"Look! there goes the man who delivered the Regent and the young Queen!

They say that both Jose Maria, whom every one thought dead, and El Sarria the outlaw were of his band. More than that, it is certain that one very near to the Queen-Regent's person was content to take service with him as a common soldier. How great and famous then must he be! And, above all, how certain of preferment! It were indeed well to cultivate his acquaintance. For what shall be done to the man whom two Queens and a Consort unite in delighting to honour? His threadbare coat? A mere eccentricity of genius, my love. His huge battered sword a-dangle at his side? It is said that he has slain over twenty men with that same blade!

Decidedly not a man to be despised; speaks all languages, even the crabbed Gitano-Castilian like a native of Valladolid. He will marry a Spanish wife and become one of _nosotros_, as did O'Donnel, Duke of Tetuan, Sarsfield, Blake, and a score of others--all once poor and neglected, now thrice-hatted and set among the finest clay of the court potter."

Thus in the ante-chambers of Queens spake the wily, the wise, the far-seeing. And from such Rollo had many offers of service. But with a delicate politeness at which none could take offence he declined all these, making (as his father had advised him) his words at once "firm and mannerly."

Thank you, but he was content to wait. He had been sent for by the Queen-Regent. Till then--but at that moment, after a preliminary peep from behind a curtain, the Princess herself ran skipping across the hall, and, catching Rollo by the hand, bewildered him with a chatter of joyous questionings.

Where was Concha? Would her brother never come back? Why had he not been at Aranjuez? She sent him a kiss. (The which Rollo promised without fail to deliver, and what is more, meant to keep his word.)

Yes (he answered with amus.e.m.e.nt), perhaps one day the Princess would see Concha's brother again. It was certainly very dull in Madrid. Royal palaces were as little to his liking as to that of the Princess.

Then the little lady had her turn. Did he remember when he had hidden her underneath the great bra.s.s pot among the hay? Did he know that once a straw had tickled her beneath the chin so funnily that she came near to bursting out laughing? Rollo did not know, but the very thought turned him cold even among that throng of courtiers, all casting sidelong glances and trying to get near enough to listen politely to the conversation without appearing to do so. He seemed to be once more threading his way through the scattered groups of gipsies, the dark brows of Egypt bending suspiciously upon him and the royal storehouses flaring up like torches.

"Ah, there he comes--just like him!" cried the little girl, stamping her foot after the pattern of her mother; "now you and I will have no more good talk. But I shall wait for you at the gate when you come out.

There--now bend down. I want to give you another kiss for that pretty boy, the brother of that Concha of yours!"

As she ran off Rollo found a friendly hand on his arm, and lo! there at his elbow was Don Fernando Munoz, Duke of Rianzares, come in person to convey him into the presence. His manner was characterised by the utmost cordiality, together with a certain humanity altogether new, which made Rollo think that a few more _barrancos_ to defend would do this favoured grandeeship a great deal of good.

Rollo had expected to be ushered into the presence of her Majesty in person, but instead, a plain English-looking man stood alone in a little room, the window of which commanded a vast and desolate prospect. There was a tall chair with a golden crown over it at the top of a table covered with red cloth, while several others, all uncushioned and severely plain, were ranged regularly about it.

The English-looking man came forward bluffly, and put out his hand to Rollo. He looked more like a healthy fox-hunting squire, just intelligent enough to sit in Parliament and make speeches against reform and the corn laws, than the political confidant of a Queen of Spain.

Then in a moment it flashed through Rollo's mind that this hearty Anglo-Iberian could be none other than Mendizabal himself, the Prime Minister of Spain, the scourge of monks and monasteries, the promised regenerator of the finances of Spain. Another thought crossed his mind also. He had actually not so very long ago practically accepted a commission to kill this man if he should chance to cross his path.

Yet the remembrance did not dim the brightness of the young man's smile as he took the other's hand.

"Ten to one he will talk to me about the weather," said Rollo to himself, "to me who ought at this moment to be inserting a twelve-inch Manchegan knife between his ribs."

And it fell out even as he had antic.i.p.ated.

"You have been favoured with fine weather for your many adventures,"

said the Prime Minister of the Queen-Regent; "it is almost like an English June, clear, but with a touch of cold in the mornings and after sunset."

Rollo modestly supplied the appropriate conversational counter.

"Your name strikes me as in some way familiar," said Mendizabal; "was not your father Alistair Blair of Blair Castle, a client of mine when I was a banker in London and operating on the Stock Exchange?"

"He was, sir," quoth candid Rollo, "not greatly to his advantage--or mine!"

The Premier coloured a little but did not alter his friendly tone.

"Well, perhaps not," he said; "I myself lost every penny I possessed in the world at the same time. Our Spanish stocks were not so favourable an investment as they have become since we obtained recognition and a guarantee from England. But when I have been turned out of my present occupation, I wish you would permit me to look into your affairs. Your father's old vouchers should be worth something now. You have not, I hope, had to sell the old place of your ancestors?"

"No," said Rollo, carelessly; "an ancient retainer of the family lives in the castle with his wife. There is a dovecote in the yard, so they eat the pigeons which eat the farmers' crops, who in turn forget to pay their rents. Thus the ball rolls. And indeed the years have been so bad of late that I have not asked them!"

"You prefer a life of adventure abroad?" asked the Premier, who had not ceased to look at Rollo with the most earnest attention.

Rollo shrugged his shoulders slightly at the question.

"I do not know," he said simply, "I have not tried. The most ordinary affairs turn out adventurous with me. But then, I would rather undergo any conceivable hardship than live on in one place like a beetle pinned to a card, able only to waggle my feet, till a merciful death put a limit to my sufferings."

Further conversation was cut short by the entrance of the Queen-Regent.

Her husband conducted her to the door or rather _portiere_ curtain of the council-room, and immediately withdrew--a slight waving of the tapestry, however, affording some reasons for suspecting that his Excellency the Duke of Rianzares had not removed himself the entire distance required by etiquette from the councils of his Sovereign.

Maria Cristina extended first to Mendizabal and then to Rollo a plump hand to kiss.

"I have to thank you," she said to the latter, not ungraciously, "for the many and great services you have rendered to me, my daughter--and--to other friends also. The result has certainly been most fortunate, though the manner of service at times left something to be desired!"

Then as Rollo kept his head modestly lowered, the Queen-Regent relented a little, thinking him covered with confusion at her severity, which indeed was far from being his real state of mind.

"But after all you are a brave man, of excellent parts, and personable to a degree----"

"Which in this age and country goes for no little!" said Mendizabal, bowing to the Queen as if he intended a compliment. "You have heard how our soldiers chant as they go into battle:

"'_Old Carlos is a crusty churl, But Isabel's a sweet young girl!_'"

The Queen bowed, with however a little frown upon her face. She was never quite sure whether her Prime Minister was laughing at her or not.

Then she returned to the subject of Rollo.

"You have some employment of a sort suited to the taste of this adventurous young man?" she went on. "I understand and sympathise with his desire not to return to the wars in the North."

"There is the little matter of the suppression of the monasteries,"

returned Mendizabal, "to take effect (as your Majesty doubtless remembers) on the twentieth of the month. It is already the sixth. There may be some slight trouble where the orders are strong. I propose that we send this distinguished young Scottish soldier (whose n.o.ble father I had the honour of knowing somewhat intimately) to Valencia or the Baleares with vice-regal powers. We have great need of such men at such a time."

Rollo gasped and bowed his head. The crimson rose to his cheek. To be a Governor with almost regal powers and soldiers at his beck, to hold a turbulent province quiet under his hand! How he wished there were no such thing as "honour" anywhere, keeping him by mere iteration and irritancy to the resolution his conscience had extorted from him.

Mendizabal thought the young man only doubtful of his capacity, and patted him on the shoulder with fatherly tolerance and encouragement.

"You will do very well," he said kindly, "we will give you a free hand, full powers, and as many soldiers as you want. Besides, the Carlists have been some while in these regions, and we have not been able to get our own men. Now you can look them up!"

Then Rollo, suddenly finding words, spoke his mind fully and freely.

"I cannot go," he said; "at least, not till I have fulfilled a sacred duty which lies heavily upon me. I took up a charge. I have not fulfilled it. I cannot serve the Queen-Regent till I have laid down that which I undertook, and to the person who charged me with the mission!"

The Queen stared at the bold young man, but the Prime Minister understood better.

"It is his point of honour," he explained to Maria Cristina; "those of his nation cannot help it. It is in the blood and in the gloomy creed which they profess--a sour and inconvenient religion in which there is no confession."

"No confession!" cried the Queen, casting up her hands in horror, "no absolution! How then can they go on living from day to day?"

"Much like other people," said the Premier, smiling; "they repent, and then--repent of their repentances!"

"And is this young man not a Christian?" cried the Queen. "Is he also of this dark and gloomy superst.i.tion--what was it that you called the heresy?"

"I am indeed a Presbyterian," said Rollo, smiling; "at least, my father was, and I also when any one contradicts me. For the rest I am, I fear, but an indifferent Christian!"

"Ah," murmured the Queen with a reflective sigh, "then even heretics may have their uses. In that case it will be easier for you to oppress--I mean to argue with and convince the holy friars of the righteous intentions of the government with regard to them!"