But the Senor de Belinchon only gave monosyllabic answers to all these questions.

"Do you know, Gonzalo," he said, stopping suddenly, "that I might have killed myself just now?"

"How?"

He then gave a full account of the incident of the mole, and when the story was ended, he again relapsed into a state of profound melancholy.

"I suppose the family is in bed," said Gonzalo, after he had sufficiently sympathized (at least in his own opinion) with the late peril of the merchant.

"No, they are at the theatre--one never knows what may happen, eh?"

"So you've got a theatrical company here, eh?"

"Yes, for some days past. Do you know I thought I should have been killed, Gonzalo?"

"Tush! You might, perhaps, have broken a leg, or at the worst, a rib or two."

"Well, that would have been bad enough!" exclaimed the Senor de Belinchon, with a sigh.

By this time they had proceeded some distance into the town, and arriving at a certain street, Don Rosendo took leave of the uncle and nephew. He held out his hand in a sad way, saying:

"I must go and fetch my family from the theatre. Until to-morrow, and a good night's rest to you, Gonzalo."

"Until to-morrow--kind regards to all."

Then the Senor de las Cuevas and his nephew went on together to their house; and the traveler had to undergo a torrent of questions not relative to his visit to England, but concerning particulars of the voyage home.

"What wind did you have? Pretty bl.u.s.terous, eh? I suppose it hardly sank once? The ship didn't pitch much, eh? She was well loaded. You never sailed with all that canvas, eh? You had to reef on leaving Liverpool, eh? I know the course well."

Gonzalo replied to the questions in an absent-minded manner, for he really hardly took them in, as he was walking along in a state of abstraction, with his head down.

"What is the matter, Gonzalito? You seem low-spirited."

"I? Bah! no, senor."

"I know you are."

They proceeded some distance in silence, and Don Melchor, striking his forehead, exclaimed:

"I know what it is!"

"What?"

"You are longing for the sea again. I have gone through just the same. I used to leap ash.o.r.e after any voyage, and then I was seized with a fit of depression and a strong desire to return to the ship! This lasted two or three days, until I got accustomed to it. The fact is, I longed to get into port, but once there, I wished to be on board again. I don't know what there is so attractive in the sea, eh? That air so pure! The motion! The freedom! I know you are longing to return to the ship, eh?"

he concluded, with a mischievous smile, to show his perspicacity.

"Bother it all! what I am longing for, uncle, is to go and see my sweetheart."

Don Melchor was dumfounded.

"Is that true?"

"Of course it is."

The Senor de las Cuevas reflected a minute, and then said:

"All right; perhaps you would like to go and meet her at the theatre? In the meanwhile I will go and see if Domingo has improved."

"How can he improve? He is a first-rate fellow," returned the youth, smiling.

The uncle, oblivious of the irony, looked at him with scorn.

"Get along! I see you return as silly as you went. I will wait supper for you."

"Don't wait for me, uncle," replied Gonzalo, already some distance off.

"Perhaps I shall not want supper."

Then, without running, but with extraordinary swiftness, thanks to his unusually long legs, he strode through the streets, lighted here and there by oil lamps, in the direction of the theatre. Any one meeting him just then would have taken him for one of the many Englishmen who occasionally come to Sarrio on shipping business, to reconnoitre mining districts, or to start some industry. His colossal height and his stout, robust appearance are not characteristic features of the Spanish race, although one comes across them in the north; then that long coat, those double-soled boots, and strange-shaped hat denoted the foreigner. A glance at the face completed the illusion, for it was fair; and the long red beard, and blue, or, more properly called, azure eyes are almost always seen in the northern races.

CHAPTER IV

THE BETROTHAL

The family of Las Cuevas, to which Gonzalo belonged, had from time immemorial been huge in stature, and seafaring by profession. His father had been a sailor, his grandfather a sailor, his uncles sailors, and the sons of these uncles also sailors. Gonzalo when not eight years of age was left orphaned of both father and mother, and possessed of a considerable fortune, managed by his uncle and guardian, Don Melchor, in whose care he had been left by his father at his death. The old sailor greatly wished his ward to continue the uninterrupted course of the Cuevas with regard to a profession. To awaken in him a love of the sea, or to make him take a fancy to it, he bought him a beautiful sailing boat, in which they both took trips, or went on fishing expeditions. But the good man's plans could not prevail against his nephew's predisposition for the land. He cared for nothing to do with the sea, but the fish out of it, and that only when dressed and steaming on the table. However, he managed sometimes to enjoy himself with a kettle, cooking an impromptu meal in some out-of-the-way spot on the coast, seated on a rock whence bubbled beautiful fresh drinking water. At fourteen Gonzalo had grown into a fine young fellow in the second cla.s.s of the private college of Sarrio, which sent him up to the Capital every year for the examination, where he generally won the qualification "good," and once and again, but very rarely, that of "highly commended."

He was much liked by his schoolfellows for his open, frank disposition, while he was respected for his ability to deal powerful blows. The gentlefolk of the town made much of him on account of his position and the family to which he belonged, and the sailors and other people of the place loved him for his frank, equable nature.

After graduating as bachelor of arts, he remained three years in Sarrio without doing anything. He got up late, and spent the greater part of the day at the casino playing billiards, in which game he became an expert. In spite of being the spoiled child of the place, he visited at few houses, preferring the stupid, demoralizing life of the cafe, to which he had become accustomed. Nevertheless, as he was not wanting in intelligence, and being of a naturally active turn of mind, he sometimes turned his attention to the study of some branch of science. He liked mineralogy, and many afternoons he left the casino and the billiards to repair to the suburbs of the town, in search of minerals and fossils, until he had quite a valuable collection. Then he took up the microscope for a time, and after sending for a costly one from Germany he devoted himself to the examination of diatomaceae, and he arranged them admirably well upon the little crystals, which he cut himself. Finally, a book upon brewing having fallen into his hands, he devoted himself enthusiastically to its study. He ordered several works on the subject from England, and began to think that this unpractised industry might be started with advantage in Sarrio. He seriously thought of opening a brewery, but, confiding the project to his uncle, the old man was furious, and gave vent to a series of inarticulate grunts, all beyond the normal diapason, which ended with the exclamation:

"What! a Cuevas start a brewery! The son of a captain, the nephew of a rear-admiral! Impossible! You are off your head, Gonzalo. It is well said that idleness is the mother of every vice. If you had pa.s.sed through the naval college, as I advised you, you would have been first lieutenant by now, and would not be running about with such mad ideas."

Gonzalo was silent, but he did not cease reading his treatises on the industry. He soon saw that, without visiting the chief breweries, and without studying the subject seriously, he could never attain any real knowledge of it, and so he determined to go to England and learn the business of a civil engineer. When he ventured to broach the subject to his uncle, the sailor did not object to the word engineer, but the attributive adjunct of civil aroused the same storm of invectives as the brewery had called forth.

"Civil, civil! nowadays everything shady is called civil. Be a straightforward engineer of roads, and bridges or mines."

At this time he knew, or, to speak more correctly, for everybody knows each other in Sarrio, he became acquainted with, the Senorita de Belinchon. One day his uncle sent him to the rich merchant's house to ask him if he could give him a bill of exchange on Manila. Don Rosendo was not in his office, which was on the ground floor of the house, but as the business was urgent, Gonzalo decided to go upstairs. The maid who opened the door was very alert.

"Come this way, Don Gonzalo; the Senorita Cecilia will tell you where the master is."

He was taken into an untidy room, with heaps of clothes upon the floor and on the table, at which the eldest daughter of the Belinchons was ironing a shirt, in a costume not befitting her station, for it was a scanty, narrow skirt, an ap.r.o.n tied round her waist like a workwoman, and her feet in shabby slippers. She did not blush at the young man finding her in such an attire and engaged in such a menial occupation, nor did she exclaim, as many girls would have done in her place: "Goodness, what a state you find me in!" putting her hands to her hair and her throat.

Nothing of the sort; she suspended her task for a minute, smiled sweetly, and waited to hear what the youth had to say.

"Good-evening," he said with a blush.