"You will not desert Alcala? you will at least try to see him?" faltered Inez de Aguilera.
"You may trust me," was the Englishman's reply.
And Inez did trust young Lepine. It was with the confidence that a sister might have felt in a brother's protecting care that she leant on his strong arm to stay her feeble steps when she re-entered her home. Necessity and a common sorrow had to a great degree broken down the barrier of reserve between Alcala's sister and his English friend. Inez found the patio empty; Teresa was in attendance on her mistress in a different part of the mansion.
Inez and Lepine seated themselves near the fountain, and there, in trembling tones, Inez gave a full account to her companion of much that had passed on that, to her, most eventful day. The maiden told of the discovery of the treasure, and pointed, as she did so, to the spot whence it had been dug out by herself and Chico. Inez did not dwell long on her own imprisonment; she did not care to fix the attention of her indignant hearer on what only concerned herself. Of Alcala's subsequent arrest his sister could only speak through tears. Inez lightly glanced at her own unsuccessful efforts to obtain the help of friends for Alcala, and would hardly have mentioned them at all, had she not, from maidenly instinct, wished to account for her own solitary wanderings so far from her home.
"And now that you know all, señor," said Inez, raising for a moment her dark tearful eyes to the face of Lepine, "can you—will you aid us?"
"If I do not, most assuredly it will not be will but power that is wanting," replied Lucius, who had been deeply interested both by the narrative and by the grief of the artless narrator.
"Will you not visit Alcala in his prison? will you not stir up your English friends to save him?"
Lucius was silent for a few seconds, revolving the difficulties before him, ere he returned an answer. The young man knew how utterly useless it would be to attempt to enlist the aid of Mr. Passmore, even were that aid of any value. It was more than doubtful whether any interference on the part of Englishmen would avail even to mitigate punishment inflicted on one who was not a British subject. Spanish jealousy might even resent a foreigner's intervention. Lucius could hardly bear to quench the hope which his presence had kindled, but it would have been more cruel to raise expectations which must end in keen disappointment. England might reprobate the way in which the Spanish government dealt with the Spanish people; she might view with indignation the cruelty of the oppressor; but when his arm was raised to strike an innocent victim, she had no right to cry, "Hold! hold!" Lucius felt that he could do nothing to free Alcala from his prison; it was doubtful whether he would even be permitted to see him there.
"I do not think that any stranger would be suffered to visit your brother to-day, señorita," said Lucius at last; "the evening is now coming on, and it is too late for me to obtain an order of admission. I shall certainly do my utmost to procure one ere long. But it seems to me," Lucius continued, "that it is of the utmost importance to your brother that he should be furnished with the means of securing good legal advice, and that fair play which, I fear, is not always shown to those whose purses are empty."
There was something almost reproachful in the sad tone of Inez as she replied, "Think you, señor, that gold would be spared—if we had it to give?"