"Can this be the Governor and Captain-General of San Augustin?" I whispered in the ear of my betrothed.
"'Tis not at the court of our Charles only that kissing, or promotion, goes by favour!" was his answer, in a quick aside. Then he met the advancing dignitary and responded with grave punctilio to the suave welcome that was accorded us.
Melinza's part was that of master of ceremonies on this occasion. He appeared to have laid aside his rancour, and his handsome olive countenance was lightened with an expression of great benignance when he presented me to the Governor as—"the honourable and distinguished señorita Doña Margarita de Tudor."
I looked up at Mr. Rivers with an involuntary smile.
"My betrothed, your Excellency," he said simply, taking me by the hand.
The blear-eyed Governor made me a compliment, with a wrinkled hand upon his heart. I understood no word of it, and he spoke no French, so Mr. Rivers relieved the situation with his usual ease.
This audience had been held in the courtyard of the castle, which is a place of great strength,—being, in effect, a square fort built of stone, covering about an acre of ground, and garrisoned by more than three hundred men.
We stood in a little group beneath a dim lamp that hung in a carved portico which appeared to be the entrance to a chapel. Captain Baulk and the rest were a little aloof from us; and all around, at the open doors of the casemates, lurked many of the swarthy soldiery.
Suddenly light footsteps sounded on the flagged pavement of the chapel in our rear, and a tall, graceful woman stepped forth and laid her hand upon my shoulder. Through the delicate folds of black, filmy lace veiling her head and shoulders gleamed a pair of luminous eyes that burned me with their gaze.
She waved aside the salutations of the two Spaniards and spoke directly to me in a rich, low voice. The sight of a woman was so welcome to me that I held out both hands in eager response; but she made no move to take them: her bright eyes scanned the faces of our party, lingering on that of my betrothed, to whom she next addressed herself, with a little careless gesture of her white hand in my direction.