The truth of this reference to her incongruous dress became more apparent when the dawn broke and lightened. I had not given it a thought while we were at Calvarro's, nor while the darkness made the matter of costume a thing of no importance; but in the daylight it was altogether different. Still, as riding habits didn't grow on Spanish hills, there was nothing to do but to make the best of it, and get a change of dress at the first available opportunity. After all, there was that well-known excuse to fall back upon—the eccentricity of the English traveller.
I left Sarita almost entirely to her own thoughts, and for some hours we scarcely spoke to each other, until, as I had dismounted and was leading my horse up a hill by her side, she looked down and said with a smile:
"You are very good to me, Ferdinand, and very thoughtful for me. I cannot bear to speak much yet."
"That's all right. We shall have many years of chatter to make up for a few hours' silence," I answered, cheeringly. "I can guess pretty well how it is with you. Don't worry. Let's get out of this mess and we'll have all the more to talk about. What a young brick that Juan is. I don't know what we should have done without him. He'll pull us through yet," and it really began to look as though he would, for we were within a mile or two of Calatayud.
"And do I owe nothing to you?"
"We won't shout till we are out of the wood. But here we are at the top of the hill, and forward's the word again;" and soon after that we came in sight of Calatayud nestling down in the valley a good way below us, the smoke from a few early fires curling up lazily in the breezeless air.
"Thank God, there's the railway," I said, pointing to where a sinuous line of white steam marked the course of a train just leaving the station on its way to Madrid. Then I called Juan back. "I am not going to your grandfather's if I can help it, Juan. I have reason to know it will be dangerous. Is there a Royalist house in the place?"
"Yes, senor, there is Angostino's. But if there are any soldiers in the town they are sure to be there."
"All the more reason for them not to think I should go there, too. Now remember, the senorita and I are English people, brother and sister. I am Lord Glisfoyle"—and I made him repeat the name several times, and warned him to tell anyone who might question him that that was my name, and that I was an eccentric English nobleman. "You won't ride with us up to Angostino's, but as soon as we are close enough to the house to find our way, you'll take the horses—they might be recognised—and we shall walk there. And now I'm going to trust you. Take this letter and keep it. If you hear that I have been arrested, go as quickly as you can to Madrid and give it yourself to Mr. Mayhew, and tell him that I am arrested. But if I am not, then I shall want you to be ready to go on a journey with me later in the day or in the evening; I'll find means to let you know the time." He promised me, and when we came near enough to our destination Sarita and I dismounted, and he rode away with the horses.
"Now, Mercy—that's your name now, remember—for a bold face on things and no language but English; no character but that of eccentric English folk; and a prayer from the bottom of our hearts that my friend Rubio is not within a dozen miles of Angostino's. In that case we'll soon be at breakfast, and you'll soon be in bed—and the best place for you."