She turned towards him suddenly and smiled. A smile apparently so rare to that proud little mouth and those dark, melancholy eyes; a smile that disclosed the smallest and whitest of teeth in such dazzling contrast to the shadow of her face; a smile that even after its brightness had passed still left its memory in a dimple in either nut-brown cheek, and a glistening moisture in the dark eyes—that Arthur felt the warm blood rise to his face.
"There are writing materials in the other room. Diego will find you there," said Donna Dolores, "and I will rejoin you soon. Thanks."
She held out the smallest and brownest of hands. Arthur bent over it for a single moment, and then withdrew with a quickened pulse to the outer room. As the door closed upon him, Donna Dolores folded her fan, threw herself back upon the sofa, and called, in a quick whisper—
"Manuela!"
The old woman reappeared with an anxious face and ran towards the sofa. But she was loo late; her mistress had fainted.
CHAPTER VII.
A LEAF OUT OF THE PAST.
Arthur's letter to his partners was a brief explanation of his delay, and closed with the following sentence—
"Search the records for any deed or transfer of the grant from Dr. Devarges."