“But,” said she with a little shudder indicative of incipient chill, “you are both of you dry and comfortable.”
“That is nothing,” said I. “It is evident that we shall have to go through it sooner or later; so perhaps the sooner the better.”
After a little more persuasion on our part and protestations on theirs our fair companions acceded to our suggestion, and we set out, I leading the van with the commandant’s daughter, and Courtenay following with the foster-sister.
We stepped out briskly, so as to avert, if possible, any evil consequences of the drenching already received; and as we picked our way along the partially submerged footpath, giving the trees as wide a berth as possible for fear of the lightning which still played vividly about us, my fair companion informed me that the commandant on returning from his visit to us that morning had found an urgent summons to Cartagena awaiting him, and that he had started in obedience thereto within half an hour of its receipt, mentioning, as he hastily bade her farewell, that he could not get back in less than a fortnight at the earliest. We discussed this subject and her father’s probable present whereabouts for a few minutes, and then the young lady asked me to detail to her the particulars of the mutiny on board the Hermione, which I did as fully as I possibly could, exciting thereby her keenest anger against the mutineers and her tenderest commiseration for the sufferers.
“Poor boy!” said she as I concluded my narrative, “what a dreadful experience for you to pass through!”
After that we seemed to get along capitally together; and in due time—an incredibly short time it seemed to me—we reached the castle without misadventure; and, parting with our charges at the chief entrance, Courtenay and I repaired to our own quarters to take a bath and don dry clothing preparatory to sitting down to dinner.
Courtenay, it seemed, had been as favourably impressed with his companion as I had been with mine; and for the next two or three days we could talk of little but the two charming girls who had burst in upon us so unexpectedly on the afternoon of that, for us, lucky thunder-storm, reiterating our hopes that the soaking had done them no harm, and wondering whether we should ever be favoured with another meeting, and, if so, when. And, indeed, trivial as the incident may seem, it exercised an important and beneficial influence on our lives after the eight months of hardship and misery unspeakable which we had so recently experienced; it gave us something fresh and pleasant to think about, and prevented our dwelling for ever upon the subject of our escape, which event seemed every day to assume a more thoroughly impossible aspect.
On the fourth day after the eventful one of the storm, and just when we were beginning to despair of ever seeing our fail acquaintances again, we were agreeably surprised by seeing them enter the workshop one afternoon, about half an hour after we had returned from luncheon.
They paused just within the threshold, and Dona Inez, glancing somewhat shyly at me, said:
“Will you allow us to come in and sit down for a little while? We should like to watch you at your work.”