We left the immense terminus, which would not have disgraced the finest city in Europe, and turned up a great boulevard leading to the higher part of the city where amid trees we could see many fine white houses.
"That is our house!" cried Dolores, as we left the houses behind and came out into the country. "Look, aunt! look, William!"
I did look and saw on the crest of the hill we were approaching, far away to the left, a long range of white buildings, relieved with towers, which looked like a small castle.
It filled me with apprehension, for it was a sign of the great wealth of her father—the wealth which I feared would be a bar to our union.
I think she was surprised at the glum look on my face for the rest of the little journey.
"Are you sorry to go and see my father?" she asked plaintively, with a sweet look in her blue eyes. "I am sure he will be very glad to see you and to thank you for saving me. He is a very kind man is my father," she added solemnly, "very kind to me, and very kind to his reptiles."
Before them all—Mrs. Darbyshire was now quite resigned—I took her hand and pressed it.
"It is a very easy thing to be kind to you, Dolores," I said. "I should find the difficulty in being kind to the reptiles."
"But you will humour my father, won't you?" she asked, and then dropped her voice, "for both our sakes?"
The amount of interest dear old Sir Rupert Frampton took in distant scenery during this drive, and the many objects of interest he pointed out to Mrs. Darbyshire to divert her attention from us, made me his willing slave for life. For, indeed, I was agitated at the prospect of the interview which was to come in a few minutes with old Don Juan d'Alta, not only for our sake, but for the sake of the dear old lady at Bath, who I doubted not was now dead, and the packet she had confided to my care.