‘It is surely unnecessary,’ said Estella, rather coldly.
‘Say rather,’ broke in the General in his smoothest way, ‘that you have come to take a cup of coffee with us and to tell us your news.’
Sir John took the chair which the General brought forward.
‘At all events,’ he said, still addressing Estella, ‘it is probably a matter of indifference to you, as it is merely an opinion expressed by myself which I wish to retract. When I first had the pleasure of meeting you, I took it upon myself to speak of a guest in your father’s house, fortunately in the presence of that guest himself, and I now wish to tell you that what I said does not apply to Frederick Conyngham himself, but to another whom Conyngham is screening. He has not confessed so much to me, but I have satisfied myself that he is not the man I seek. You, General, who know more of the world than the señorita, and have been in it almost as long as I have, can bear me out in the statement that the motives of men are not so easy to discern as younger folks imagine. I do not know what induced Conyngham to undertake this thing; probably he entered into it in a spirit of impetuous and reckless generosity, which would only be in keeping with his character. I only know that he has carried it out with a thoroughness and daring worthy of all praise. If such a tie were possible between an old man and a young, I should like to be able to claim Mr. Conyngham as a friend. There, señorita—thank you, I will take coffee. I made the accusation in your presence. I retract it before you. It is, as you see, a small matter.’
‘But it is of small matters that life is made up,’ put in the General in his deferential way. ‘Our friend,’ he went on after a pause, ‘is unfortunate in misrepresenting himself. We also have a little grudge against him—a little matter of a letter which has not been explained. I admit that I should like to see that letter.’
‘And where is it?’ asked Sir John.
‘Ah!’ replied Vincente, with a shrug of the shoulders and a gay little laugh, ‘who can tell? Perhaps in Toledo, my dear sir—perhaps in Toledo.’
CHAPTER XXIII
LARRALDE’S PRICE
‘It is as difficult to be entirely bad as it is to be entirely good.’
To those who say that there is no Faith, Spain is in itself a palpable answer. No country in the world can show such cathedrals as those of Granada, Cordova, Seville, Toledo, Burgos. In any other land any one of these great structures would suffice. But in Spain these huge monuments to that Faith which has held serenely through war and fashion, through thought and thoughtlessness, are to be found in all the great cities. And the queen of them all is Toledo.