“Alas, Senhor! and heavy blows. Our proverb is, ‘Love leads to blows;’ and this was our return to you. But she is of our family no more.”
“I am at a loss. It is my stupidity. I do not know at all what is meant.
“In sincerity, the cavalier has no suspicion who smote down and robbed him?”
“In sincerity, the cavalier knows not: although he would be very glad to know.”
“Is it possible? Oh the dark treachery! It was my cousin who struck you down; my sister who betrayed you.”
“Ah, well!” said Lorraine, in a moment, seeing how she trembled for his words, and how terribly she felt the shame; “if it be so, I am still in her debt. She saved my life once, and she spared it again. Now, as you see, I am none the worse. The only loser is the British Government, which can well afford to pay.”
“It is not so. The loss is ours, of honour, faith, and gratitude.”
“I pray you not to take it so. Everybody knows that the fault was mine. And whatever has happened only served me right.”
“It served you right for trusting us! It is too true. It is a bitter saying. My father mourns, and I mourn. She never more will be his daughter, and never more my sister.”
“I pray you,” said Hilary, taking her hand, as she turned away to control herself—“I pray you, Donna Camilla, to look at this little matter sensibly. I now understand the whole of it. Your sister is of very warm and strong patriotic sentiments. She felt that this money would do more good, as the property of the partidas, than as the pay of the British troops. And so she exerted herself to get it. All good Spaniards would have thought the same.”