“She exerted herself to disgrace herself, and to disgrace her family. The money is not among the partidas, but all in the bags of her Cousin Alcides, whom she has married without dispensation, and with her father’s sanction forged. Can you make the best of that, Senhor?”
Hilary certainly could not make anything very good out of this. And cheerful though his nature was, and tolerably magnanimous, he could not be expected to enjoy the treatment he had met with. To be knocked down and robbed was bad enough; to be disgraced was a great deal worse; but to be cut out by a rival, betrayed into his power, and made to pay for his wedding with trust-money belonging to poor soldiers,—all this was enough to embitter even the sweet and kind nature of young Lorraine. Therefore his face was unlike itself, as he turned it away from the young Spanish lady, being much taken up with his own troubles, and not yet ready to make light of them.
“Will you not speak to me, Senhor? I am not in any way guilty of this. I would have surrendered the whole of my life——”
“I pray you to pardon me,” Hilary answered. “I am not accustomed to this sort of thing. Where are they now? Can I follow them?”
“Even a Spaniard could not find them. My brothers would not attempt it. Alcides knows every in and out. He has hidden his prize in the mountains of the north.”
“If that is so, I can only hasten to say farewell to the Spanish land.”
“To go away, and to never come back! Is it possible that you could do that?”
“It may be a bitter thing; but I must try. I am now on my way to Malaga. Being discharged from the British army, I have only to find my own way home.”
“It cannot be; it never can be! Our officers lose a mule’s-load of money, or spend it at cards; and we keep them still. Senhor Captain, you must have made some mistake. They never could discharge you!”