“Will your lordship permit?” said de Vilela. “Don Juan de Ricaldo, my friend and comrade!”
And the Earl extended his hand to Don Juan.
“You are welcome, señor,” said Desmond, but without much warmth, for was he not, as it were, between the devil and the deep sea, with England on the one side and Spain on the other?
Then he conversed with the two Spaniards in a low tone of voice, so that I could hear but imperfectly what was said, but it was impossible not to see that he was in great perplexity. The two messengers of the President looked darkly on, their countenances knit into scowls, while Desmond shot a curious glance at them now and again.
After a few minutes spent in this fashion, Don Juan, excusing himself on the score of being weary in the extreme from his journey, retired from the hall along with de Vilela. When they had withdrawn there was a constraint upon us all, no one caring to speak his thoughts, for what could we say that would not have been noted by those two sharp-eared gentlemen from Limerick?
For myself I was fair bewildered; but the one thing that bulked out most largely in my mind was the fact that now there must be an end of our uncertainty, as the Spaniards had come into the country, as I supposed, and the time for deeds, not words, was upon us.
Nor was our sitting in the hall prolonged that evening, for each one who was in authority preferred to say nothing, and while the others talked together in little knots, it was in whispers, and all were glad when the Earl gave the signal for retiring.
The same night I was awoke from a sound sleep by de Vilela, who bade me dress and go with him. We went into a room high up in the tower, and there were my mistress, Desmond, and de Ricaldo waiting for us.
“Ruari,” said Grace O’Malley, her face bright with excitement, “this gentleman is Don Juan de Ricaldo”—we saluted each other—”and he is the bearer of news of the highest importance, which concerns us most nearly.”
Don Juan bowed again.