ood, and--this with a glistening of little savage
teeth, small and white as mother-of-pearl--that Luis Fernandez should be
humbled.

"Let me see--let me see," she murmured, thoughtfully. "Wait, I will come
with you." She took a glance at the young cavalier, armed _cap-a-pie_,
and thought doubtless of the horse chafing and shaking its accoutrements
in the shade of the porter's lodge. "No, I will not come with you. I
will follow immediately, and do you, sir, return as swiftly as possible
to the mill-house of Sarria."

And without the slightest attempt at coquetry Concha showed Rollo to the
door, and that arrogant youth, slightly bewildered and uncertain of the
march of events, found himself presently riding away from the white gate
of the monastery with Etienne's ring upon his finger, and a belief
crystallising in his heart that of all the maligned and misrepresented
beings on the earth, the most maligned and the most innocent was little
Concha Cabezos.

And instinctively his fingers itched to clasp his sword-hilt, and prove
this thesis upon Pedro Morales or any venta rascal who might in future
disparage her good name.

Indeed, it was only by checking of his horse in time that he kept
himself in the right line for the mill-house. His instinct was to ride
to the venta straightway and have it out with all the blind mouths of
the village in parliament assembled.

But luckily Rollo remembered the giant Ramon Garcia, reckless and simple
of heart, Dolores his wife and her instant needs, and the imprisoned
Fernandez family in the strong-room of the mill-house. It was clear even
to his warped judgment that these constituted a first charge upon his
endeavours, and that the good name of Mistress Concha, despite the
dimples on her chin, must be considered so far a side issue.

The mill-house remained as he had left it when he rode away. The
sunshine fell broad and strong on its whitewashed walls and green
shutters, most of them closed hermetically along the front as was the
custom of Sarria, till the power of the sun was on the wane. A workman
or two busy down among the vents, and feeding the mouths of the grinding
stones, looked up curiously at this unwonted visitor. But these had been
too frequent of late, and their master's behaviour too strange for them
to suspect anything amiss.

It was now the hottest time of the forenoon, and the heat made Rollo
long for some of Don Luis's red wine, which he would drain in the
Catalo