found, he won't be far from Silvestre's office--if not
this night, by early daybreak to-morrow morning."

It is not the custom of either Spaniards, or Spanish-Americans, to tarry
long over the dinner-table. The cloth once removed, and the ladies
gone, a glass or two of Port, Xeres, or Pedro Ximenes, and the gentlemen
also retire; not for business, but recreation out of doors, so pleasant
in southern climes.

Dona Carmen and her niece have ascended to the _azotea_, to enjoy the
sweet twilight of a Californian summer; whither they are soon followed
by Crozier and Cadwallader.

The master of the house has for a time parted with them--under the
excuse of having affairs to attend to. It is to complete the packing of
his gold-dust. But before leaving the _sala de comer_, and while
emptying their last glass together, he has been approached by his
sailor-guests on that subject uppermost in their thoughts, and dearest
to their hearts. Asked if he be agreeable to become the father-in-law
of one, and the--Cadwallader had difficulty in finding a word for
it--_grandfather-in-law_ of the other, to both interrogatories he has
given the same answer--"Yes."

No wonder that, with bright faces and bounding step, the young officers
rush out, and up to the _azotea_, there to rejoin the senoritas.

Their tale told to the latter--who have been awaiting them in anxious
expectation--will save both a world of confusion and blushes. No need
now for _them_ to talk to "papa." His consent has been obtained--they
are aware he will keep his word.

Again the four, now formally betrothed, separate into twos, taking
opposite sides of the aerial garden.

They converse about the far future--that awaiting them at Cadiz. But
the ladies cannot overlook, or forget, some perils more proximate. The
retrospect of the day throws a shadow over the morrow. That encounter
with De Lara and Calderon cannot end without further action. Not
likely; and both aunt and niece recall it, questioning their now
affianced lovers--adjuring them to refrain from fighting.

These reply, making light of the matter, declaring confidence in their
own strength and skill, whatever be the upshot--at length, so assuring
their sweethearts, that both believe them invincible, invulnerable.
What woman who does not believe the same of him who holds her heart?

Time passes; the last moments speed silently, sweetly, in the old, old
ecstasy of all-absorbing, time-killing love.