kly.

"Go! Leave me!" she cried. "Do you linger? Can I never be rid of you?
Out of my sight! I would have a moment's respite from your great eyes
and your white face. Go!"

And I obeyed her.

CHAPTER XIV.

March, the 9th day.

Dona Orosia sent for me at noon to-day. There was news to tell, and she
chose to be the one to tell it.

I found her in her favourite seat,--a great soft couch, covered with
rich Moorish stuffs, and placed under the shadow of the balcony that
overlooks the sunny garden. Up each of the light pillars from which
spring the graceful arches that support this balcony climbs a mass of
blooming vines that weave their delicate tendrils round the railing
above and then trail downward again in festoons of swaying colour.
Behind, in the luminous shadow, she lay coiled and half asleep; with a
large fan of bronze turkey-feathers in one lazy hand, the other teasing
the tawny hound which was stretched out at her feet.

She opened her great eyes as I came near.

"Ah! the little blue-eyed Margarita, the little saint who frowns when
men worship at her shrine," she said slowly. "There is news for you. The
_Virgen de la Mar_ arrived last night from Habana, bringing the
commands of the Council of Spain that the English prisoners here
detained be liberated forthwith. For it seems that there has been
presented to the Council, through our ambassador to the English Court, a
memorial, which clearly proves that these persons have given no
provocation to any subject of his Catholic Majesty, Charles the Second
of Spain, and are therefore unlawfully imprisoned. How like you that?"
The waving fan was suddenly stilled, and the brilliant eyes half veiled.

"Is this true?" I asked, for my heart misgave me.

She laughed. "It is true that the _Virgen de la Mar_ has brought those
orders to the Governor of San Augustin--and that my husband has received
them."

"Will he obey them, senora?"

"Will who obey them?" she asked; and there was a gleam of white teeth
under the red, curling lip. "My husband, or the Governor of San
Augustin?"

"Are they not the same?"

"If you think so, little fool," she cried, half rising from her couch;
"if you think so still, you would better go back to your chamber and
pray yourself and your lover out of prison!"

I made no answer; I waited, without much hope, for what she would say
next. My heart was very full, but I would not pleasure her by weeping.

"Child," she continued, si