ow which were yet to come.

CHAPTER VII.

At first all seemed to go well enough. The Governor's lady was fairly
gracious to me; old Senor de Colis was profuse in his leering smiles and
wordy compliments, none of which I could understand; I saw Mr. Rivers
and Melinza from time to time, and they seemed upon good terms with each
other: but I did not believe this state of affairs could last,--and I
was right in my fears.

One night ('twas the twenty-second of June, and the weather was sultry
and oppressive; the sea held its breath, and the round moon burned hot
in the hazy sky) the evening meal was served in the little courtyard of
the Governor's house, and both Mr. Rivers and Melinza were our guests.

This was not the first occasion on which we had all broken bread at the
same board; but there was now an air of mockery in the civilities of
Melinza,--he passed the salt to my betrothed with a glance of veiled
hostility, and pledged him in a glass of wine with a smile that ill
concealed the angry curl of his sullen red lip.

'Twas a strange meal; the memory of it is like a picture stamped upon my
brain.

From the tall brass candlesticks upon the table, the unflickering tapers
shone down upon gleaming damask and glistening silver, and kindled
sparks amid the diamonds that caught up the folds of lace on the dark
head of Dona Orosia, and that gemmed the white fingers clasping her
slow-moving fan. Hers was a beauty that boldly challenged men's
admiration and exacted tribute of their eyes. The white-haired Governor
paid it in full measure, with a fixed and watery gaze from beneath his
half-closed lids, and a senile smile lurking under his waxed moustache.
But whenever I glanced upward I met the eyes of Mr. Rivers and Don Pedro
turned upon me; and I felt a strange thrill made up, in part, of triumph
that my dear love was not to be won from his allegiance, and in part of
terror because there was that in the Spaniard's gaze that betokened a
nature ruled wholly by its hot passions and a will to win what it craved
by fair means or by foul.

I could eat little for the heat and the pungent flavour of strange
sauces, so I dallied with my plate only as an excuse for lowered
eyes; and, although I listened all the while with strained attention,
the talk ran by too swiftly for me to grasp any of its meaning.

[Illustration: "TO THE BRIGHTEST EYES AND THE LIPS MOST WORTHY OF
KISSES!"--_Page 55._]

But Dona Orosia was neither