t miserable ship."

I did remember it very well.

He went to the inner door, looked in, and then came back to me.

"Seraphina needs a guide--a controller--someone very strong and gentle,
and kind and brave. My uncle will never ask her to marry against her
wish; he is too old and has too little will. And for any man who would
marry her--except one--there would be great dangers, for her and for
him. It would need a cool man, and a brave man, and a good one, too, to
hazard, perhaps even life, for her sake. She will be very rich. All
our lands, all our towns, all our gold." There was a suggestion of
fabulousness in his dreamy voice. "They shall never be mine," he added.
"_Vaya_."

He looked at me with his piercing eyes set to an expression that
might have been gentle mockery. At any rate, it also contained intense
scrutiny, and, perhaps, a little of appeal. I sighed myself.

"There is a man called O'Brien in there," he said. "He does us the
honour to pretend to my cousin's hand."

I felt singularly angry. "Well, he's not a Spaniard," I said.

Carlos answered mockingly, "Oh, for Spaniard, no. He is a descendant of
the Irish kings."

"He's an adventurer," I said. "You ought to be on your guard. You don't
know these bog-trotting fortune-hunters. They're the laughter of Europe,
kings and all."

Carlos smiled again. "He's a very dangerous man for all that," he said.
"I should not advise any one to come to Rio Medio, my uncle's town,
without making a friend of the Senor O'Brien."

He went once more to the inner door, and, after a moment's whispering
with someone within, returned to me.

"My uncle still sleeps," he said. "I must keep you a little longer. Ah,
yes, the Senor O'Brien. He shall marry my cousin, I think, when I am
dead."

"You don't know these fellows," I said.

"Oh, I know them very well," Carlos smiled, "there are many of them at
Havana. They came there after what they call the '98, when there was
great rebellion in Ireland, and many good Catholics were killed and
ruined."

"Then he's a rebel, and ought to be hung," I said.

Carlos laughed as of old. "It may be, but, my good Juan, we Christians
do not see eye to eye with you. This man rebelled against your
government, but, also, he suffered for the true faith. He is a good
Catholic; he has suffered for it; and in the Ever Faithful Island, that
is a passport. He has climbed very high; he is a judge of the Marine
Court at Havana. That is why he is h