g's confidence, and not a little displeased that his dwelling
should have been fixed on for the young officer's quarters. "It would
not have been Isabella, God bless her! to have chosen such a minion;
she tolerates him for Ferdinand's sake; but they will find him out one
day. Saint Iago forbid the evil don't fall first."

"Now that is all prejudice, Viego Pedro, and you know it. Bless his
beautiful face! there is no thought of evil there, I'd stake my
existence. He is tormented in his mind about something, poor youth;
but his eyes are too bright and his smile too sad for any thing evil."

"Hold your foolish tongue: you women think if a man is better looking
than his fellows, he is better in every respect--poor fools as ye are;
but as for this Englisher, with such a white skin and glossy
curls, and blue eyes--why I'd be ashamed to show myself amongst
men--pshaw--the woman's blind."

"Nay, Viego Pedro, prejudice has folded her kerchief round your eyes,
not mine," retorted the old dame; and their war of words concerning
the merits and demerits of their unconscious lodger continued, till
old Pedro grumbled himself off, and his more light-hearted helpmate
busied herself in preparing a tempting meal for her guest, which, to
her great disappointment, shared the fate of many others, and left his
table almost untouched.

To attempt description of Stanley's feelings would be as impossible as
tedious; yet some few words must be said. His peculiarly enthusiastic,
perhaps romantic disposition, had caused him to cling tenaciously to
the memory of Marie, even after the revelation of a secret which to
other men would have seemed to place an impassable barrier between
them. To Arthur, difficulties in pursuit of an object only rendered
its attainment the more intensely desired. Perhaps his hope rested
on the conviction not so much of his own faithful love as on the
unchangeable nature of hers. He might have doubted himself, but to
doubt her was impossible. Conscious himself that, wrong as it might
be, he could sacrifice every thing for her--country, rank, faith
itself, even the prejudice of centuries, every thing but honor--an
ideal stronger in the warrior's mind than even creed--he could not and
would not believe that her secret was to her sacred as his honor to
him, and that she could no more turn renegade from the fidelity which
that secret comprised, than he could from his honor. She had spoken
of but one relation, an aged father