never heard of her,” interrupted Duval, bluntly, as he produced a gold oval from his pocket; “but, to save further description, look at this picture. It was done for me by a Spanish fellow at Tlatonac.”
Philip surveyed the portrait in the locket long and earnestly.
“Has Dolores a temper, Jack?”
“Rather!” replied Jack, laconically; “but what do you think of her?”
“She has an exquisite face, and, judging from her mouth, a fiery temper. I don’t wonder you are in love with her, Jack. I hope she’ll make you a good wife.”
“You seem rather doubtful on that point,” said Jack, half annoyed, as he restored the locket to his waistcoat pocket.
“No; but to tell you the truth, I’m doubtful of the advisability of mixed marriages in the matter of race. It may be all very well for the offspring, who, as a rule, are clever; but the husband and wife, having different trainings, do not as a rule hit it off. Race-nature again, my friend.”
“Oh, as to that,” rejoined Jack, equably, “I have lived so long in Mexico and South America that I am half Spanish in my habits, and so can suit myself to Dolores. Besides, when we are married, we will stay in Spanish America; it will be more advisable than coming to England.”
“Yes; I agree with you there,” said Philip, lazily; “in fact, I think the indolent Creole life of South America would suit me also. I also must find an Indian-Spanish spouse. And that reminds me, Jack, that we sat down to discuss my marriage prospects, whereas we’ve done nothing but talk about yours.”
“Well, suppose you marry Doña Eulalia?”
“What, have you found me a spouse already?” cried Cassim, sitting up, with a ringing laugh. “And who, is Doña Eulalia?”
“The cousin of Dolores, and the daughter of Don Miguel.”
“Is she as beautiful as her cousin? But there, I needn’t ask that. Of course, in your eyes, no one is so perfect as Dolores. Well, I will consider the matter when I see Eulalia. It is too important a step to take without due consideration.”
“What nonsense you talk, Philip.”
“Why shouldn’t I talk nonsense? Between you and me, Jack, I grow weary at times of very sensible people. We won’t discuss how that remark applies to you. Tell me how many more members there are of the Maraquando family.”
“Only a son, Don Rafael.”
“And what does the young hidalgo?”
“He is in the Cholacacan navy. A very jolly young fellow of twenty-five. We are great friends. Then there is a Doña Serafina.”
“Another beauty?”
“According to her own idea, very much so,” replied Jack, dryly. “She is the old man’s sister, and acts as duenna to Dolores and Eulalia.”
“Ah, an old maid. Good! We will marry her to Peter, and they can collect butterflies together.”
“Oh, Doña Serafina would marry anyone; but why to Peter?”
“I don’t know. Peter looks as if he needed a wife; so, as he won’t choose one for himself, I must do so for him. Oh,” yawned Philip, rising reluctantly to his feet, “what a pleasant talk we have had. I suppose it’s time we returned to the boat? Come, John, I’ll race you to the road.”
Nothing loth, Jack accepted the challenge at once, and, though Philip ran like a deer, succeeded in beating him easily.
“Whew!” gasped Cassim, leaning breathless against a fence which verged on the high-road. “You’re one too many for me, Jack. I thought I was a good runner, but you can beat me.”
“You’re out of training. Too much flesh. Too soft muscles.”
“Well, I’ll soon right all that at Cholacaca, when we run from the enemy. Constant life on a yacht isn’t a good thing to develop a fellow’s running powers.”
They jumped lightly over the fence, and walked soberly towards Yarmouth in the gathering dusk. The sun was setting, and there was a glory over sea and land somewhat tempered by the twilight. The friends strolled comfortably along, still talking. Indeed, since their meeting they had done little else but talk, more especially Philip, who was not like the same man. His reserve seemed to have melted away like dew before the sun of Duval’s geniality, and he was more like the merry boy of old than the haughty, distrustful man of the present. The reason of this lay in the fact that he felt he could thoroughly trust Jack, and it was a great comfort to him that there was at least one man in the world to whom he could open his heart unreservedly. Secretly, he was much astonished at the pleasure he found in this friendship, and by no means displeased, for while in Jack’s company the world seemed a goodly place in which to dwell. Yet Duval was decidedly a commonplace young man, smart enough at his business, yet by no means distinguished for intellectuality; withal, so warm-hearted and simple-natured, that Philip surrendered himself entirely to the influence of this pleasant friendship.
“You are doing me no end of good, Jack,” he said as they walked through the town. “Before you came, I was gradually becoming a fossil; now I am renewing my youth.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” replied Jack simply. “But indeed, Philip, so far as I can see, you seem to be as jolly as a sandboy.”
“I wasn’t a week ago. It’s the sunshine of your happy geniality, Jack. I will stay with you until the cure is complete. Then I will see you safely married to Dolores; present you with the opal stone, as a dowry, and then——”
“And then!” repeated Jack, as his friend paused.
“Then I will take up the old discontented life again.”
“I won’t let you do that,” said Duval, slipping his arm within that of Philip’s. “No. I will cure you, as you say, and then you will marry Eulalia.”
“Humph! That’s doubtful.”
“I’m not so sure about that, mi amigo. Meanwhile, I’m hungry, so let us go on board and have dinner.”
“Oh, bathos,” laughed Philip, but offered no opposition to so sensible a suggestion.
They sat up late that night talking of many things, but principally about Dolores and Tlatonac. Jack gave his friend a vivid description of the Cholacacan capital, and of the life therein, all of which was highly appreciated by Philip. The baronet’s taste in existence, as in literature, leaned towards the dreamy and fantastical, so the languorous life of Spanish America in sleepy towns, amid the dilapidated pomp of former splendours, appealed greatly to the imaginative side of his nature. Hitherto his visits to these out-of-the-way places had been limited to a few days ashore, while his yacht was anchored in the harbour; but this time he determined to take Jack for his guide, and live the life of these strange people. It was a dream of the Orient in a new world. The Arabian Nights in the west.
Next morning they were up early in order to greet Tim, who duly arrived in a state of great excitement. He was delighted to be once more on the war-path, especially as he was to go
