LITMIR.BIZ

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race, as she stood there coyly talking to the man of her choice.

      The contrast was strongly marked between them. She, with raven hair, dark skin, and soft brown eyes, was a perfect Southern brunette: quick, impatient, impulsive, easily moved. He, fresh-coloured, blue-eyed, with flaxen moustache, stalwart in frame, self-possessed, reserved, almost cold and impassive in demeanour, was as excellent a type of a native of the North.

      "What brings you this way, Señor don Sargento, at this time of day?" said Mariquita. "Was it to see me? It was unwise, indiscreet; my aunt—"

      "I have been on duty at Waterport," replied McKay, with a rather ungallant frankness that made Mariquita pout.

      "It is plain I am only second in your thoughts. Duty—always duty. Why did not you come last night to the Alameda when the band played?"

      "I could not, star of my soul! I was on guard."

      "Did I not say so?—duty again! And to-morrow? It is Sunday; you promised to take me to Europa to see the great cave. Is that, too, impossible?"

      McKay shook his head laughingly, and said—

      "You must not be angry with me, Mariquita; our visit to Europa must be deferred; I am on duty every day. They have made me orderly—"

      "I do not believe you," interrupted the girl, pettishly. "Go about your business! Do not trouble to come here again, Don Stanislas. Benito will take me where I want to go."

      "I will break Benito's head whenever I catch him in your company," said the young serjeant, with so much energy that Mariquita was obliged to laugh. "Come, dearest, be more reasonable. It is not my fault, you know; I am never happy away from your side. But, remember, I am a soldier, and must obey the orders I receive."

      "I was wrong to love a soldier," said Mariquita, growing sad and serious all at once. "Some day you will get orders to march—to India, Constantinople, Russia—where can any one say?—and I shall never see you more."

      This trouble of parting near at hand had already arisen, and half-spoilt McKay's delight at the prospect of sailing for the East.

      "Do you think I shall ever forget you? If I go, it will be to win promotion, fame—a better, higher, more honourable position for you to share."

      It was at this moment that La Zandunga interrupted the lovers with her resonant, unpleasant voice.

      "My aunt! my aunt! Run, Stanislas! do not let her see you, in Heaven's name!"

      The Serjeant disappeared promptly, but the old virago caught a glimpse of his retreating figure.

      "With whom were you gossiping there, good-for-nothing?" cried La Zandunga, fiercely. "I seemed to catch the colour of his coat. If I thought it was that son of Satan, the serjeant, who is ever philandering and following you about—Who was it, I say?"

      Mariquita would not answer.

      "In with you, shameless, idle daughter of pauper parents, who died in my debt, leaving you on my hands! Is it thus that you repay me my bounty—the home I give you—the bread you eat? Go in, jade, and earn it, or I'll put you into the street."

      The girl, bending submissively under this storm of invective and bitter reproach, walked slowly towards the house. Her aunt followed, growling fiercely.

      "Cursed red-coat!—common, beggarly soldier! How can you, an Hidalgo of the best blue blood, whose ancestors were settled here before the English robbers stole the fortress—before the English?—before the Moors! You, an Hidalgo, to take up with a base-born hireling cut-throat—"

      "No more, aunt!" Mariquita turned on her with flashing eyes. "Call me what you like, you shall not abuse him—my affianced lover—the man to whom I have given my troth!"

      "What!" screamed the old crone, now furious with rage. "Do you dare tell me that—to my face? Never, impudent huzzy—never, while I have strength and spirit and power to say you no—shall you wed this hated English mercenary—"

      "I will wed no one else."

      "That will we see. Is not your hand promised—"

      "Not with my consent."

      "—Promised, formally, to Benito Villegas—my husband's cousin?"

      "I have not consented. Never shall I agree. Benito is a villain. I hate and detest him!"

      "Tell him so to his face, evil-tongued slut!—tell him if you dare! He is now in the house. That is why I came to fetch you. I saw him approaching."

      "He knows my opinion of him, but if you wish it, aunt, he shall hear it again," said the young girl, undaunted; and she walked on through the workroom, straight into the little shop.

      Benito was seated at the counter, talking confidentially, and in a very low voice, with Tio Pedro.

      "Are the bales ready, uncle? In two days from now we can run them through like oil in a tube."

      "Have you settled the terms?"

      "On both sides. Here the inspectors were difficult, but I oiled their palms. On the other side the Custom-house officers are my friends. All is straight and easy. The tobacco must be shipped to-morrow—"

      "In the same falucha?"

      "Yes; for Estepona. Be ready, then, at gunfire—"

      He stopped suddenly as Mariquita came in.

      "Beautiful as a star!" was his greeting; and in a fulsome, familiar tone he went on—"You are like the sun at noon, my beauty, and burn my heart with your bright eyes."

      "Insolent!" retorted Mariquita. "Hold your tongue."

      "What! cross-grained and out of humour, sweetest? Come, sit here on my knee and listen, while I whisper some good news."

      "Unless you address me more decently, Benito Villegas, I shall not speak to you at all."

      "Good news! what then?" put in Tio Pedro, in a coaxing voice.

      "My fortune is made. I have found powerful friends here upon the Rock. Within a few days now, through their help, I shall be part owner of la Hermandad Stable; and I can marry when I please."

      "Fortunate girl!" said Tio Pedro, turning to Mariquita.

      "It does not affect me," replied the girl, with chilling contempt. "Had you the wealth of the Indies, Benito Villegas, and a dukedom to offer, you should never call me yours."

      Benito's face grew black as thunder at this unequivocal reply.

      "Don't mind her, my son," said the old man. "She has lost her senses: the evil one has bitten her."

      "Say, rather, one of those accursed red-coats," interposed his wife, "who has cast a spell over her. I thought I saw him at the garden just now. If I was only certain—"

      "Silly girl, beware!" cried Benito, with bitter meaning. "I know him: hateful, despicable hound! He is only trifling with you. He cares nothing for you; you are not to his taste. What! He, a Northern pale-faced boor, choose you, with your dark skin and black hair! Never! I know better. Only to-day I saw him with the woman he prefers—a fair beauty light-complexioned like himself."

      He had touched the Southern woman's most sensitive chord. Jealousy flashed from her eyes; a pang of painful doubt shot through her, though she calmly answered—

      "It is not true."

      "Ask him yourself. I tell you I saw them together: first near our stables, and then down by Waterport—a splendid woman!"

      Waterport! McKay had told her he was returning from that part of the Rock. There was something in it, then. Was he playing her false? No. She would trust him still.

      "I do not believe you, Benito. Such suspicions are worthy only of a place in your false, black heart!" and with these words Mariquita rushed away.

      CHAPTER IX.

      OFF TO THE WARS

      Next morning there was much stir and commotion in the South Barracks, where "lay" the Royal Picts—to use a soldier's phrase. The few words let drop by General Wilders, and overheard by Sergeant McKay,

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