on
Jose.

"I want to speak to you," she said. "But who is that man, and what is he
doing with Pepito?"

Don Jose explained. Donna Elvira spoke for a few minutes longer; then
she turned and walked towards the house. By this time Derrick had
performed the surgical operation on Pepito, and was about to set him
down, when the lady stopped and said:

"What is the matter with my dog, senor?"

"It was,"--began Derrick, in Spanish; then, as he did not know the
Spanish word, he concluded, in English, "a thorn."

Donna Elvira started, but so slightly that the involuntary movement of
surprise was unnoticed by Derrick. "You are English?" she said, in his
own language.

"Yes, my lady," replied Derrick.

Pepito's foot still hurt him, and, with extreme sorrow for himself, he
turned over on his back.

"He is still in pain," said Donna Elvira. "Will the senor oblige me by
carrying him to the house?"

Derrick picked up Pepito and followed the tall and stately figure up the
drive. Presently they came in sight of the _casa_. Donna Elvira ascended
slowly the broad steps of the verandah and seated herself in a
satin-cushioned rocking-chair. She was silent and immovable for so long
a space that Derrick was inclined to think that she had really forgotten
his presence; then, slowly, she turned her head and looked at him, with
a kind of masked scrutiny.

"What is your name, and whence do you come, senor?" she asked, in a
voice which was low and grave.

Derrick told her that his name was Sydney Green, and that he came from
London.

"To seek your fortune here, as so many English do?" she inquired.

"For that--and other reasons, my lady--I mean, senora," replied Derrick.

"And you have not found it?" she said, with a glance at his worn clothes
and haggard face.

Derrick shrugged his shoulders; there was no need for words.

"It is often so," remarked Donna Elvira. "There are many English here in
this country. Was it wise to leave your native land--your parents, for
all the ills that might befall you in a strange country?"

"It was not," admitted Derrick, with a smile.

At the smile, which transformed his face, Donna Elvira's long,
exquisitely-shaped hands closed spasmodically on the arms of the chair
and a strange expression flashed for an instant across her face; it was
an expression almost of fear, of the suddenly-awakened memory of a thing
painful, poignant. The expression lasted only for an instant; the next,
her face wa