allant host had obtained a very clear idea of the sentimental side of the
story.

"Gentlemen," said Don Carlos at length, "to-morrow we shall resume our
march, and I shall be happy to do for you all in my power. I shall be
sorry to part with you, yet glad to restore you to your liberty. A company
will take you to the nearest railway station, from which you can proceed
to your respective destinations. But before you go allow me to offer you a
suggestion which I am sure you will not take amiss.

"You, gentlemen, are looking forward to the time when these lovely and
amiable ladies shall sustain the closest possible relation toward you. You
will pardon me, I trust, if I hint just now that their position is a very
embarrassing one, travelling as they are without proper chaperonage. In
Spanish eyes that is a calamity. Now, the suggestion that I was about to
make is this, namely, that you should free these ladies from this
embarrassment by persuading them to accept you now as their legal
protectors. Surely nothing can be more desirable on all sides. No place
can be more fitting than this; no hour more convenient; no scene more
romantic. As for the priest, here sits my reverend friend the Cure of
Santa Cruz--a warrior-priest, an eccentric character, yet a brave and
noble soul; and he, let me assure you, can tie the knot so tight that it
could not be made tighter even by the Holy Father himself, assisted by the
Patriarch of Constantinople and the Archbishop of Canterbury."

This suggestion came as sudden as thunder from a clear sky; yet after the
first shock it was considered by all present, and especially by those most
concerned, as--first, ingenious; then, happy; then, most excellent; and,
finally, glorious. When this unparalleled and matchless royal speech was
ended the whole company burst forth into rapturous applause.

Ashby and Harry, in wild excitement, forgot everything but their old
friendship and their latest love. They grasped one another's hands with
all their olden fervor.

"Hurrah, old fellow!" cried Harry.

"Glorious! isn't it, old boy?" cried Ashby.

"I'll do it; won't you?" cried Harry.

"I will, by Jove!" cried Ashby.

And thus that quarrel was settled.

Brooke said nothing, but his eyes grew moist in his deep joy, and he
muttered and hummed all to himself the words of some strange old song
which had no connection with anything at all. For this was his fashion,
the odd old boy! whenever his feelings