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HOW PETER MET THE SPANIARD
JOHN CASTELL
PETER GATHERS VIOLETS
LOVERS DEAR
CASTELL'S SECRET
FAREWELL
NEWS FROM SPAIN
D'AGUILAR SPEAKS
THE SNARE
THE CHASE
THE MEETING ON THE SEA
FATHER HENRIQUES
THE ADVENTURE OF THE INN
INEZ AND HER GARDEN
PETER PLAYS A PART
BETTY SHOWS HER TEETH
THE PLOT
THE HOLY HERMANDAD
BETTY PAYS HER DEBTS
ISABELLA OF SPAIN
BETTY STATES HER CASE
THE DOOM OF JOHN CASTELL
FATHER HENRIQUES AND THE BAKER'S OVEN
THE FALCON STOOPS
HOW THE _MARGARET_ WON OUT TO SEA
ENVOI

overhung by curling lashes of an ebon black. The effect of these eyes of 

hers shining above those tinted cheeks and beneath the brow of ivory 

whiteness was so strange as to be almost startling. They caught the 

beholder and held him, as might the sudden sight of a rose in snow, or 

the morning star hanging luminous among the mists of dawn. Also, 

although they were so gentle and modest, if that beholder chanced to be 

a man on the good side of fifty it was often long before he could forget 

them, especially if he were privileged to see how well they matched the 

hair of chestnut, shading into black, that waved above them and fell, 

tress upon tress, upon the shapely shoulders and down to the 

slender waist. 

 

Peter Brome, for he was so named, looked a little anxiously about him at 

the crowd, then, turning, addressed Margaret in his strong, clear voice. 

 

"There are rough folk around," he said; "do you think you should stop 

here? Your father might be angered, Cousin." 

 

Here it may be explained that in reality their kinship was of the 

slightest, a mere dash of blood that came to her through her mother. 

Still they called each other thus, since it is a convenient title that 

may mean much or nothing. 

 

"Oh! why not?" she answered in her rich, slow tones, that had in them 

some foreign quality, something soft and sweet as the caress of a 

southern wind at night. "With you, Cousin," and she glanced approvingly 

at his stalwart, soldier-like form, "I have nothing to fear from men, 

however rough, and I do greatly want to see the king close by, and so 

does Betty. Don't you, Betty?" and she turned to her companion. 

 

Betty Dene, whom she addressed, was also a cousin of Margaret, though 

only a distant connection of Peter Brome. She was of very good blood, 

but her father, a wild and dissolute man, had broken her mother's heart, 

and, like that mother, died early, leaving Betty dependent upon 

Margaret's mother, in whose house she had been brought up. This Betty 

was in her way remarkable, both in body and mind. Fair, splendidly 

formed, strong, with wide, bold, blue eyes and ripe red lips, such was 

the fashion of her. In speech she was careless and vigorous. Fond of the 

society of men, and fonder still of their admiration, for she was 

romantic and vain, Betty at the age of five-and-twenty was yet an 

honest girl, and well able to take care of herself, as more than one of 

her admirers had discovered. Although her position was humble, at heart 


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