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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

pointed arches, and a vast fairy-like building set upon a hill. He was 

dazed with pain and fatigue as, a long-legged, blood-stained figure, 

crowned with his quaint hat of grasses, he rode through that wondrous 

and imperial place. 

 

Yet no man laughed at him, absurd as he must have seemed; but perhaps 

this was because under the grotesqueness of his appearance they 

recognised something of his quality. Or they might have heard rumours of 

his sword-play at the inn and on the ship. At any rate, their attitude 

was that of courteous dislike of the Christian, mingled with respect for 

the brave man in misfortune. 

 

At length, after mounting a long rise, they came to a palace on a mount, 

facing the vast, red-walled fortress which seemed to dominate the place, 

which he afterwards knew as the Alhambra, but separated from it by a 

valley. This palace was a very great building, set on three sides of a 

square, and surrounded by gardens, wherein tall cypress-trees pointed to 

the tender sky. They rode through the gardens and sundry gateways till 

they came to a courtyard where servants, with torches in their hands, 

ran out to meet them. Somebody helped him off his horse, somebody 

supported him up a flight of marble steps, beneath which a fountain 

splashed, into a great, cool room with an ornamented roof. Then Peter 

remembered no more. 

 

* * * * * 

 

A time went by, a long, long time--in fact it was nearly a month--before 

Peter really opened his eyes to the world again. Not that he had been 

insensible for all this while--that is, quite--for at intervals he had 

become aware of that large, cool room, and of people talking about 

him--especially of a dark-eyed, light-footed, and pretty woman with a 

white wimple round her face, who appeared to be in charge of him. 

Occasionally he thought that this must be Margaret, and yet knew that it 

could not, for she was different. Also, he remembered that once or twice 

he had seemed to see the haughty, handsome face of Morella bending over 

him, as though he watched curiously to learn whether he would live or 

not, and then had striven to rise to fight him, and been pressed back by 

the soft, white hands of the woman that yet were so terribly strong. 

 

Now, when he awoke at last, it was to see her sitting there with a ray 

of sunlight from some upper window falling on her face, sitting with her 

chin resting on her hand and her elbow on her knee, and contemplating 


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