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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

 

Isabella answered that she understood that this was the senora whom he 

had desired to marry when he married some one else, as he alleged by 

mistake, but who was in fact affianced to the prisoner before them; a 

reply at which all who heard it laughed. 

 

At this moment the Marquis of Morella, accompanied by his gentlemen and 

some long-gowned lawyers, appeared walking up the court, dressed in the 

black velvet that he always wore, and glittering with orders. Upon his 

head was a cap, also of black velvet, from which hung a great pearl, and 

this cap he did not remove even when he bowed to the king and queen, for 

he was one of the few grandees of Spain who had the right to remain 

covered before their Majesties. They acknowledged his salutation, 

Ferdinand with a friendly nod and Isabella with a cold bow, and he, too, 

took the seat that had been prepared for him. Just then there was a 

disturbance at the far end of the court, where one of its officers could 

be heard calling: 

 

"Way! Make way for the Marchioness of Morella!" At the sound of this 

name the marquis, whose eyes were fixed on Margaret, frowned fiercely, 

rising from his seat as though to protest, then, at some whispered word 

from a lawyer behind him, sat down again. 

 

Now the crowd of spectators separated, and Margaret, turning to look 

down the long hall, saw a procession advancing up the lane between them, 

some clad in armour and some in white Moorish robes blazoned with the 

scarlet eagle, the cognisance of Morella. In the midst of them, her 

train supported by two Moorish women, walked a tall and beautiful lady, 

a coronet upon her brow, her fair hair outspread, a purple cloak hanging 

from her shoulders, half hiding that same splendid robe sewn with pearls 

which had been Morella's gift to Margaret, and about her white bosom the 

chain of pearls which he had presented to Betty in compensation for 

her injuries. 

 

Margaret stared and stared again, and her father at her side murmured: 

 

"It is our Betty! Truly fine feathers make fine birds." Yes, Betty it 

was without a doubt, though, remembering her in her humble woollen dress 

at the old house in Holborn, it was hard to recognise the poor companion 

in this proud and magnificent lady, who looked as though all her life 

she had trodden the marble floors of courts, and consorted with nobles 

and with queens. Up the great hall she came, stately, imperturbable, 

looking neither to the right nor to the left, taking no note of the 


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