He stopped suddenly as Mariquita came in.

“Beautiful as a star!” was his greeting; and in a fulsome, familiar tone he went on—­“You are like the sun at noon, my beauty, and burn my heart with your bright eyes.”

“Insolent!” retorted Mariquita.  “Hold your tongue.”

“What! cross-grained and out of humour, sweetest?  Come, sit here on my knee and listen, while I whisper some good news.”

“Unless you address me more decently, Benito Villegas, I shall not speak to you at all.”

“Good news! what then?” put in Tio Pedro, in a coaxing voice.

“My fortune is made.  I have found powerful friends here upon the Rock.  Within a few days now, through their help, I shall be part owner of la Hermandad Stable; and I can marry when I please.”

“Fortunate girl!” said Tio Pedro, turning to Mariquita.

“It does not affect me,” replied the girl, with chilling contempt.  “Had you the wealth of the Indies, Benito Villegas, and a dukedom to offer, you should never call me yours.”

Benito’s face grew black as thunder at this unequivocal reply.

“Don’t mind her, my son,” said the old man.  “She has lost her senses:  the evil one has bitten her.”

“Say, rather, one of those accursed red-coats,” interposed his wife, “who has cast a spell over her.  I thought I saw him at the garden just now.  If I was only certain—­”

“Silly girl, beware!” cried Benito, with bitter meaning.  “I know him:  hateful, despicable hound!  He is only trifling with you.  He cares nothing for you; you are not to his taste.  What!  He, a Northern pale-faced boor, choose you, with your dark skin and black hair!  Never!  I know better.  Only to-day I saw him with the woman he prefers—­a fair beauty light-complexioned like himself.”

He had touched the Southern woman’s most sensitive chord.  Jealousy flashed from her eyes; a pang of painful doubt shot through her, though she calmly answered—­

“It is not true.”

“Ask him yourself.  I tell you I saw them together:  first near our stables, and then down by Waterport—­a splendid woman!”

Waterport!  McKay had told her he was returning from that part of the Rock.  There was something in it, then.  Was he playing her false?  No.  She would trust him still.

“I do not believe you, Benito.  Such suspicions are worthy only of a place in your false, black heart!” and with these words Mariquita rushed away.

CHAPTER IX.

OFF TO THE WARS.

Next morning there was much stir and commotion in the South Barracks, where “lay” the Royal Picts—­to use a soldier’s phrase.  The few words let drop by General Wilders, and overheard by Sergeant McKay, had been verified.  “The route had come,” and the regiment was under orders to join the expeditionary army in the East.

A splendid body, standing eight hundred strong on parade:  strong, stalwart fellows, all of them, bronzed and bearded, admirably appointed, perfectly drilled—­one of many such magnificent battalions, the flower of the British army, worthily maintaining the reputation of the finest infantry in the world.