schooled herself into a sort of contentment in the hope that her
turn would come when ambition failed. Perhaps this moment had
arrived. At all events, Larralde acquitted himself well, and seemed
sincere enough in his joy at seeing her again.

'Do you love me?' he asked suddenly.

Julia gave a little laugh. Heaven has been opened by such a laugh
ere now, and men have seen for a moment the brightness of it.

'Enough to leave Spain for ever and live in another country?'

'Yes.'

'Enough to risk something now for my sake?'

'Enough to risk everything,' she answered.

'I have tried to gain a great position for you,' went on Larralde,
'and fortune has been against me. I have failed. The Carlist cause
is dead, Julia. Our chief has failed us--that is the truth of it.
We set him up as a king, but unless we hold him upright he falls.
He is a man of straw. We are making one last effort, as you know,
but it is a dangerous one, and we have had misfortunes. This
pestilential Englishman! No one may say how much he knows. He has
had the letter too long in his possession for our safety. But I
have outwitted him this time.'

Larralde paused, and drew from his pocket the letter in the pink
envelope--somewhat soiled by its passage through the hands of