"No; I am an English merchant. But try that wine, Senor; it came from
Granada, and they say that it is good."

D'Aguilar tasted it, then drank off his glass.

"It is good, indeed," he said; "I have not its equal in my own cellars
there."

"Do you, then, live in Granada, Senor d'Aguilar?" asked Castell.

"Sometimes, when I am not travelling. I have a house there which my
mother left me. She loved the town, and bought an old palace from the
Moors. Would you not like to see Granada, Senora?" he asked, turning to
Margaret as though to change the subject. "There is a wonderful building
there called the Alhambra; it overlooks my house."

"My daughter is never likely to see it," broke in Castell; "I do not
purpose that she should visit Spain."

"Ah! you do not purpose; but who knows? God and His saints alone," and
again he crossed himself, then fell to describing the beauties
of Granada.

He was a fine and ready talker, and his voice was very pleasant, so
Margaret listened attentively enough, watching his face, and forgetting
to eat, while her father and Peter watched them both. At length the meal
came to an end, and when the serving-men had cleared away the dishes,
and they were alone, Castell said:

"Now, kinsman Peter, tell me your story."