A Queen's Error Part 18

"D'Altenberg," I muttered; "where have heard that name?"

"It was a bloodless revolution."

"And Razzaro triumphed?" I added aloud.

"Yes; Razzaro triumphed," he replied; "and, as a matter of fact, thoroughly got hold of the popular favour. His son is President of the Republic at the present moment. Old Razzaro made a sort of family living of the Presidency."

"And Don Juan d'Alta retired into private life?" I ventured.

"Into private life and the society of his reptiles," added the old diplomatist, rising. "I think the latter have consoled him for many disappointments."

"Whom did he marry?" I asked.

"A very beautiful French lady," he replied, "whose husband, a French n.o.bleman, had come to Aquazilia to try and make his fortune, and had died in the effort."

"Poor man!" I commented. "And Don Juan married his widow?"

"Exactly; and this pretty little lady, Senorita Dolores, who is returning to Valoro with us, is the result of the union. They say she is the very image of her mother, who died when she was five."

"Then the mother must have been very beautiful," was my comment.

The old minister stopped and looked at me for some moments without saying anything. Then, with a peculiar smile about the corners of his good-natured mouth, shook his head and went slowly out of the smoking-room.

CHAPTER XII

HELD UP

Rio with its heat, its tramways, and its great sea wall; its Botanical Gardens in which once more I had the delight of losing myself with Dolores, to the evident anxiety of her aunt and duenna, Mrs.

Darbyshire; it seemed so strange to find such a foreign little person with such a distinctly English name. She, however, refused to be beguiled away by St. Nivel to look at the giraffes. I think she began to smell more than a rat when we reached the monkey house, and to doubt whether his attentions to her were as disinterested as they appeared, especially when she heard that I was his cousin.

To marry his poor relation--me--to a rich heiress--her niece Dolores--no doubt struck her as an end worth taking some trouble about.

Probably she would have done the same herself.

Therefore as we approached our port of debarkation, after leaving Rio, I began to find my little interviews with Dolores becoming restricted more often by the presence of her aunt. Still the recollection of our rambles at Rio, and the rides alone on the tops of the electric trams--which are quite orthodox--remained with us; and if Mrs.

Darbyshire became more severe, were there not those little stolen interviews in the dark part of the promenade deck, where the electric light did not reach, worth a lifetime; and did I not day by day have that growing feeling round my heart, which thrilled me through and through and told me that my little darling was beginning to care for me?

Did she not absolutely shed tears the night we stole away from the concert and sat hand in hand under one of the boats, when I whispered just one little sentence; that I loved her? Ah me! shall I ever forget those beautiful Southern nights, with the stars shining like great diamonds above us--nights made for love?

My cousin Ethel at first did not by any means appreciate the turn my affections had recently taken; she made several pointed and rather sarcastic remarks about it, having in her mind, I presume, the recollection of our little meetings in the long corridors of dear old Bannington.

"You seem very much taken up with that Miss d'Alta," she remarked one day. "I thought you did not like foreign girls. I don't suppose she can ride or shoot a bit."

"I don't want her to, Ethel," I replied tersely; "there are no facilities for either amus.e.m.e.nt on board ship."

She smiled, then bit her lips to check it; she wanted to be dignified and couldn't. She descended to mere abuse.

"You were always a fool about girls, Bill," she continued. "Any girl could twist you round her finger. Do you remember Mary Greenway?"

Now the recollection of that young lady was peculiarly galling to me at the moment. After expressing deep love for me--I was eighteen--for nearly six months, she eloped with one of her father's grooms!

"Please don't mention that young lady," I implored; "it makes me feel ill. I believe at the present moment she teaches young ladies in her husband's riding-school."

Ethel laughed heartily.

"She might do worse," she replied. "I think she is rather a plucky girl."

"What, to run away with a groom?" I suggested.

"No," she snapped; "to work for her living."

We came to our port of debarkation, Monte Video, at last. It seemed like the end of a holiday to go ash.o.r.e, and take to the dusty train, luxurious though it was, but _now_ I had the precious casket in my care, and the anxiety was almost too much for me.

"Look here," said St. Nivel, when we had been in the train about an hour, "you are looking pretty sick over that precious packet, why don't you let me take care of it for you?"

I tapped nervously at the trousers pocket in which I was carrying it.

"I hardly like to let it go out of my own charge," I answered anxiously; "though I know, of course, that it would be safe with you."

We were, at the time of this conversation, running through a most beautiful valley, glorious with tropical vegetation. The train was gradually rising on an easy gradient to the higher lands, where we hoped to get fresher air, for the heat in the valley was most oppressive after three weeks pa.s.sed practically in the open on the deck of the _Oceana_.

Without in any way forcing myself on Mrs. Darbyshire's society, I contrived to see a good deal of Dolores on this little railway journey, which was only to occupy a day and a half.

Once on the beautiful tableland with its gorgeous views of hill and dale, ocean and distant mountain, the train sped onwards at a rate almost alarming to us used to the slower methods of Europe.

It was well on in the evening; we had dined excellently in the well-provided restaurant car, and were lounging about in the moonlight thinking of turning in--for there were several sleeping-cars attached to the train--when the incident occurred which very nearly rendered my journey fruitless. It was just as we had entered Aquazilian territory, and pa.s.sed the customs. We were, as I have said, lounging about smoking, when the train which was running through a deep cutting suddenly slowed down, and presently the breaks [Transcriber's note: brakes?] were put on so hard that we who were standing near were nearly thrown off our feet.

"Whatever is the matter?" cried Ethel, who was sitting in a compartment of the smoking-car with us. "I hope there is no accident."

St. Nivel, who was sitting opposite to me, suddenly leaned forward and whispered--

"If you have that packet of yours handy, give it to me. I think there will be trouble."

He had travelled in America before, and I placed a good deal of reliance on his experience.

From the front of the train there arose a great hubbub, a chorus of exclamations in Spanish.

"I thought so," remarked St. Nivel; "you'd better look sharp, Bill, if you want to make that packet safe."

As he spoke, he held out towards me an open cigar-box which he had taken out of the rack.

Then I saw what he was aiming at; he wished me for some reason to hide my packet among the cigars in the box.

I did not hesitate a moment, but put my hand in my trousers pocket, and pulling out the precious packet, placed it among the cigars.

He immediately covered it with more cigars, and then put the box back in the rack.