By this time Derrick had
performed the surgical operation on Pepito, and was about to set him
down, when the lady stopped and said:
"What is the matter with my dog, senor?"
"It was,"--began Derrick, in Spanish; then, as he did not know the
Spanish word, he concluded, in English, "a thorn."
Donna Elvira started, but so slightly that the involuntary movement of
surprise was unnoticed by Derrick. "You are English?" she said, in his
own language.
"Yes, my lady," replied Derrick.
Pepito's foot still hurt him, and, with extreme sorrow for himself, he
turned over on his back.
"He is still in pain," said Donna Elvira. "Will the senor oblige me by
carrying him to the house?"
Derrick picked up Pepito and followed the tall and stately figure up the
drive. Presently they came in sight of the _casa_. Donna Elvira ascended
slowly the broad steps of the verandah and seated herself in a
satin-cushioned rocking-chair. She was silent and immovable for so long
a space that Derrick was inclined to think that she had really forgotten
his presence; then, slowly, she turned her head and looked at him, with
a kind of masked scrutiny.
"What is your name, and whence do you come, senor?" she asked, in a
voice which was low and grave.
Derrick told her that his name was Sydney Green, and that he came from
London.
"To seek your fortune here, as so many English do?" she inquired.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193