Rooksby was kind enough. He had me over to the Priory, where I made
the acquaintance of the two maiden ladies, his second cousins, who kept
house for him. Yes, Ralph was kind; but I rather hated him for it,
and was a little glad when he, too, had to suffer some of the pangs of
jealousy--jealousy of Carlos Riego.

Carlos was dark, and of a grace to set Ralph as much in the shade as
Ralph himself set me; and Carlos had seen a deal more of the world than
Ralph. He had a foreign sense of humour that made him forever ready to
sacrifice his personal dignity. It made Veronica laugh, and even drew
a grim smile from my mother; but it gave Ralph bad moments. How he came
into these parts was a little of a mystery. When Ralph was displeased
with this Spanish connection he used to swear that Carlos had cut a
throat or taken a purse. At other times he used to say that it was a
political matter. In fine, Carlos had the hospitality of the Priory, and
the title of Count when he chose to use it. He brought with him a short,
pursy, bearded companion, half friend, half servant, who said he had
served in Napoleon's Spanish contingent, and had a way of striking his
breast with a wooden hand (his arm had suffered in a cavalry charge),
and exclaiming, "I, Tomas Castro! . . ." He was an Andalusian.

For myself, the first shock of his strangeness over-come, I adored
Carlos, and Veronica liked him, and laughed at him, till one day he
said good-by and rode off along the London road, followed by his Tomas
Castro. I had an intense longing to go with him out into the great world
that brooded all round our foothills.

You are to remember that I knew nothing whatever of that great world.
I had never been further away from our farm than just to Canterbury