Whether Concha were giving him her promised
aid he had no means of discovering, and herein lay
another cause of his general vexation. He had
dined every day at the Commandante's, danced
there every night. Concha had been vivacious,
friendly--impersonal. Not so much as a coquettish
lift of the brow betrayed that the distinguished
stranger eclipsed the caballeros for the moment; nor
a whispered word that he retained the friendship
she had offered him on the day of their meeting.
He had not, indeed, had a word with her alone.
But his interest and admiration had deepened. It
was evident that her father and the Governor adored
her, would deny her little. Her attitude to them
was alternately that of the petted child and the
chosen companion. As her mother was indisposed,
she occupied her place at the table, presiding with
dignity, guiding the conversation, revealing the rare
gift of making everyone appear at his best. In the
evening she had sometimes danced alone for a few
moments, but more often with her Russian guests,
and readily learning the English country dances
they were anxious to teach. Rezanov would have
found the gay informality of these evenings delight-
ful had his mind been at ease about his Sitkans, and
Concha a trifle more personal. He had begun by
suspecting that she was maneuvering for his scalp,
but he was forced to acquit her; for not only did
she show no provocative favor to another, but she
seemed to have gained in dignity and pride since his