without doing so.

'This is my poor house,' continued the soldier, and as he spoke he
beamed on the sentries at the door. 'I am a widower, but God has
given me a daughter who is now of an age to rule my household.
Estella will endeavour to make you comfortable, and an Englishman--a
soldier--will surely overlook some small defects.'

He finished with a good-natured laugh. There was no resisting the
sunny good-humour of this little officer, or the gladness of his
face. His attitude towards the world was one of constant endeavour
to make things pleasant, and acquit himself to his best in
circumstances far beyond his merits or capabilities. He was one who
had had good fortune all his days. Those who have greatness thrust
upon them are never much impressed by their burden. And General
Vincente had the air of constantly assuring his subordinates that
they need not mind him.

The house to which he conducted Conyngham stood on the broad main
street, immediately opposite a cluster of shops where leather
bottles were manufactured and sold. It was a large gloomy house
with a patio devoid of fountain and even of the usual orange trees
in green boxes.

'Through there is the garden--most pleasant and shady,' said the
General, indicating a doorway with the riding-whip he carried.

A troop of servants awaited them at the foot of the broad Moorish
staircase open on one side to the patio and heavily carved in
balustrade and cornice. These gentlemen bowed gravely--indeed, they