She gave him another swift, upward glance, but she replied, sedately: “The worst, of course. That is what people always decide when a person suddenly reveals himself in a bad light. Twenty other sides may have been exhibited, but it is the revelation of the worst that always inspires the phrase, ‘At last he has shown himself in his true colors.’”
“Then you are too philosophical to condemn Mrs. Moulton utterly?”
“She has taught me the extent of my philosophy, so I forgive her—and ignore her existence.”
He made no reply, for he saw the Moultons not three yards away. They were in the Capilla Mayor, their necks craned in a vain attempt to register a permanent impression of the gorgeous coloring, the phalanxes of saints, the riotous beauty of carving on wall and arch and tomb. While he hesitated, Mr. Moulton brought down his tired eyes and they rested on Catalina. He gave a sharp exclamation of pleasure and hurried forward, his hand out-stretched. Catalina had included him in her wrath, but she forgave him instantly, and simultaneously conceived a stroke of revenge. Mrs. Moulton and Jane retreated, but Lydia ran to Catalina and kissed her.
“Where have you been?” she cried. “We have been just wild. How perfectly sweet you look in that mantilla!”
Catalina explained, and Mr. Moulton drew a long sigh of relief. “I shall never worry about you again, my dear child. And now tell me what you wish to do. I trust you will become reconciled—”
“I shall remain in Spain perhaps for some months—I have cancelled my passage. But I shall like to see _you_ again. Will you come to the Casa Villéna immediately after luncheon? I have a little plan to propose to you.”
“Certainly I will—but is your decision irrevocable?”
“Quite. Perhaps I shouldn’t keep you now. And my duenna must be waiting for me.”
She nodded and turned away, but Lydia followed and took her arm.
“I can go back to the hotel with Captain Over,” she said to her father, and the two girls walked down the nave with heads together, oblivious of the half-amused, half-sulky man in their wake.
“I have given up all hope of ever seeing him again.”
“I do and I don’t. Of course, it had to end sooner or later, but—well—I _was_ fascinated! And there is so little to look back upon! However, it was great fun imagining what things might happen, and all the while to be quite safe under the paternal wing. I suppose if I had seen him alone I really wouldn’t have kissed him—I probably should have run away in disgust—but I enjoyed it all in imagination. Now, I shall be rather relieved when I am safely out of Spain, for I know that he was quite serious. When we were running away from Albacete and then from Alcazar, I felt as serious as he did—I was really romantic and love-lorn—but I took myself in hand when I arrived here, and now I am quite sensible again.”