Memories—A Self-confessed Patriot—Confidences—Plain Speaking—Reflections—A Public Departure Jack stopped now, and faced round at the speaker, who still had a hand on his arm. "I recognized you at once," the man continued, "though your disguise is good, very good. I have not seen you for a good many years, Jackino, but I never forget any face I have once seen, still less one that I have lived with in the days of childhood. Don’t you remember your old friend—" "Why, you’re Miguel Priego," interrupted Jack, with no great cordiality of tone. "How you’ve grown! Who would have thought you would have topped me by a couple of inches! And what a swell, too!" "Yes, I have changed more than you, amigo," said Don Miguel with a complacency that irritated Jack, already annoyed that his disguise had been penetrated. "Ah! and there have been other changes, great changes, since I last saw you, Jackino. You are an English officer, and I might perhaps not have recognized you so easily if you had been dressed in your uniform like your friends; but the hat and cloak—oh! Miguel Priego would have been a fool indeed if he had not known the dear companion of his boyhood." "You’re rather more affectionate than you were when we parted, Miguel," said Jack bluntly. "Don’t say that. We were always good friends, Jackino; is it not true? You and I and Juanita—ah! what fun we had in the old house at Barcelona. Do you remember the times when Don Fernan came from Saragossa and brought Juanita on a visit to your father and mine, and how we shared the presents he gave us?" "Your share usually happened to be the biggest, if my memory doesn’t play me false." "Well, I was the eldest of the three; I am three years older than you, amigo mio, and four years older than Juanita." "How is Juanita?" asked Jack. "In fair health, but paler than I should like to see her. But her grief will wear away in time, and when she becomes my—" "Her grief! What do you mean, Miguel?" "You do not know, then? I am forgetting; of course you do not get news very well here. I myself rode in only to-day from Saragossa, at the risk of my neck, Jackino, with tidings of the unfortunate misadventure at Tudela, and—" "Come, Miguel," said Jack, "we can’t stand here. Where are you staying? While I’m in this rig-out it will be better for me to go with you than for you to come with me." "That is true. Come, then; I am staying at the Fonda de Suizo in the Calle de Zamora. We can talk there at ease, and I shall be glad on my part to hear again of my old friends your father and mother, and to tell you of the sad changes that have taken place, and the bright changes also, dear friend."