Startled by this intelligence, Hildebrand glanced round in search of some place of concealment. A large casement stood on one side of the chamber, screened from observation by a flowing merino curtain, which was fastened, about a foot below the roof, to a pole of cedar, whence its ample folds fell to the floor. This was the only covert that presented itself, but Hildebrand thought that, unless the jealous Spaniard should suspect his ward to have been entertaining a gallant, and subject the chamber to a rigid search, it might prove sufficient. “Have no fear!” he said to Inez. “I will hide me behind yonder curtain; and if it come to the worst, I carry a good Toledo at my side, and will make my way against more foes than one.” There was no time to spare; for the step of Don Gonzalez, rendered more distinct by the clink of his spurs, was now heard at the door. Hardly had Hildebrand slipped behind the curtain, when, pushing open the door, he entered the chamber. He was a man in years; but time, though it had whitened his hair, had not bent his tall form, or broken the stiffness of his figure. Even his grey hair, which would have given a venerable look to others, served to render his appearance more rigid, and the severity of his glance was magnified by his white brows, while his lips, pressed sternly together, looked more repulsive under his grizzled moustachios. He was dressed in grave habits, with a slouched hat, as though--which probably was the case--he had but just returned from abroad, and had passed straight to his ward’s sitting-chamber. On his entrance into the apartment, he closed the door behind him, and, turning round, glanced inquiringly at the two inmates. His quick eye, surveying them earnestly, readily detected the embarrassment of his niece, and discerned that all was not right with her grave duenna. But what probably tended most to excite his suspicions, and led him to surmise that some evil was on foot, was the attire of the two females, which, considering the lateness of the hour, was certainly singular, as it comprehended their veils and mantillas. “Ye have been walking late, Senhoras,” he said, “yet not, I trust, without good escort, or ye may have met some misadventure.” There was a pause. “And whither hast thou roamed, fair niece?” resumed Don Gonzalez. “What happy gallant, of all the young bachelors of Cadiz, hast thou favoured with an assignation?” “What meanest thou, Sir?” said Inez, recovering herself. “Wouldst thou outface me?” demanded Gonzalez. “There is that on thy cheek, woman, would avow thy guilt, though thy tongue grew dumb in swearing its tale false.”