His mother was seated on a sofa at the far end, conversing gaily with an English officer, whose massive epaulets showed him to be one who held a high command. Other ladies sat about the sides of the room, most of whom had one or two cavaliers in attendance, while the centre of the room was filled with a crowd of dancers, of whom some half-dozen wore the scarlet uniforms of Great Britain. The dance was one of those formal square dances then much in vogue, and a flush of pleasure spread over Marcelino's face as he looked upon the graceful forms flitting to and fro. As he looked there came a pause in the dance, and the smile that was on his face vanished in a frown. At the head of the room, standing conspicuously side by side under the full glare of a chandelier of wax lights, were two upon whom his gaze was riveted at once. One was a British officer, in the scarlet jacket and tartan trews of a Highland regiment. He had the yellow hair, clear skin, blue eyes, and reddish whiskers of a Lowland Scot. The other was his own sister Dolores. One looking casually upon these two might have taken them for brother and sister, there was so much likeness between them, but a second look would have shown an essential difference. Dolores Ponce de Leon was remarkable for the small size of her hands and feet, and for the delicate moulding of her features. The hands and feet of her partner, though well formed, were large, and his features were somewhat coarse--there was more of strength than of elegance in his appearance. No one after a careful scrutiny could have taken them for brother and sister, they were types of two branches of one great race, the Anglo-Saxons of Great Britain, the Goths of Spain. Again closing the door, Marcelino walked away to his own room in an inner part of the house, saying to the same girl to whom he had before spoken-- "When these go, tell my mother that I have returned." When he reached his own room he clapped his hands, at which summons an aged negro presented himself. "Ah! Patroncito Marcelino," said the old negro as he saw him; "so much as the Señora has hoped for you, and no one could tell where you were. The Patron said you would be back in a few days, but now it is weeks. In what can I be of service to your Señoria?" "Have you seen Don Carlos Evaña to-day?" "I saw the Señor Evaña not half-an-hour ago, when I went in with a tray of dulces." "Go and tell him that I am come, but do not let anyone else hear what you say." CHAPTER IV SHOWING HOW A PATRIOT MAY ALSO BE A TRAITOR The meeting between Marcelino Ponce de Leon and his friend Don Carlos Evaña was very cordial; they embraced like brothers. Then Don Carlos proceeded to question Marcelino concerning all that he had done during the past three weeks. To every question Marcelino answered unreservedly, Evaña listening to him with a tender light playing in his usually stern eyes, and an approving smile upon his lips.