"I’m glad the tornado’s over, Mercy. It’s a blessing we shall all go back safe and sound to England. Your brother’s a regular storm-centre." "I think the storm-centre is moving at last, and across the Atlantic, as the weather people say, Mrs. Curwen," I said, referring to the war news. "Ah, did you hear me, Lord Glisfoyle; but you seem to be the storm-centre. Have you brought any more little volcanoes or blizzards with you now? I shall always think of a cyclone when I think of you," she declared, laughing. "I am summoned to the Palace this afternoon, and hope, with you, to find the tornado is over." "Have you any news of Sarita’s matters then?" "None, but I expect to hear everything this afternoon. Did you see Dolores Quesada this morning, Mercy?" "Yes, poor girl; she is awfully broken by her trouble, and holds to her intention to take the veil. She is going to-day to the Convent of the Sacred Heart." "About the best place for her, poor soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Curwen, "for a time, of course. I’m not surprised there are plenty of convents in this most cut-and-thrust country. I should go into one if I were a Spaniard—which, thank goodness, I am not!" "I think she would have done better to accept Madame Chansette’s offer to go and live with her in Paris," said I. "She’s too pretty, too young, and too rich to be shut up for life." "Madame Chansette was with me this morning, and we both tried to persuade her," replied Mercy, "but she wouldn’t listen to us. We hope she will come round. Madame Chansette says she will have at least a year of the novitiate, and a good many things may happen in a year." "A good many may happen in a week in Madrid," cried Mrs. Curwen. "It must be in the air, I suppose." "Yes, friendships ripen quickly here, even when people are not Spanish," said I. "And feelings stronger than friendship, too," retorted the widow, understanding my reference. "Yes, feelings stronger than friendship," I repeated, with a significant accent and glance at her. At that moment, Mayhew came in and I added, "And here’s a friend, I hope." She smiled, and turned to greet him. "Well, what news?" she asked, a little eagerly, I thought. "I’ve got the leave," he answered. I looked a question at them both, and Mayhew answered it, with a self-conscious smile of forced indifference. "I’m going for a week or two to London, Ferdinand. I’ve been a bit overdoing it here." "Overdoing what, Silas?" "Work, of course; and as you’re all going——" "It’s my doing, Lord Glisfoyle," said Mrs. Curwen. "I hate travelling without someone to look after things; and when we do go I know you will be too much occupied under the circumstances to attend to us, so I told Mr. Mayhew he ought to get leave and come with us." "I hope with all my heart he’ll never come back," I said, very earnestly; and Mercy smiled. "Not come back? Why?" he asked. "Because I hope you’ll find a sphere in London that will keep you there."