"Ah, Dolores!" said Jack, with a sad smile, "had it not been for the Señor Correspoñsal, your Juan would have been lost." "Poor Tim," muttered Philip, softly, turning away to conceal his emotion. The tears sprang to Dolores' eyes, and Eulalia was scarcely less affected. It seemed too terrible that they should all be so happy, when poor Tim, whom they loved so much, should be lying in the grave. The bitterest part of it was that the death had taken place just when the war was over. Tim had escaped the siege of Janjalla, the battle of Centeotl, only to fall in a skirmish at the obscure town of Totatzine. It was fate! They remained silent for a few minutes, thinking of the dead man, and then Philip aroused himself with an effort. "Come!" he said, with a smile. "We must not be melancholy on our wedding-day. Poor Tim himself would have been the last to countenance such folly. We can talk of other things. Of Rafael, for instance." "There is not much to talk about Rafael," said his sister, lightly; "he is married to Doña Carmencita. He is now Governor of Acauhtzin, and when Cholacaca has a fleet, he shall be its almirante. I think Rafael is very fortunate, Felipe." "Not so fortunate as I am," replied the baronet looking at her fondly. "Nor as I!" cried Jack, slipping his arm round Dolores' waist. "Ah, Philip, how many things have taken place since we sailed over these waters! Did I not tell you you would bring home a bride?" "You did, and I half believed you. For once, you have prophesied correctly. I am grateful to you, Jack, for having led me to secure this prize. When you came back to England, I was settling down into a crusty old bachelor; but now you will find me a devoted husband--all through your coming to England." "Say, rather, all through the agreement we made at Bedford School, so many years ago. That boyish freak has brought us good fortune and charming wives." "Yet Peter is still a bachelor." "Oh, Peter will marry a beetle! I expect we shall see him in England shortly. For myself, I do not complain of Fate; nor does Dolores." Jack bent down tenderly, and kissed Dolores, which example seemed so good to Philip that he at once followed suit. The sun was setting in the west, and the sky was one blaze of colours. Pale rose, tawny-yellow, and high above, the delicate blue of the departing day. The sky, the sea were all glittering with rainbow hues of unexampled brilliancy. The yacht, leaving all this splendour behind, steamed steadily onward towards the coming night. "It is like the Chalchuih Tlatonac," said Dolores, pointing to the sunset. "And we are leaving it behind," replied Jack, taking her hand; "but I do not regret it, querida. If Fate has denied me the harlequin opal, she has given me a dearer and more precious gift--yourself." THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's The Harlequin Opal, Vol. 3 (of 3), by Fergus Hume