"You never told me that it was like this."
"You did not understand," said Alvar; "and perhaps I did not know."
He did not show any emotion, but his face smoothed out into an
expression of satisfaction and well-being, and he smiled with a little
air of triumph at Cherry's ecstasies. This was what he had belonging to
himself in the background all the time, when his relations had thought
him so ignorant and inexperienced, and Alvar, like all the Lesters,
valued himself on his own belongings.
They drove up to the door of a large house, painted in various colours,
and with gaily-striped blinds and balconies; while through the
ornamental iron gates they caught glimpses of the _patio_, gay with
flowers.
Cheriton thought of the winter's night, the blazing fire, the shy, stiff
greetings that had formed Alvar's first glimpse of Oakby. The great
gates were opened, and as they came in a tall old man came forward, into
whose arms Alvar threw himself with some vehement Spanish words of
greeting; then, in a moment, he turned and drew Cheriton forward,
saying, still in Spanish,--
"My grandfather, this is my dear brother."
Don Guzman de la Rosa bowed profoundly, and then shook hands with
Cheriton, who contrived to understand his greeting and inquiry after his
health, and to utter a few words in reply, feeling more shy than he had
ever done in his life; but then he was at fault.
"My grandfather says you are like what our father was when he came here;
that is true, is it not? And now come in."
Don Guzman showed the way into an inner room, which seemed dark after
the brilliant _patio_, and was furnished much like an ordinary
drawing-room; and here Cheriton was introduced to Dona Luisa Aviego, a
middle-aged lady, Don Guzman's niece, and to two exceedingly pretty
young girls, and a little girl, her daughters. He felt surprised at
seeing them all in French fashions. Here also was their brother, Don
Manoel, a tall, dark, solemn-looking young man, who exactly fulfilled
Cheriton's idea of a Spaniard, and enabled him to understand Dona
Luisa's remark that Alvar had grown into an Englishman. The old
grandfather was like a picture of Don Quixote, a very ideal of chivalry,
which character a life of prudent, careful indifferentism entirely
belied.
Alvar would not let Cherry stay to talk, telling him that he must rest
before dinner, which was at five, and soon took him upstairs into a very
comfortable bedroom, looking out on a pretty garden, and opening into
another belonging to himself.
Cheriton laughed and submitted, but the novelty and beauty had taken his
impressionable nature by storm and carried him quite out of himself.
When left alone, he had leisure for the surprising thought that his
father had gone through all these experiences without their apparently
leaving any trace except one of distaste and aversion; next, to wonder
whether it was Alvar's fault or their own that they had remained so
ignorant of Alvar's country; and lastly, that spite of the similarity of
colouring to his Spanish kindred and something in the carriage, Alvar
_did_ look like a Lester and an Englishman after all.
Cherry had got used by this time in some degree to the Spanish eatables,
and as he liked the universal chocolate and was as little fanciful as
any one so much out of health could be, he got on as well as his bad
appetite would let him, with the _ollas_ and _gazpachos_ spite of their
garlic, and at any rate he liked omelettes and the bread, which was
excellent. Their servant, Robertson, had, however, regarded everything
Spanish with such horror, and had proved of so little use and so
disagreeable, that Cheriton finally cut the knot by sending him back to
Gibraltar, where he hoped to find a homeward-bound family, Alvar being
certain that there would be sufficient attendance at his grandfather's.
Conversation at dinner was difficult. They all understood a little
English, which was rather more available than Cheriton's Spanish, and
Don Manoel spoke tolerably fluent French, to which, as Cheriton had in
his time earned several French prizes, he _ought_ to have been able to
respond more readily than was perhaps the case. Cheriton did not mind
seeing grapes and melons eaten after soup, though he thought the taste
an odd one, but he could not quite reconcile himself to the universal
smoking after the first course in the presence of the ladies. The young
ones were very silent, though they cast speaking glances at him with
their great languishing eyes; till after dinner the little girl, whom
Cherry thought the softest and prettiest thing he had ever seen,
produced a great blushing and tittering by whispering a question, which,
while apparently reproving, Dona Carmen was evidently encouraging her to
repeat to Alvar, who sat on her other side.
Alvar laughed and shook his head.
"No, Dolores; I think there is not one like him," he said, adding to
Cherry--"She wants to know if all Englishmen are like you--white and
golden like the saints in the cathedral. It is true, she means the
painted statues."
"I am pale, because I have been ill," said Cherry, in his best Spanish,
and holding out his hand. "Little one, will you make friends? What
shall I say to her, Alvar?"
But Dolores, with an ineffable expression of demure coquetry, retreated
upon her sister, and would not accept his attentions, though she peeped
at him under her long eye-lashes directly he turned away.
The family met at eleven for a sort of _dejeuner a la fourchette_, but
every one had chocolate in their own rooms at any hour they pleased,
with bread or sponge-cake, which they called _pan del Rey_. Alvar
brought some on the next morning to Cheriton and while he was drinking
it proceeded to enlighten him a little on the family affairs and habits.
"I perceive that the prayer-bell does not ring at half-past eight," said
Cherry smiling.
"No, the ladies all go to church every morning. In the country my
grandfather is up early, and Manoel too, but here I cannot say--we meet
at eleven. It is usual to write letters or transact business in the
morning on account of the heat."
"Does Don Manoel--is that what I ought to call him?--live here? Has he
anything to do?"
Alvar then explained that Manoel had no regular occupation, having a
little money of his own. He smoked and played cards, and went to the
casino, "that is what you call a club." Moreover he was a very good
Catholic, and though he had not openly joined the Carlist party--the
Royalists as Alvar called them--he was thought to have a leaning towards
them: but Don Guzman never allowed politics to be discussed in his
house--neither politics nor religion.
"Is he a `good Catholic,' too?" asked Cherry.
Alvar shrugged his shoulders.
"He conforms," he said. "You understand that I am English. I have no
part in these matters, otherwise at times my grandfather might have
suffered for allowing me to be brought up as a Protestant; but I was
taught to see that they did not concern me. But, _querido_, you must
not talk and `discuss' as you do with Jack at home, or you might make a
quarrel."
"No, I understand that. But if I were you I should not like to be
supposed to be an outsider."
"In both countries?" said Alvar. "No; but you see I had been taught
that I was an Englishman."
"Yet your grandfather would not let you come to England when you were a
boy."
"My grandfather," said Alvar, "hates the priests. He would rather have
me for his heir, though I am a heretic, than Manoel. That is true,
though he would not say so. Look, he has seen many changes in this
country, one is as bad as the other; he would rather be quiet and let
things pass. So would I."
"The Vicar of Bray," murmured Cherry. "That creed is born of despair,"
he said aloud. "I should be miserable to think so of any country."
"Yes?" said Alvar, with a sort of unmoved inquiry in his tone. "You
have convictions. In England they are not difficult. But, besides, my
grandmother loved me very much, and not only was she religious like all
women, she was what you call good. She would not part with me, and I
loved _her_."
Alvar paused and put his hand across his eyes, with more emotion than he
often showed.
"She thought," he continued, "that I should perhaps become a Catholic if
I married a _Sevillana_, and that my father's neglect would make me
altogether a De la Rosa. Forgive me, Cherito, it is not quite to be
forgotten."
"I think it was very likely to be the case," said Cheriton.
"No, it was not the part for my father's son, nor for an Englishman, nor
did my grandfather wish it. I am no Catholic--never!"
"I suppose your tutor was--was a strong Protestant?" said Cheriton,
rather surprised at the first religious conviction he had ever heard
from Alvar's lips.
"Well, I do not think you would have approved of him nor my father if he
had known. He, what is it you say?--did no duty--and I do not think he
was much like your Mr Ellesmere. He told me that he was paid `to put
the English doctrines into me and teach me to speak English;' and he
would say, `Remember it is your part to be a Protestant because you are
an English gentleman.'"
"But," said Cherry, "when you came to England you must surely have seen
that we did not look on it in that way?"
"I did not much attend to your words on it," said Alvar. "As you know,
what my father required of me I did, and I saw that English gentlemen
thought much of their churches and their priests--or at least, that my
father did so. I conformed, but I had not expected that in England,
too, I should be a _foreigner_--a stranger. And I would not be other
than my real self."
"I'm afraid we were very unkind to you."
"You? Never!" said Alvar.
"But why did you never tell me all this before? I should have
understood you so much better."
"I did not think of it till I considered what would seem strange to you
here--what you would not comprehend easily."
Cheriton remained silent. That Alvar had all his life considered
himself so entirely as a Lester and an Englishman was a new light to
him, and he could fully appreciate the check of finding himself regarded
by the Lesters as an alien, for he knew that even he himself had never
ceased so to look upon Alvar.
"We understand each other now," he said affectionately. "I am glad you
have told me this. But, Alvar, though `convictions' may seem to you
easy in England, you would make a great mistake if you imagined that the
religion of such a man as my father was for the sake of what you call
conformity, and that it did not influence his life."
"No," said Alvar, "I did not think so of my father and you. I did not
comprehend at first, but I see now that--it interests you."
"Never doubt that," said Cheriton earnestly. "You have seen all my
failures, but never doubt that is the one thing `interesting,' the one
thing to--to give one another chance."
He paused as a look of unspeakable enthusiastic conviction passed over
his face; then blushed intensely, and was silent. Like most young men,
whatever their views, he was in the habit of talking a good deal of
"theology," and could have rectified Alvar's hazy notions with ease; but
personal experiences in such discussions were generally left on one
side.
Alvar did not follow him; but perhaps that look made more impression
than a great many arguments on the status of religion in England.
"Don't imagine I underrate your difficulties, or my own, or any one's,"
Cherry added hurriedly.
"I have no difficulties," said Alvar simply; "I believe you--always--
Now, do not talk any longer--rest before you get up."
Cheriton now perceived that the sort of separation that had been pursued
with regard to Alvar accounted for much of his indolence and
indifference. He recognised how deeply his pride had been wounded by
his kindred's cold reception, and he in a measure understood the sort of
loyalty, half-proud, half-faithful, that held him to his own. He found
that Alvar had never written a word of complaint of his family home to
Seville; he perceived that as time went on he dropped nothing that he
had acquired in England, either of dress or speech, attended the English
service at the Consulate regularly, even if Cheriton was unable to go,
and preferred to be called Mr Lester. Cheriton saw that he intended no
one to think that his English residence had been a failure.
But there was one phase of this feeling of which even Cheriton had no
suspicion. Alvar did not forget that one thing had belonged to him in
England, to which Spain offered no parallel. He refused to answer any
questions from his grandfather as to his engagement or its breach. He
had not been brought up to think that romantic passion was a necessary
accompaniment of a marriage engagement, but rather as a thing to be got
through first; and it had been with a very quiet appreciation that he
had given his hand away at his father's request. And when Virginia was
once his, he was thoroughly contented with her, her rejection had
wounded him exceedingly, and now he missed her confiding sweetness
increasingly, he felt that a good thing was gone from him, and he would
not now have attempted to console Cheriton as he had done at Oakby. But
he never spoke of his feelings, and as Cheriton could not think that he
had acted rightly by Virginia, the subject was never mentioned between
them.