“Silence!  Answer my questions, or I will thrash you with your own whip.  How dared you intrude yourself upon me to-day?”

“Forgive me!  I was so utterly amazed.  I thought some bright vision had descended from above, sent, perhaps, by the Holy Virgin”—­he crossed himself devoutly—­“I could not believe it was you.”

“Thanks!  I am not an angel from heaven, I know, but let that pass.  Answer me!  How dared you speak to me to-day?”

“The sight of you awoke old memories; once again I worshipped you—­your shadow—­the ground on which you trod.  I thought of how you once returned my love.”

“Miserable cur!  I never stooped so low.”

“You would have been mine but for that cursed Englishman who came between us, and whom you preferred.  What did you gain by listening to him?  He lured you from your home—­”

“No more!  The villain met with his deserts.  He is dead—­dead these years—­and with him all my old life.  That is what brings me here.  Attend now, Benito Villegas, to what I say!”

“I am listening,” he answered, cowering before her, and in a tone of mingled fear and passion.  It was evident this strange woman exercised an extraordinary influence over him.

“Never again must you presume to recognise me—­to address me, anywhere.  If you do, take care!  I am a great lady now—­the wife of an English general.  I have great influence, much power, and can do what I please with such scum as you.  I have been with my husband just now to the Convent, the palace of the Governor, and I have but to ask to obtain your immediate expulsion from the Rock.  Do not anger or oppose me, man, or beware!”

Benito looked at her with increasing awe.

“Obey my behests, on the other hand, and I will reward you.  Ask any favour!  Money?”—­she quickly took out a little purse and handed him a ten-pound note—­“here is an earnest of what I will give you.  Interest?  Do you want the good-will of the authorities—­a snug appointment in the Custom-house, or under the police?  They are yours.”

“I am your slave; I will do your bidding, and ask nothing in return but your approval.”

“Nothing!  You grow singularly self-denying, Senor Benito.”

“The senora will really help me?” said Benito, now cringing and obsequious.  “One small favour, then.  I am tired of this wandering life.  Here to-day in Cadiz; Ronda, Malaga, to-morrow.  At everybody’s beck and call—­never my own master, not for an hour.  I want to settle down.”

“To marry?” inquired Mrs. Wilders, contemptuously.  “In your own station?  That is better.”

“I have not forgotten you, senora.  But the wound was beginning to heal—­”

She held up her hand with a menacing gesture.

“I will not deny that I have cast my eyes upon a maiden that pleases me,” Benito confessed.  “I have known her from childhood.  Her friends approve of my suit, and would accept me; but what lot can I offer a wife?”