Clear and bright was the sky, and wherever the rays of the sun penetrated it was for them to fall in a shower of golden arrows, and form tracery upon the green carpet beneath the trees, amid whose branches, screaming, chattering, climbing, and hanging head downwards, or fluttering from bough to bough, were hundreds of rainbow-hued parrots, beautiful as Nature’s dyes could paint.

It was a scene of exceeding beauty, and was not lost even upon blunt, hungry Tom.

“Well,” he exclaimed, “if this don’t pay for coming out, may I never again wire out a bar of best mottled.  It’s a rum sort of country though; one time frightening you to death, and the next minute coaxing you into staying.  S’pose, Mas’r Harry, that there’s a sort of foreign market-garden?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Tom, that’s my uncle’s plantation.”

“With all my heart, Mas’r Harry; but choked as I am with thirst I should like one of them pumpkins or some of the other outlandish fruits.  Let’s have a pen’orth, sir.  My! what a sight though!  I hope this is the spot.  But there, only look, Mas’r Harry, did you ever see such sparrows?  Look at the colour of ’em!  If I don’t take home a cageful, and one of them red and yaller poll-parrots, I don’t stand here now.  But are you sure your uncle Reuben lives here, Mas’r Harry?”

“I think this must be the spot, Tom,” I said, “according to the guide’s description.”

“Why, he must be quite a lord, sir.  He’s never touched taller or soap in his life, I’ll bet.  But, say, Mas’r Harry, we look rough uns to go and see him, don’t us?”

I laughed and then led the way, Tom following close behind, till we entered a sort of court-yard surrounded by sheds, with men and women busily at work at what I afterwards learned was the preparation of the cocoa.

“And you’re Harry Grant then, are you?” said a tall, brown-skinned man, who was pointed out to me as the owner of the place, and who, upon my introducing myself, received me with a hearty English grip of the hand.  “Hang it, my lad, it brings old times back to see a face fresh from home!  You’re your mother’s boy plain enough.  But come in, and welcome, my lad, though we have been in a bit of a stew; my girl upset in a canoe and half drowned; but the gentleman with her saved her.  She’s not much the worse for it, though.”

I turned round hastily and just in time to stop Tom, who was about to blurt out the whole affair, for I thought it better to be silent, I hardly knew why, my mind being just then in a state of confusion, it being rather startling to find that I had probably been the means of saving the life of my own cousin; though why the gentleman who was with her ­whoever he might be ­should have the credit of what Tom and I had done, I did not know.  Anyhow, I was to be beneath the same roof, and I thought matters would come right in the end.

My uncle led the way into a cool half-darkened room, where I was introduced to an aunt, of whose existence I was not aware, inasmuch as she was the lately married widow of a neighbouring planter.  Then I heard my uncle say: 

“Not lying down, Lill?  All right again?  Glad of it!  Well, this is a cousin for you, and I hope you will be good friends.”

I hardly know what I did or said just then; for timidly coming forward out of the shade, I saw the fair vision of the morning, but now deadly pale ­the maiden whom a couple of hours before I had rescued from so horrible a death.  She was dressed in a simple muslin, and her long fair hair, yet clammy and damp, was tied with a piece of blue ribbon, and hung down her shoulders.  It was the same sweet English face that might be seen in many a country home far away in our northern islands; but out there, in that tropic land, with its grand scenery and majestic vegetation, she seemed to me, in spite of her pallor, to be fairy-like and ethereal; and for a while, as I thought of the events of a short time before ­events in which she was unconscious that I had played a somewhat important part ­I was blundering and awkward, and unable to say more than a few of the commonest words of greeting.

I have no doubt that they all thought me an awkward clumsy oaf, and I must have looked it; but I was suddenly brought to myself by my uncle’s voice and the sight of a pair of eyes.

“Harry,” said my uncle, performing the ceremony of introduction, “Mr ­(I beg his pardon) Don ­Don Pablo Garcia, a neighbour of mine ­the gentleman who just saved Lilla’s life.  Garcia, my nephew ­my sister’s son ­from old England.”

Instinctively I held out my hand, and the next moment it was clasping something cold and damp and fishlike.  A few words in English passed, but they were muttered mechanically, and for a few moments, each apparently unable to withdraw his hand, we two stood looking in each other’s eyes, my expression ­if it was a true index of my heart ­being that of wonder and distrust; for I seemed again, for the first time in my life, to be undergoing a new series of sensations.  I knew in that instant of time that I was gazing into the eyes of a deadly enemy ­of a man who, for self-glorification, had arrogated to himself the honour of having saved Lilla’s life, probably under the impression that we, being strangers, were bound down the river, and would never again turn up to contradict him.  What he had said, how much he had taken upon himself, or how much had been laid upon him through the lying adulations of his Indian servants, I do not know; but I was conscious of an intense look of hatred and dislike ­one that was returned by a glance of contempt which made his teeth slightly grate together, though he tried to conceal all by a snake-like smile as he recovered himself, and, seeking a way out of his difficulty, exclaimed: 

“The senor and I have met before:  he helped me to save our woodland flower from the river.”

“Indeed! my dear Harry!” exclaimed my uncle, catching my disengaged hand in his, while by an effort I dragged the other away from Garcia’s cold clutch, his eyes fixing mine the while, and seeming to say, “Be careful, or I’ll have your life!” ­mine, if they could speak a language that he could interpret, plainly saying, “You cowardly hound, you left her to perish!”

“It was nothing on my part, Uncle,” I said quietly.  “Nothing but what any fellow from the old country would have done.”

The next moment Mrs Landell, my new aunt, had thrown her arms round my neck.  Formality of greeting was at an end, and, with tears in her eyes, she thanked me and welcomed me to the hacienda.

I was longing for the scene to be at an end, for I was growing troubled and confused, when once more the tell-tale blood swept into my face, as I blushed like a great girl; for Lilla came up, and with the colour mantling, too, in her pale cheeks, thanked me for what I had done.

It was some few minutes before I was sufficiently cool and collected to have a good look at Garcia, when I found him to be a tall, well-shaped, and swarthy young fellow, about five years my senior.  He was handsome, but there was a sinister look about his dark eyes, and, in spite of his effeminacy, his lithe limbs betokened great strength.  An instinctive feeling of dislike, though, kept growing upon me, although there was a pleasant smile, and a display of regular white teeth, which he turned upon me every time he encountered my eyes, as he lounged about smoking a cigar, whose fragrance betokened its origin.  He was easy of mien, well-dressed, and evidently at home there; while by contrast I was shabby, travel-stained, and awkward.

I disliked him at first, because I knew him to be a cur and a liar; but soon ­ay, before ten minutes had elapsed ­I knew why my instinctive dislike was increasing every moment we were together.  I learned why we were to be enemies to the end; for after smoking some time in silence, listening the while with smiling face to my uncle’s questions concerning home ­questions which I answered clumsily, growing each moment more put out and annoyed; for it seemed to me that Garcia’s smiles were pitying, and that he was comparing his grace with my awkwardness ­he rose, crossed over to Lilla, who was seated, took her hand in his as if it belonged to him of right, raised it to his lips, and then, with a smiling farewell to all present, he whispered a few words to my cousin, gave me ­his lips smiling the while ­a sharp meaning look from between his half-closed eyelids, and then his figure darkened for an instant the sunshine streaming in at the door, and he was gone.