They rode one in front and one behind and I felt my spirits lift as we saw the town lying in the valley. The sun was brilliant and it shone on the white houses and the Cathedral, which John Gregory told us had been built at the beginning of the century. We could not see the great mountain peak from this spot, but we had seen it at sea when we had approached the island—the great Pico de Teide which the ancients had believed supported the sky and that the world ended just beyond it. Perhaps one day, he suggested, we should be permitted to go farther inland and there we should see this miraculous mountain.

We left our mules at a stable and we went on foot into the cobbled streets, closely guarded by the two men. The women mostly wore black, but on the balconies of some of the houses there were ladies who leaned on the wrought-iron balustrades to take a close look at us, and some of those wore colored skirts and mantillas.

“They are interested in us,” said Honey.

“They know you are foreigners and come from the Hacienda,” said John Gregory.

“Do they know,” I asked, “how we were brought here?”

John Gregory replied: “They know you have come from a foreign land.”

He took us into the Cathedral. The three of them crossed themselves before the magnificent altar while I looked at the sculptures and the fine ornaments that decorated it. I had never seen such a great cathedral. The smell of incense hung heavy on the air. The figure of the Madonna was the most startling object, though; she was in an enclosure of wrought iron and wore a dress of some silken material on which sparkling gems had been sewn. On her head was a crown of jewels and on her fingers diamonds and brilliantly colored stones of all kinds.

John Gregory was beside me. He said: “People give their wealth to the Madonna. Even the poorest will give what they have. She refuses nothing.”

As I turned away he whispered: “It would be better if you acted as a good Catholic. It would not be wise for it to be seen that you are what would be called a heretic.”

I said: “I have had enough of the Cathedral. I will wait outside.”

He accompanied me and I left Honey on her knees with Richard Rackell beside her. I wondered what she was thanking the Virgin for—the death of her good husband; her abduction; the safe arrival of her child?

Outside the sun was brilliant.

I said to John Gregory: “So you are a devout Catholic. I wonder have you confessed what harm you have done to two women who did nothing to hurt you?”

He flinched slightly. He was always uncomfortable when I upbraided him, which I did often. He folded his hands together and as he did so I noticed again the scars on his wrists and wondered how he had acquired them.

“I did what I was obliged to do,” he said. “I had no wish to harm you.”

“So you thought we could be dragged away from our homes, ravished and humiliated and no harm done?”

He did not answer and we were joined by the other two.

There was such a sense of freedom in walking in those streets; there was an air of excitement in the town too. The shops enchanted us. It was long since we had seen shops. They were open onto the streets, like enchanted caverns. There was spicy food and hot bread, different from the variety we had at home; but what fascinated us most were the bales of various sorts of cloth which we saw in one shop.

We could not resist handling them. Honey ran her hands over them ecstatically, and a dark-eyed woman in black came to us and showed us materials—one was velvet, deep midnight blue.

Honey said: “Why, Catharine, that would become you. What a gown that would make you!”

She held it up against me and the woman in black nodded her head sagely.

Honey draped the material around me. I said: “What are you doing, Honey? We have no money.” I was conscious then of wearing Isabella’s gown and I determined that I would do so no longer. Honey had made gowns for herself. So should I, but how I should have enjoyed wearing the velvet!

“Come away, Honey,” I said, “this is absurd.”

And I insisted on walking away.

At the inn we were given a beverage which had a strange flavor of mint. We were thirsty and drank it eagerly and after that we mounted our mules and returned to the Hacienda.

It was later that day when going to my room I found a package on my bed. I opened it and there was a roll of velvet. It was the material I had seen in the shop.

I stared at it in amazement. I held it against me. It was beautiful. But what did it mean? Did the woman in the shop think we had bought it! It would have to be returned at once.

I went to find Honey. She was as surprised as I was and we decided that the woman had misunderstood and thought we had purchased the material.

We must find John Gregory at once and explain to him. When we did so he said: “It is no mistake. The material is for you.”

“How can we pay for it?”

“It will be arranged.”

“Who will arrange it?”

“The shop woman knows you come from the Hacienda. There will be no difficulty.”

“Does it mean that Don Felipe will pay for this?”

“It would amount to that.”

“I shall certainly not accept it.”

“You must.”

“I have been forced to come here. I have been forced to submit, but I will not take gifts from him.”

“It would be impossible to return it. The woman believes you to be under the protection of Don Felipe. He is the first gentleman of the island. It would be a slight to him if you returned the velvet. That would not be allowed.”

“It can be taken to him then, for I shall not use it.”

John Gregory bowed and took the material which I thrust into his arms.

Honey said: “It’s a pity. It would have made a most becoming gown.”

“Would you have me accept gifts from my seducer? It would be tantamount to giving him my approval of what has taken place. I shall never forgive him for what he has done to me.”

“Never, Catharine? That is a word one should use with care. It could have been so much worse. He has at least treated you with some respect.”

“Respect! Were you present? Did you witness my humiliation?”

“At least it was not what Isabella suffered at the hands of Jake Pennlyon.”

“It was the same … the method may have been slightly different. She bore Jake Pennlyon’s child and I am to bear his. It nauseates me, Honey, to think of it.”

“Still,” said Honey, “it’s a pity about the velvet.”

A summons came for me to dine with Don Felipe. It was the first time since that other occasion when he had told me for what purpose I had been brought here.

I wondered what it meant.

I dressed myself with care. Honey and I had made a gown for me from the material we had found in the sewing room. As I put it on I thought how illogical it was to accept that material and haughtily decline the velvet which had come from the shop. Everything in this house belonged to him, so naturally did anything in the sewing room. We lived on his bounty.

But the velvet was a kind of gift direct from him and that I would refuse.

He was waiting for me in the cool dark salon in which we had dined before, and as on that other occasion I sat at one end of the table, he at the other. In his black doublet trimmed with that dazzlingly white lace he looked every bit the fastidious gentleman. When we had last dined thus, none of those embarrassing encounters had taken place; now they stood between us—memories which I imagined he no more than I could efface.

He was aloof in his manner but courteous, and we were served as before by silent-footed servants with the food with which I had now become familiar. I was aware of a certain excitement which I had not known before. I was very much conscious of him. I wondered about him and I kept thinking of that night when I had touched his face gently and tenderly and pretended to sleep.