“Why don’t you sleep?” her mother asked her. “I don’t intend to go to bed to-night. You know already that Caballuco has taken away with him the men we had here. Something might happen, and I will keep watch. If I did not watch what would become of us both?”
“What time is it?” asked the girl.
“It will soon be midnight. Perhaps you are not afraid, but I am.”
Rosarito was trembling, and every thing about her denoted the keenest anxiety. She lifted her eyes to heaven supplicatingly, and then turned them on her mother with a look of the utmost terror.
“Why, what is the matter with you?”
“Did you not say it was midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Then——But is it already midnight?”
Rosario made an effort to speak, then shook her head, on which the weight of a world was pressing.
“Something is the matter with you; you have something on your mind,” said her mother, fixing on her daughter her penetrating eyes.