"Truly no, my daughter," answered the Padre, cautiously. "He was here but for a little"——
"And he went away when?" interrupted Donna Maria.
"At nine."
"And where?" continued Donna Maria, with a rising colour.
"To San Francisco, my child; it was business of great importance—but sit down, sit, little one! This impatience is of the devil, daughter, you must calm yourself."
"And do you know, Father Felipe, that he went away without coming near me?" continued Donna Maria, in a higher key, scarcely heeding her ghostly confessor.
"Possibly, most possibly! But he received a despatch—it was of the greatest importance."
"A despatch!" repeated Donna Maria, scornfully. "Truly—from whom?"
"I know not, my child," said Father Felipe, gazing at the pink cheeks, indignant eyes, and slightly swollen eyelids of his visitor; "this impatience—this anger is most unseemly."
"Was it from Mr. Dumphy?" reiterated Donna Maria, stamping her little foot.