Enter cautiously R. OLD MORTON.
Old Morton. I was not mistaken! It was the skirt of that Jezebel daughter that whisked past my door a moment ago, and her figure that flitted down that corridor. So! The lover driven out of the house at four P. M., and at twelve o'clock at night the young lady trying the gate secretly. This may be Spanish resignation and filial submission, but it looks very like Yankee disobedience and forwardness. Perhaps it's well that the keys are in my pocket. This fond confiding Papist may find the heretic American father of some service. (Conceals himself behind pillar of corridor.)
After a pause the head of JOHN OAKHURST appears over the wall of corridor: he climbs up to roof of corridor, and descends very quietly and deliberately to stage.
Oakhurst (dusting his clothing with his handkerchief). I never knew before why these Spaniards covered their adobe walls with whitewash. (Leans against pillar in shadow.)
Re-enter JOVITA, hastily.
Jovita. All is lost; the corral door is locked; the key is outside, and Concho is gone,—gone where? Madre di Dios! to discover, perhaps to kill him.
Oakhurst (approaching her). No.
Jovita. Juan! (Embracing him.) But how did you get here? This is madness!
Oakhurst. As you did not come to the mission, I came to the rancho. I found the gate locked—by the way, is not that a novelty here?—I climbed the wall. But you, Miss Castro, you are trembling! Your little hands are cold!
Jovita (glancing around). Nothing, nothing! But you are running a terrible risk. At any moment we may be discovered.