Juanita led off her charge without again allowing her to approach Carlos, thus rendering unnecessary the ceremony of a farewell. Was this the mother's contrivance, lest by spell of word or gesture, or even by a kiss, the heretic might pollute or endanger the innocent babe?
When they were alone together, Doña Inez was the first to speak. "I do not think you can be so wicked after all; since you love children, and play with them still," she said in a low, half-frightened tone.
"God bless you for those words, señora," answered Carlos with a trembling lip. He was learning to steel himself to scorn; but kindness tested his self-control more severely.
"Amigo mio," she resumed, drawing nearer and speaking more rapidly, "I cannot quite forget the past. It is very wrong, I know, and I am weak. Ay de mi! If it be true you really are that dreadful thing I do not care to name, I ought to have the courage to stand by and see you perish."
"But my kinsfolk," said Carlos, "do not intend me to perish. And for the protection they afford me I am grateful. More I could not have expected from them; less they might well have done for me. But I would to God I could show them and you that I am not the foul dishonoured thing they deem me."
"If it had only been something respectable," said Doña Inez, with a sort of writhe, "such as some youthful irregularity, or stabbing or slaying somebody!--but what use in words? I would say, I counsel you to look to your own safety. Do you not know my brothers?"
"I think I do, señora. That an Alvarez de Meñaya should be defamed of heresy would be more than a disgrace--it would be a serious injury to them."
"There be more ways than one of avoiding the misfortune."
Carlos looked inquiringly at her. Something in her half-averted face and the quick shrug of her shoulders prompted him to ask, "Do you think they mean me mischief?"
"Daggers are sharp to cut knots," said the lady, playing with her fan and avoiding his eye.