"What then? Surely you do not fear that they suspect anything with regard to us?" asked Juan, in some alarm.
"No; but they have brought tidings."
"You tremble, Dolores. You are ill. Speak--what is it?"
"They have brought tidings of a great Act of Faith, to be held at Seville, upon a day not yet fixed when they left the city, but towards the end of this month."
For a moment the two stood silent, gazing in each other's faces. Then Dolores said, in an eager breathless whisper, "You will go, señor?"
Juan shook his head. "What you are thinking of, Dolores, is a dream--a vain, wild dream. Long since, I doubt not, he rests with God."
"But if we had the proof of it, rest might come to us," said Dolores, large tears gathering slowly in her eyes.
"It is true," Juan mused; "they may wreak their vengeance on the dust."
"And for the assurance that would give that nothing more was left them, I, a poor woman, would joyfully walk barefoot from this to Seville and back again."
Juan hesitated no longer. "I go," he said. "Dolores, seek Fray Sebastian, and send him to me at once. Bid Jorge be ready with the horses to start to-morrow at daybreak. Meanwhile, I will prepare Doña Beatriz for my sudden departure."