"Bueno! I will wait. And, after all, Dolores, I am not quite a foreigner. I have dwelt so long in Mexico that I know all your manners and customs. Now I have even assumed the dress of Cholacaca, so I am quite one of your own people."
"And a heretic!"
"Ah! Padre Ignatius has been talking to you?"
"No, querido; my aunt——"
"Oh, never mind your aunt. If I mistake not, she admires a heretic herself."
"El hombrecillo!"
"If by the little man you mean Don Pedro, yes. But oh, my soul, do not let such things as this separate us. You love me, Dolores? You will be true to me?"
"I swear it!" cried the girl, throwing herself on his breast; "I swear it—by the opal!"
"No, no! not that. You surely don't believe in the devil stone?"
"Am I a child to believe?" laughed Dolores, scornfully. "No; I am a true daughter of the Church; but I believe this opal to be mine, and if I can get it I will do so."