"Yes; do you know where she is?" asked Jack, imploringly, laying his hand on the rusty sleeve of the priest.
"Alas! no," replied the Padre, shaking his head; "all the afternoon did I wait for her in the cathedral, but she came not!"
"She did not go to your own church, my father?" questioned Rafael, eagerly.
"No, my son. I though she might have done so, and repaired thither. But the sacristan tells me no one has been to the shrine this day. The messengers you sent out to seek for the poor lady came to the chapel to ask me if I had seen her, and it was then that I first heard of your great loss."
"Think you the Indians have her?" asked Philip, anxiously.
"Alas! who knows, Señor? The idolaters have been worshipping the devil stone greatly of late, and it may be that they have carried off Doña Dolores to assist in the ceremonies."
"Not to sacrifice her?"
"Santissima Virgen! no, Señor," rejoined the Padre, hastily. "The idolaters look on her as the guardian of the stone, as one under the protection of the god himself. If they have carried her off," added the priest, emphatically, "her life is safe, and her honour. But my son, Don Hypolito?"
"Do you think——?"
"I know nothing, my son. But there is one Pepe."