"He'll be having plenty where he is," said Philip, grimly; "but look at that fellow going to do the Raleigh business with his zarape."
By this time they had passed into the Calle Otumba, and a frantic young Spaniard, rushing forward, flung his cloak on the ground for Dolores to walk across. The idea pleased the people, and in a few moments the whole way up to the Casa Maraquando was spread with zarapes. Then flowers were flung before them in profusion.
"The primrose path of dalliance," quoth Philip, laughing. "I hope these excited people won't throw their bodies next for us to walk over. Don't be afraid, Doña Dolores. You have your guard of honour to protect you."
Indeed, this frenzied demonstration rather scared the girl. All the colour faded out of her face, and slipping the opal into her bosom, she shrank terrified against her lover. Jack took her arm within his own and his touch gave her more confidence; but what with the singing, shouting, cloak-flinging, flower throwing, and what not, they both felt quite worn out, and were not at all sorry to at length arrive at the door of the Casa Maraquando.
The news of their arrival had preceded them, as a matter of course, and Don Miguel, with outstretched arms, was waiting in the gateway to receive them. Dolores, with a cry of delight, flung herself on the breast of her uncle, who at once carried her into the patio. Then the rest of the party followed, and the doors were shut against the mob, which still remained in the street, terribly excited. After a time, the tumult quietened down like a sea after a storm, and the throng streamed into the Plaza de los Hombres Ilustres to organise a demonstration to the honour and glory of the Chalchuih Tlatonac and its guardian.
In the patio, Dolores was received with noisy demonstrations by Doña Serafina, and with joyful tears by Eulalia. It was some time, however, before Don Miguel could part from his niece, for he held her to his breast, calling upon all the saints to shower blessings on her head. Never had the stately Spaniard been so moved, and when he delivered his niece over to the tender embraces of Serafina and Eulalia, he turned towards Jack, with tears in his eyes.
"Señor Juan," he said, in a voice of emotion, grasping the young man's hand, "I can never repay you for what you have done. From this moment you may command the services, and the lives of myself and those dear to me."
He could say no more, but, with a wave of his hand, walked to the other end of the court to conceal his emotion. Jack was scarcely less moved, and as for Dolores, she was being overwhelmed by her cousin and aunt.
"Dear one," chattered the old lady, noisily; "now that thou art safe, I vow twenty candles to the Virgin, who has thus watched over thee, and to San Juan, who is the patron saint of your preserver."
"I, also!" cried Eulalia, who had in some mysterious way become possessed of the history. "I vow a jewel to San Felipe, for it was his namesake who preserved them from the Indians."