Now, it must be remembered that in all this time del Torre had spoken with Dolores face to face three times, and three times only. Each time he had seen her he had mentioned his nephew’s name, and each time she had changed color. He would have married her to Don Ramon could he have done so; even now he had dared but for Ramon’s own conduct. But all this time del Torre was in an agony of doubt, through which even Ramon’s insults could not penetrate. He would have sent Dolores to a convent, but the archbishop forbade it; the priest feared not Don Ramon against Don Sebastian; perhaps, however, he feared him at the convent doors. But all this time del Torre had seen Dolores twice a day, at mass, where he went and gazed upon her, dim through incense.
IX.
On Wednesday morning the Marquis del Torre had a last interview with his bride. She was to go to her last maidenly confession on that day; and he called early in the morning, in his uniform as General of the Liberal army. When he came upon her she was all in white and girt about with pearls. Pearls were in her dark hair, pearls in the folds of her white dress, pearls in her neck, no other color about her save the magic amethystine in her eyes. Her face was pale.
Del Torre bowed over her hand, then stood beside her. After the greeting, he said:
“Señorita Dolores, I am still your guardian—I would only marry you to make you happy. Do you think I can?” His lips were paler than hers, and his voice sounded cold. She only answered:
“Quite sure, señor.”
“And the rose I saw you give my nephew—is it dead?”
Again the rush of color to her face; but, after a start, she answered, “It is dead.” She stammered slightly, trying to say more; to relieve her embarrassment he rose and left her. “Hasta mañaña!”
“Mañaña por la mañaña,” she answered, forcing brightness in her voice. The marquis went out into the sunlight; he felt his heart as cold as hers.
But again Dolores burst into tears; then, quickly drying them, she wrote a letter and sealed it. Then she called Jacinta.