“No plan as yet, only an idea.” She turned and looked at Betty, adding,
“This lady is your cousin, is she not, though of a different station, and somewhat far away?”
Margaret nodded.
“You are not unlike,” went on Inez, “of much the same height and shape, although the Señora Betty is stronger built, and her eyes are blue and her hair golden, whereas your eyes are black and your hair chestnut. Beneath a veil, or at night, it would not be easy to tell you apart if your hands were gloved and neither of you spoke above a whisper.”
“Yes,” said Margaret, “what then?”
“Now the Señora Betty comes into the play,” replied Inez. “Señora Betty, have you understood our talk?”
“Something, not quite all,” answered Betty.
“Then what you do not understand your lady must interpret, and be not angry with me, I pray you, if I seem to know more of you and your affairs than you have ever told me. Render my words now, Dona Margaret.”
Then, after this was done, and she had thought awhile, Inez continued slowly, Margaret translating from Spanish into English whenever Betty could not understand:
“Morella made love to you in England, Señora Betty—did he not?—and won your heart as he has won that of many another woman, so that you came to believe that he was carrying you off to marry you, and not your cousin?”