“When I entered the house and made inquiries as to who were at home, the servants informed me that master was at the mineria, and that the Señorita had retired, and could see no one that night!
“By Heaven! I was in such a passion, I hardly knew what I said at the moment. The thing’s scarce credible; but, that this low fellow is on secret terms with her, is as sure as I am a soldier.”
“It does seem incredible. What do you mean to do, Roblado?”
“Oh! I’m safe enough about her. She shall be better watched for the future. I’ve had a hint given to Don Ambrosio. You know my secret well enough, colonel. Her mine is my loadstone; but it is a cursed queer thing to have for one’s rival such a fellow as this! Ha! ha! ha!”
Roblado’s laugh was faint and unreal. “Do you know,” continued he, striking on a new idea, “the padré don’t like the güero family. That’s evident from the hints he let drop to-night. We may get this fellow out of the way without much scandal, if the Church will only interfere. The padrés can expel him at once from the settlement if they can only satisfy themselves that he is a ‘heretico.’ Is it not so?”
“It is,” coldly replied Vizcarra, sipping his wine; “but to expel him, my dear Roblado, some one else might be also driven off. The rose would be plucked along with the thorn. You understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“That, then, of course, I don’t wish—at least not for the present. After some time we may be satisfied to part with rose, thorn, bush, roots, and all. Ha! ha! ha!”
“By the way, colonel,” asked the captain, “have you made any progress yet?—have you been to the house?”
“No, my dear fellow; I have not had time. It’s some distance, remember. Besides, I intend to defer my visit until this fellow is out of the way. It will be more convenient to carry on my courtship in his absence.”