"The Señor knows the hacienda of Palmacristi?" began Uncle Adan, more as a preface than as a question.
Don Beltran laughed. He had known the hacienda of Palmacristi as long as he had known anything; he had known the old Don Gil well, who, indeed, had been a distant relative of his own, and he had seen the young Don Gil grow up to manhood. Beltran was ten years older than Silencio. He had often envied the young fellow his independence and freedom in the way of money. He thought him hot-headed and likely to get into trouble some day, and now, from Uncle Adan's account, that day had arrived. He did not think it necessary to say this; Adan knew it as well as he.
"What has he been doing now?" asked Don Beltran.
"Only getting married, Señor," answered the old capitas.
"I did not dream that he would do anything so sensible," said Don Beltran, with a glance at Agueda.
Agueda bent her eyes low and blushed. How dear it was of him to think of her first of all, and always in that connection. But what was the haste? He loved her, of that she was sure. He would always love her. When he was ready, she would be, but it was not a pressing matter.
"The Señor E'cobeda does not think it so sensible, Señor Don Beltran."
"Aaaah! it was the little Señorita Raquel, then. Wise man, wise man!"—Agueda looked up suddenly—"to marry the girl of his choice. But how did he get her, Adan? It was only three weeks ago that he wrote me a line, begging that I would aid him in an effort to carry her off."
"And the Señor answered—?"