A few strides of the splendid horses whirled the coach upstreet to the gateway I had just left. There the driver pulled up with a flourish, and the footmen sprang down to stand at the heads of the horses and to open the coach door, from which stepped—Medina!
It flashed upon me that this was the man to whom my lady was to be bartered. I turned on my heel to rush back and challenge him. But from the manner in which he stood to one side, I perceived he had not come alone. A moment later Don Pedro appeared in the gateway and stepped to the side of the coach, bowing profoundly. A hand was reached out to him, and from the coach descended, not the young gallant whom I looked to see, but stern-faced, gray-haired Nimesio Salcedo.
Greatly puzzled, I turned again and walked slowly to our quarters, striving to discern an opening through the meshes of intrigue in which Alisanda and I had become entangled. What could be the meaning of this visit of the Governor-General to one who I knew had reason to detest and fear him? And if, as it seemed to me Don Pedro had intimated, he intended to win over the Viceroy Iturrigaray by the offer of Alisanda's hand, why had he not already taken her to the City of Mexico, or stopped there on his way from Vera Cruz?
CHAPTER XXVII
HEART TO HEART
One result of my pondering of the tangled situation was the resolve to keep from my friend all that concerned myself alone. He had enough and to spare of anxieties and difficulties over the safety of himself and his men, without becoming involved in my private affairs. At the least, his concern for my safety and happiness would have tended to interfere with the observations and notes which we hoped would be of such great value to our country.
The following morning being Sunday, I went early to the Parroquia, thinking to visit Father Rocus, should I fail to meet Alisanda again. This last was barely within the bounds of my fondest expectations, and I was accordingly more grieved than surprised when she failed to appear. As I was going out, a few minutes before the close of the service, a rather well-dressed woman in the archway mumbled an appeal for alms.
Struck by her lack of dirt and tatters, I stopped. She repeated her appeal, this time in a clear tone, though without opening the veiling folds of her rebozo. It seemed to me I recognized the voice of Chita. At once I held out a coin to her. In reaching for it, she covered my hand with the edge of her rebozo, beneath which I felt a note being slipped into my palm.
She turned away, with a shrill blessing upon the generous Inglese, while I dropped my half-closed hand to my side, thrust it into my pocket and left the note, to draw out a copper for the foremost of the wretched leprosos who came flocking about the rich foreigner. This time I was provided with a quantity of the smallest coins of the realm, and scattered two or three handfuls to right and left. While the beggars swarmed after the coppers like a flock of fowls over their grain, I slipped around the nearest corner of the church to read my precious note. It was short but full of promise:—