On the eventide of this day on which Don Carlos again visited the Quinta de Ponce, Dolores was seated under the front verandah of the house, holding on her knee a stout little boy, her cousin Justiniano Velasquez, who had been entrusted to her care by his mother until such time as she should leave the city and resume care of him herself. Dolores was very fond of her cousin, and was pleased to have the care of him. Her affection was fully reciprocated by the little fellow who teased her and coaxed her to let him have his own wilful way in everything, was an all day long trouble to her, and rewarded her by an unlimited amount of caresses, and by screaming with all his might if he lost sight of her for an instant when he was awake. She called him the plague of her life, and was never so happy as when she was ministering to his manifold wants.
On this evening Dolores was somewhat pale and less cheerful than was her wont, yet as Don Carlos stepped into the verandah to salute her he thought he had never before seen her looking so beautiful. There was a pensive thoughtfulness on her face not often seen there, which added an indescribable charm to the smile of welcome she bestowed upon him.
"How soon you are back," she said; "as you said your stay at your estancia was uncertain we did not expect you for a month."
"What has happened to you? You look triste, does that little rogue plague you?"
"Ah! Don Carlos, you do not know," replied Dolores, bending over the boy, and with difficulty keeping back her tears; "Marcelino is in prison, three days ago he was arrested by an order from the Viceroy and is in prison."
"Marcelino in prison!" exclaimed Evaña. "On what charge? what has he done?"
"Nothing. We know nothing of why he is in prison. Papa was here yesterday, you may imagine how angry he was, and he says all the city is indignant about it. But why he is put in prison no one knows. They went to our house and searched his room, and took away all his papers. Poor mamma, she wanted to go back to the city to see him, but papa would not let us go, and there he is with no one to speak to him, and he will think we care nothing about it."
"No, that he will not think, he knows you better."
"What a pity that you were away. Papa says that if you had been there you would have stirred up some demonstrations, and the Viceroy would have been forced to set him at liberty."