"But, Señor Don Carlos," said Don Alfonso, holding the packet at arm's length, "if I give him this he will say that I am mocking him, and then they will arrest me, and——"
"When do you expect him to visit you?"
"The day after to-morrow, in the evening."
"Then the day after to-morrow in the evening he shall meet me. If he should visit you in the meantime you can easily put him off."
The second day after this, about sundown, Don Carlos Evaña and Marcelino Ponce de Leon rode side by side through the suburbs towards the Miserere.
"You have judged rightly, Carlos," said Marcelino. "Any misfortune that might befall the old man would cause her great sorrow, and I thank you for asking me to assist you in anything that may keep a sorrow from her."
"Yet she treated you very badly," said Don Carlos. "She led you to feel sure of her love, and then transferred her affections with the greatest ease to that traitor of a Spaniard."
"I do not think so, she loved me once. But her father wishes it, he never liked me, and she submits."
"It is strange, I always thought her a girl of much strength of character. Did you ever tell her that you loved her?"
"Not in so many words, but she knew it; an avowal of love needs no words. But it is now more than a year since I have had a chance of speaking with her, she shuns me. When we meet she will not let me pay her the simplest attention. She has not forgotten me, but she is trying to forget me."