so, he did not say so, being busy with Eulalia. They were talking Chinese metaphysics, a pleasant subject to discuss with a pretty girl well up in the intricacies thereof. As to Jack and his angel!
“Querida!” murmured Dolores, slipping her hand into that of her lover’s under cover of the darkness; “how lonely has my heart been without thee.”
“Angelito,” replied Jack, who was an adept at saying pretty things in Spanish; “I left behind my heart when I departed, and it has drawn me back to your side.”
“Alas! How long will we be together, Juan? I am afraid of this war; should Don Hypolito conquer!” Here she paused and slightly shuddered.
“He shall not conquer, cara. What can he do with a few adherents against the power of the Government?”
“Still, the Indians——”
“You are afraid they will join with him. To what end? Xuarez cannot restore the worship of the Chalchuih Tlatonac.”
“Juan!” said Dolores, anxiously, “it is not of Xuarez I am so much afraid as of the Indians. If there is a war, they may carry me off.”
“Carry you off!” repeated Jack, in a puzzled tone of voice. “Why, how could they do that? and for what reason?”
“They could do it easily by some subtle device; bolts and bars and walled towns are nothing to them when they set their hearts on anything. And they would carry me away because I am the guardian of the Chalchuih Tlatonac.”
“Who told you all this?”
“Cocom.”
“But he does not worship the opal or the old gods. He is a devout Catholic.”
“So says Padre Ignatius; but I think he is one of those who go to the forest sanctuary. He knows much.”
“And says nothing. It is death for him to betray the secrets of that Aztec worship.”
“Listen, Juan, alma de mi alma. The life of Cocom was saved by my uncle Miguel, and with him gratitude is more powerful than religion. He told me while you were away, that the opal has prophesied war, and on that account the Indians are alarmed for me. Should there be no guardian of the opal, Huitzilopochtli will be angry, and lest I should be killed in the war as soon as the revolt takes place, the Indians will carry me for safety into the heart of the country—into those trackless forest depths more profound than the sea.”
“They shall never do so while I am at hand,” said Jack, fiercely; “but I don’t believe this story of Cocom’s. You cannot be in such danger.”
“I am afraid it is true; besides, that is not the only danger—Don Hypolito!”
“What of him?”
“He wishes to marry me, Juan.”
Duval laughed softly, and pressed the little hand, that lay within his own.
“You talk ancient history, querida; I thought we settled that I was to be the favoured one.”
“It is true! ah, yes, thee alone do I love,” whispered Dolores, tenderly; “but when you departed, Juan, he came to me, this Don Hypolito, and spoke of love.”
“Confound his impudence!” muttered Jack, in English.
“What say you, Juan? Oh, it was terrible! He said, if I became not his wife, that he would plunge the country into war. I did not believe that he could do so or would dare to do so. I refused. Then he spoke of my love for you, and swore to kill you.”
“He’ll have to catch me first, Dolores.”
“‘There will be war,’ said this terrible one, ‘and I will tear down the walls of Tlatonac to seize you. This Americano will I slay and give his body to the dogs.’”
“All idle talk, mi cara,” said Duval, scornfully; “I can protect myself and you. What more did he say?”
“Little more; but it was the same kind of talk. When he departed, I spoke to my uncle; but Don Hypolito had by that time gone to Acauhtzin.”
“Was Don Miguel angry?”
“Very angry! But he could do nothing. Don Hypolito was far away on the waters.”
“And will return with fire and blood,” said Jack, gloomily; “but never fear, Dolores. My friends and myself will protect you from this insolent one. If we are conquered, we shall fly to my own land in the vessel of Don Felipe!”
“But what of Eulalia?”
“Ah!” replied her lover, waggishly; “I think you can trust Don Felipe to look after Eulalia.”
“Do you think there will be a war, Juan?”
“It looks like it. However, we shall know for certain when the messenger comes back from Acauhtzin.”
“Yes; my uncle told me the boat had gone up to-day to bid the fleet return.”
“A wild-goose chase only,” thought Jack, but held his peace, lest he should alarm Dolores.
Fearful of attracting her uncle’s attention by speaking too much to Jack, the Spanish beauty crossed over to where Philip and Eulalia were sitting.
“Señor Felipe!” said Dolores, gaily, “wherefore do you laugh?”
“It is at Don Pedro and my good aunt,” replied Eulalia, before Philip could speak. “Behold them, Dolores, making signs like wooden puppets.”
Dolores turned her eyes towards the couple leaning over the azotea railing, and began to laugh also. Then Jack came over and demanded to be informed of the joke. He was speedily informed of the performance going on above; so that the two actors had quite an audience, although they knew it not. Indeed the affair was sufficiently grotesque. It was like a game of dumb crambo, as Peter acted a word, and the old lady tried to guess his meaning.
For instance, wishing to tell her how he captured butterflies, Peter wagged his hands in the air to indicate the flight of insects, then struck at a phantom beetle with an imaginary net.
“Pajaros!” guessed Doña Serafina, wrongly. Peter did not know this was the Spanish for ‘birds,’ and thought she had caught his meaning. The lady thought so too, and was delighted with her own perspicuity.
“Bueno, Señor! You catch birds! To eat?”
She imitated eating, whereon Peter shook his head though he was not quite sure if the Cholacacans did not eat beetles. Foreigners had so many queer customs.
Seeing Peter misunderstood, Doña Serafina skipped lightly across the azotea, flapping her arms, and singing. Then she turned towards the doctor, and nodded encouragingly.
“Birds!” she said, confidently. “You eat them?”
Now Peter knew that ‘comida’ meant eating; but quite certain that Doña Serafina did
