Only to-day the party--that is to say, Martiarena, the
Mother Superior and Buelna--left for Santa Teresa, and at midnight of
this very night Buelna takes the veil. You know your own heart, Senor
Felipe. Go your way."
"But not _till_ midnight!" cried Felipe.
"What? I do not understand."
"She will not take the veil till midnight."
"No, not till then."
"Rafael," cried Felipe, "ask me no questions now. Only _believe_ me. I
always have and always will love Buelna. I swear it. I can stop this
yet; only once let me reach her in time. Trust me. Ah, for this once
trust me, you who have known me since I was a lad."
He held out his hand. The other for a moment hesitated, then impulsively
clasped it in his own.
"_Bueno_, I trust you then. Yet I warn you not to fool me twice."
"Good," returned Felipe. "And now _adios_. Unless I bring her back with
me you'll never see me again."
"But, Felipe, lad, where away now?"
"To Santa Teresa."
"You are mad. Do you fancy you can reach it before midnight?" insisted
the _major-domo_.
"I _will_, Rafael; I _will_."
"Then Heaven be with you."
But the old fellow's words were lost in a wild clatter of hoofs, as
Felipe swung his pony around and drove home the spurs. Through the night
came back a cry already faint:
"_Adios, adios_."
"_Adios_, Felipe," murmured the old man as he stood bewildered in the
doorway, "and your good angel speed you now.
Pages:
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189