Vengo a tu ventana para decirte mi amore!
The padre, pipe in mouth, had been watching the arrival from his own door, but he drew nearer, and smiled grimly at Doña Maria as he interrupted the young man.
"Not quite on the instant, Don Rafael," he remarked. "The Doña Raquel is well on her way to San Joaquin ranch with Doña Ana Mendez. They rode good horses, and they started this evening, a few minutes before my own return."
The child in Rafael's arms uttered a little cry. He had suddenly gripped her very tightly indeed, and a strange Spanish oath broke from his lips. The priest smiled, and the florid face of Don Eduardo flushed angrily.
"You--you sent Victorio Lopez--" he began, but Rafael gave him one silencing look, and stepped forward, offering his hand to Doña Maria.
"Will you honor my house by accepting it during your stay, señora?" he asked, smilingly. "My wife has not received the message that you would arrive this week. Sickness at the ranch, or some accident, has no doubt called the Doña Ana there, and Raquel would not let her go alone. But our house and my service are at your feet. Will you enter?"
There was not a moment's hesitation on the part of Doña Maria. Let her English husband feel as he might, she meant to enter the doors where only the most exclusive had been entertained, since the day of the new chatelaine had dawned. Raquel Estevan de Arteaga was too well bred to make a scene when she returned and found them there, and Doña Maria had too much of the blood of Mexican gamblers in her veins not to be willing to take all chances when she wanted a thing very much.
As to the fact that her host and her charmingly troublesome guest would be thrown together even more than in the south, it did not trouble her in the least. Even the bishop could not blame her for what occurred in the house of Raquel Arteaga! Let that lady stay at home and guard her own husband. And if she failed,--well, it might be well to have some of that cold, Indian-like pride of hers lowered.
The Doña Angela said nothing, only smiled a little, and pretended to understand none of the Spanish spoken, but the padre, watching her wide childish blue eyes, and her rosebud of a mouth, noticed also the one quick birdlike glance she flung toward Rafael, and felt, like Doña Maria, that the stubborn pride of Raquel Arteaga was at last to be lowered a little. She had been as an eagle swimming in the blue above all their heads, but this petite, golden-headed ladybird would sip more of honey from the blossoms of life, and touch more closely an Arteaga!