Mercedes might be only a messenger? The note might have been from
Dolores--the guarded Dolores, who dared not go out alone?
The sisters might be _confidantes_--a thing not uncommon in Mexico, or
even in England? Dolores, threatened with a cloister, might have no
other means of corresponding with her "querido Francisco?"
This view of the case was more pleasing than probable.
It might have been both, but for my knowledge of "society" as it exists
in the City of the Angels. From the insight I had obtained, I could too
readily believe, that the handsome Captain Moreno was _playing false
with a pair of sisters_!
Only for an instant was I permitted to indulge in the unworthy
suspicion.
But the certainty that succeeded it, was equally painful to reflect
upon: for I left the Alameda with the knowledge that Francisco Moreno
had one love; and she the lady who had driven past in her _carretela_!
I obtained the information through a dialogue heard accidentally behind
me.
Two men, whom I had not noticed before, had been sharing with me the
shade of the pepper-tree. One was plainly a Poblano; the other, by his
dress, might have passed for a haciendado of the _tierra caliente_--
perhaps a "Yucateco" on his way to the capital. Small as was the note
surreptitiously delivered, and rapid its transition from hand to hand--
both these men had observed the little episode.
The Poblano seemed to treat it as a thing of course. It caused surprise
to the stranger; whose habiliments, though not without some richness,
scarce concealed an air of rusticity.
"Who is she?" inquired the astonished provincial.
"The daughter of one of our _ricos_" replied the Poblano. "His name is
Don Eusebio Villa-Senor. No doubt you have heard of him?"
"Oh, yes. We know him in Yucatan. He's got a sugar estate near Sisal;
though he don't come much among us. But who's the fortunate individual
so likely to become proprietor of that pretty plantation? Such an
intelligent fellow would make it pay; which, _por Dios_! is more than I
can do with mine."
"Doubtful enough whether captain Moreno could do so either--if he had
the chance of becoming its owner. By all accounts he's not much given
to accumulating cash--unless over the _monte_ table. Independently of
that, he's not likely to come in for any property belonging to Don
Eusebio Villa-Senor."
"Well, without knowing much of your city habits," remarked the Yucateco,
"I'd say he has a fair chance of becoming the owner of Don Eusebio's
daughter. A Campeachy girl who'd do, what she has just done, would be
considered as marked for matrimony."
"Ah!" rejoined the denizen of the angelic city, "you Yucatecos are a
simple people: you leave your _muchachas_ free to do as they choose. In
Puebla, if they don't obey the paternal mandate, they are inclosed
within convents--of which we have no less than a dozen in our sainted
city. I've heard say, that such is to be the fate of Dolores
Villa-Senor--if she insist on marrying the man to whom you have just
seen her handing that pretty epistle."
"Dolores Villa-Senor?" I asked, springing forward, and rudely taking
part in a conversation that so fearfully interested me.
"_Dolores_ Villa-Senor? Do I understand you to say that _Dolores_ is
the name of the lady just gone past in the carretela?"
"_Si senor--ciertamente_!" responded the Poblano, who must have supposed
me insane, "Dolores Villa-Senor; or Lola, if you prefer it short: that
is the lady's name. _Carrambo_! what is there strange about it? Every
_chiquitito_ in the streets of Puebla knows _her_."
My tongue was stopped. I made no further inquiry. I had heard enough
to tell me I had been chicaned.
She who had passed was the woman I loved--the same who had invited me to
the Alameda. There could be no mistake about that, nor aught else--only
that her name was _Dolores_, and _not Mercedes_!