he guitar.

We had continued for some time, when Dona Dolores leaned forward and
said, "I will not pretend to be ignorant as to who you are. You desire
to speak with me; and I am willing to see you. You are welcome to come
in, with your young friend, whose voice I recognise."

Don Juan poured out his thanks, and expressed his readiness to take
advantage of the permission given him.

Dona Dolores had said nothing of Mr Laffan; perhaps she had not
perceived him, or in the dark had mistaken him for me, as I had been
concealed under the wall--although our figures were very different. At
all events, it was very evident that he would be one too many. Of this
he was perfectly well aware himself, and as we went round to the front
entrance he whispered,--"I'll go back and tell Don Ricardo that you have
the honour of an interview, and will soon return;" and without another
word he hastened along the road.

We made our way to the front gate, which was opened as we arrived by
Senora Ortes, who had been directed by her mistress to let us in.

"Dona Dolores awaits you in her sitting-room," she said; "you are
welcome."

She led the way into the house. We found Dona Dolores with a female
friend, somewhat older, seated in a well-furnished room, with a couple
of guitars on a sofa beside them. Some books were on a table, very
seldom to be seen in a lady's apartment in that country; while one of
the walls was ornamented with swords and daggers, guns and pistols--
giving a somewhat odd appearance to a lady's boudoir.

Dona Dolores looked handsomer than ever, and I could not be surprised
that she had won my friend's heart. She smiled as we approached and
saluted her. Don Juan having told her where we were staying, and a
little ordinary conversation having taken place, they both looked, I
thought, as if they wished that the other lady and I were at a distance.
We, at all events, supposing such to be the case, retired to the other
end of the room, to examine some artificial flowers, which the young
lady told me she had learned to make at the nunnery of the Encarnacion
at Popayan. She then confided to me that she had once intended to be a
nun, but, after a little experience of a conventual existence before she
had taken the vows, thought better of it, and had returned to her
friends; adding, "And perhaps some day I may accept a husband, should a
suitable one be presented to me."

While we were speaking, she saw my eye directed