It did not, of course, occur to either Arthur or Donna Maria that they might outrun "Pepe," who was fat and indisposed to violent exertion; nor that they should find other things to talk about than the details of business; nor that the afternoon should be so marvellously beautiful as to cause them to frequently stop and admire the stretch of glittering sea beyond; nor that the roar of the waves was so deafening as to oblige them to keep so near each other for the purposes of conversation that the widow's soft breath was continually upon Arthur's cheek; nor that Donna Maria's saddle girth should become so loose that she was forced to dismount while Arthur tightened it, and that he should be obliged to lift her in his arms to restore her to her seat again. But finally, when the Point of Pines was safely rounded, and Arthur was delivering a few parting words of legal counsel, holding one of her hands in his, while with the other he was untwisting a long tress of her blown down hair, that, after buffeting his cheek into colour, had suddenly twined itself around his neck, an old-fashioned family carriage, drawn by four black mules with silver harness, passed them suddenly on the road. Donna Maria drew her head and her hand away with a quick blush and laugh, and then gaily kissed her finger-tips to the retreating carriage. Arthur laughed also--but a little foolishly--and looked as if expecting some explanation. "You should have your wits about you, sir. Did you know who that was?" Arthur sincerely confessed ignorance. He had not noticed the carriage until it had passed. "Think what you have lost! That was your fair young client." "I did not even see her," laughed Arthur. "But she saw you! She never took her eyes off you. Adios!" CHAPTER VI. THE LADY OF GRIEF. "You will not go to-day," said Father Felipe to Arthur, as he entered the Mission refectory early the next morning to breakfast. "I shall be on the road in an hour, Father," replied Arthur, gaily. "But not toward San Francisco," said the Padre. "Listen! Your wish of yesterday has been attained. You are to have your desired interview with the fair invisible. Do you comprehend? Donna Dolores has sent for you." Arthur looked up in surprise. Perhaps his face did not express as much pleasure as Father Felipe expected, who lifted his eyes to the ceiling, took a philosophical pinch of snuff, and muttered-- "_Ah, lo que es el mudo!_--Now that he has his wish--it is nothing, Mother of God!" "This is _your_ kindness, Father." "God forbid!" returned Padre Felipe, hastily. "Believe me, my son, I know nothing. When the Donna left here before the _Angelus_ yesterday, she said nothing of this. Perhaps it is the office of your friend, Mrs. Sepulvida." "Hardly, I think," said Arthur; "she was so well prepared with all the facts as to render an interview with Donna Dolores unnecessary. _Bueno_, be it so! I will go."