We said good day, and “Mucho gracias” and sallied forth into the street once more. Not knowing where to go, nor where to find the famous pyramid, and Dick being far from well, I decided to go to the nearest place in reach. This happened to be a steep hill with a white church on the summit. It had been a beacon to us for miles in the plain as we travelled steadily towards it. Slowly we ascended by wide low stone steps, that went winding up among the vegetation and wild flowers. About halfway we suddenly heard a band of music, and it came nearer and nearer. Soon there came into view a procession of white clad sombrero’d Indians playing their instruments as they came down the winding hill steps. The pageant did not come our way, but passed in front of us, and cut down into a steep and narrow path, and were lost to view among the shrub. Taking our time (for Dick seemed weak, and our hearts were thumping somewhat, as they always do with the slightest exertion at this altitude--) we eventually reached the summit. It seemed utterly deserted. The stillness was uncanny. The church, which may be old but had a renovated and very newly whitewashed appearance, had tiled domes that were quite beautiful. Tall cypresses, as in Italy, grew on the terrace in front. There was a rampart with seats all round the terrace edge. The climb had satisfied my desire, which is always to get onto a height, when arriving in a new place, in order to survey the land and ‘place oneself’. From this church height one certainly surveyed the country for miles. Louise and I walked round and round, looking everywhere for anything that might be interpreted as a pyramid. But we never satisfied ourselves on that. It was not until we got back in the evening and read up the guide book, that I learnt that was a pyramid we were on. The pagan pyramid, dedicated to the god Quetzalcoatl, on the summit of which the Christians had built their church. While thus absorbed, in the distant view, Dick disappeared. When I looked round for him he was nowhere to be seen. I went down the steep flight of steps to the half way terrace below, and called. Presently the little figure appeared from above, and followed me down. He came to me with a pious and mysterious look. “Some day” he said, “I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing.” I said, “I must know, now, at once--do tell me....” He looked shy, and then explained that he had gone _inside_ the church. “It was quite a nice church inside--there were none of those awful figures like we’ve seen,--you know--and I said a prayer ... knelt down ... right up by the steps in front of the railing. Oh! just prayed for Teta-tee[10] that she might come back to us...!” It was so unexpected. I did not know that Dick believed in God. I did not know he wanted Margaret back with us ... but there in the stillness of the great Mexican plain, high up on the hill of a little town called Cholula, Margaret had not been forgotten. It seemed almost like a wireless from her.