So silently had this movement been executed that the lady did not perceive her new neighbour until a slight "nudge" upon the elbow caused her to start and look round. A gleam of satisfaction lit up her features, though her lips continued to repeat the prayer, as if nothing had happened. After a while came the cue for adopting the pose of rest, and then the two kneeling figures--senorita and poblana--dropped towards each other, so that their arms touched. A moment later and two hands became uncovered--one a little brown-skinned paw from under the reboso--the other, a delicate arrangement of white and jewelled fingers, from the manta. They came in contact as if by a mutual understanding, and, though they were _en rapport_ but a half-second, a close observer might have noticed a small roll of paper passed from one to the other--from the brown fingers to the white ones! It would have required a close observer to have noticed this manoeuvre, for so adroitly was it executed that none of those kneeling around, either in front or rear, saw anything amiss. The two hands again disappeared under their respective covers; the little bell tinkled, and both senora and poblana once more shot into an upright position, and, with most devout looks, repeated the prayers of the misa. When the "oracion" was over, and while sprinkling themselves at the sacred fount, a few hurried words passed between them; but they went out of the church separately, and walked off in separate directions. The poblana hastened across the square, and disappeared into a narrow street. The senora walked proudly back to the mansion whence she had come, her countenance radiant with joyful anticipation. As soon as she had entered the house she proceeded directly to her own chamber, and, opening the little folded slip of paper, read:-- "Querida Catalina!--You have made me happy. But an hour ago I was the most wretched of men. I have lost my sister, and I feared your esteem. Both are restored to me. My sister is by my side, and the gem that sparkles on my finger tells me that even calumny has failed to rob me of your friendship--your love. _You_ do not deem me an assassin. No; nor am I one. I have been an avenger, but no assassin. You shall know all--the fearful plot of which I and mine have been the victims. It is scarce credible--so great is its atrocity! I am indeed its victim. I can no more show myself in the settlement. I am henceforth to be hunted like the wolf, and treated as one, if captured. I care not for that, so long as I know that you are not among my enemies. "But for you I should go far hence. I cannot leave you. I would sooner risk life every hour in the day, than exile myself from the spot where you dwell--you, the only being I can ever love. "I have kissed the gem a hundred times. In life, the sweet token can never part from me.