The midday meal brought her father—­still kind and affectionate, but never dropping the Spanish, nor manifesting any consciousness of her letters.  She had hopes of the period allotted to the siesta, to which custom, in old days, she had never acceded, but had always spent the interval on any special occupation—­above all, to writing for him; but he went off without any notice of her, and she was in no condition to dispense with the repose, for her frame was tired out, though her hopes and fears could not even let her dreams rest.

Then came a drive with Rosita, resplendent in French millinery, then supper; then the Opera, to which her father accompanied them, still without a word.  Another day was nearly the same, only that this time she had to do her best to explain the newest fashions in behalf of a dress of Rosita’s, then being made, and in the evening to go to a party at the Consul’s, where she met Mr. Ward, and had some talk which she might have enjoyed but for her suspense.

On the third, Rosita was made happy by unpacking an elegant little black papier mache table, a present from Miss Ponsonby.  Good Melicent! were ever two sisters-in-law more unlike?  But Lord Ormersfield had done Rosita and her husband good service.  If Aunt Melicent had first learned the real facts, her wrath would have been extreme—­a mere child, a foreigner, a Roman Catholic, a nun!  Her horror would have known no bounds, and she would, perhaps, have broken with her brother forever.  But by making the newly-married pair victims of injustice, the Earl had made the reality a relief, and Melicent had written civilly to her brother, and a sisterly sort of stiff letter to the bride—­of which the Limenian could not understand one word; so that Mary had to render it all into Spanish, even to her good aunt’s hopes that Rosita would be kind to her, and use all her influence in favour of her happiness.

Whether Rosita would have comprehended this without Mary’s blushes might be questioned, but she did say, ’Ah! yes! you were to have married the Visconde, were you not?  El Senor was so angry!  Did his father forbid when your father refused your portion?’

‘Oh no, he would receive me if I brought nothing.’

‘And you wish to marry?’ said Rosita.

‘If my father would only consent.’

‘But why did you come here then?’ said Rosita, opening her large eyes.

‘My father commanded me.’

‘England is a long way off,’ said Rosita, languidly, ’he could not have reached you there.  You would have been a great lady and noble!  How could you come away, if he would still have you?’

’Because it would have been wrong.  We could not have been happy in disobeying my father.’

’Ah! but you could have done penance.  I had many penances to do for quitting my convent; Padre Inigo was very severe, but they are over at last, and I am free for giving alms twice a week, and the Sisters have forgiven me, and send me so many silver flowers and dulces; I will show them to you some day.  Could you not have done penance?’