"Go where?"
"Away from Madrigal--anywhere--and at once; tomorrow at latest."
And then, seeing the look of horror in her face, "What else, what
else?" he added, impatiently. "This meddlesome provincial may be
stirring up trouble already."
She fought down her emotion. "I . . . I shall see him before he
goes?" she begged.
"I don't know. It may not be wise. I must consider." He flung
away in deepest perturbation, leaving her with a sense that life
was slipping from her.
That late September evening, as she sat stricken in her room,
hoping against hope for at least another glimpse of him, Dona
Maria de Grado brought word that Espinosa was even then in the
convent in Frey Miguel's cell. Fearful lest he should be smuggled
thence without her seeing him, And careless of the impropriety of
the hour--it was already eight o'clock and dusk was falling--she
at once dispatched Roderos to the friar, bidding him bring
Espinosa to her in the parlour.
The friar obeyed, and the lovers--they were no less by now--came
face to face in anguish.
"My lord, my lord," she cried, casting all prudence to the winds,
"what is decided?"
"That I leave in the morning," he answered.
"To go where?" She was distraught.
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