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Updated: June 21, 2025
One of the party was no other than Dolores Mohun. She had been very happy with her father for three years.
There were two candles burning low on a little black table near my head. Enrico, with his white beard and zealous eyes, was bending over my couch, while a chair, on high runners, rocked empty behind him. I stared. "Señor, the night is far advanced," he said soothingly, "and Dolores, my wife, watches over Dona Seraphina's slumbers, on the other side of this wall."
She listened by the first window, and by the second and third, and at the door, and then beyond, till she came to the last. There were voices there, and her heart beat quickly for a moment. It was impossible to distinguish the words that were spoken, through the closed window and the heavy curtains, but the mere tones told her that Don John and Dolores were there together.
Dolores, of course, that witch who had given love-philters to both her boys otherwise, why were they always following round after her as if they didn't dare say their soul was their own? The Rector stuck to the teamster's house as if the poor fool thought he had some business there! Didn't he know, idiot, that Dolores was for the other one?
Going or staying, Milo remains thy bodyguard. Pardon if I offended thee; thy father desired what I have told thee. But the ship. This evening, at sundown, a sail leaped in sight beyond the Tongue." "This evening! And ye said no word of it?" cried Dolores, blazing with fresh anger. She leaned forward in her chair as if crouching for a spring. "It passed as swiftly as it appeared, Sultana.
As soon as it was over, it began again, with little change, save that it grew more distinct, till she could see Don John's white face in the moonlight as he lay dead on the pavement of the corridor. It became intolerable at last, and she slowly raised one hand and covered her eyes to shut out the sight. "Listen," said Inez, as Dolores stirred. "I have been thinking.
As night was coming on, the priest and the doctor recommended that I go to board at the house of the Sacristana, as she had a room vacant, which had formerly been occupied by a notary. Dolores, my landlady and mistress of the Sacristy, was an agreeable, exceedingly energetic, exceedingly hard-working woman, who was a pronounced conservative. I have met few women as good as she.
As he looked upon this beautiful young girl who confronted death so calmly and serenely, the priest closed his book and said, in a voice trembling with compassion: "What! are you, too, a victim for the guillotine? You cannot be a conspirator. Do these wretches respect nothing?" "I am glad to die," Dolores said, simply. Did he comprehend that this resignation concealed some great sacrifice?
She came into Silverton to see her old acquaintance, and looked older and more commonplace than Dolores could have thought possible, and her talk was no longer of books and romances, but of smoking chimneys, cross landlords, and troublesome cooks, and the wicked neglects of her vicar's and her squire's wife.
Dolores afterwards thought how grand it would have been to have replied, 'Dolores Mohun will never be intimidated; but the fact was that her spirit did quail at the thought of the tortures which the two boys might inflict on her if Mysie abandoned her to their mercy, and she was relieved, as well as surprised to find that her offence was condoned, and she was treated as if nothing had happened.
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