"Why have you come here? What do you want with me?" He did not use her name.
Agueda stopped and leaned against a tree. She put her hand within the bosom of her dress, brought forth the letter in its double paper, tied round with a little green cord, and held it out to Beltran. She did not speak.
"Very well, bring it to me," he said. He could not let go his hold on the tree, for fear of harm coming to Felisa, and he saw no reason why Agueda, having come thus far, should not cover the few steps that remained between himself and her. She pushed herself away from the tree with her hand, as if she needed such impetus, and walking unevenly, she came near to Beltran and laid the letter in his hand. "The messenger said that it was important. It was Andres who brought it," said Agueda.
"Ah! from Silencio," said Beltran, awkwardly breaking the seal, because of the necessity of holding the tree in place.
He perused the short note in silence. When he raised his eyes from the page, Agueda had turned and was walking away through the vista of young palms. Her weary and dispirited air struck him somewhat with remorse.
"Agueda," he called, "stop at the hill yonder and get some coffee and rest yourself." His words did not stay her. She turned her head, shook it gravely, and then walked onward.
Don Gil Silencio and the Señora sat within the shady corner of the veranda. In front of the Señora stood a small wicker table. Upon the table was an old silver teapot, battered in the side, whose lid had difficulty in shutting. This relic of the past had been brought from England by the old Señora when she returned from the refuge she had obtained there, in one of her periodical escapes from old Don Oviedo. The old Señora had brought back with her the fashion of afternoon tea; also some of the leaves from which that decoction is made. The teapot, as well as the traditionary fashion of tea at five o'clock, had been left as legacies to her grandson, but of the good English tea there remained not the smallest grain of dust. The old Señora had been prodigal of her tea. She had on great occasions used more than a saltspoonful of the precious leaves at a drawing, and every one knows that at that rate even two pounds of tea will not last forever.