"What time is it?" asked the girl.

"It will soon be midnight. Perhaps you are not afraid, but I am."

Rosarito was trembling, and every thing about her denoted the keenest
anxiety. She lifted her eyes to heaven supplicatingly, and then turned
them on her mother with a look of the utmost terror.

"Why, what is the matter with you?"

"Did you not say it was midnight?"

"Yes."

"Then----But is it already midnight?"

Rosario made an effort to speak, then shook her head, on which the
weight of a world was pressing.

"Something is the matter with you; you have something on your mind,"
said her mother, fixing on her daughter her penetrating eyes.

"Yes--I wanted to tell you," stammered the girl, "I wanted to
say----Nothing, nothing, I will go to sleep."

"Rosario, Rosario! your mother can read your heart like an open book,"
exclaimed Dona Perfecta with severity. "You are agitated. I have told
you already that I am willing to pardon you if you will repent; if you
are a good and sensible girl."