“During our stay in Mexico,” continued Mrs. Saltillo, with something of her old precision, “I made some researches into Aztec history, a subject always deeply interesting to me, and I thought I would utilize the result by throwing it on paper.  Of course it is better fitted for a volume of reference than for a newspaper, but Enriquez thought you might want to use it for your journal.”

I knew that Enriquez had no taste for literature, and had even rather depreciated it in the old days, with his usual extravagance; but I managed to say very pleasantly that I was delighted with his suggestion and should be glad to read the manuscript.  After all, it was not improbable that Mrs. Saltillo, who was educated and intelligent, should write well, if not popularly.  “Then Enriquez does not begrudge you the time that your work takes from him,” I added laughingly.  “You seem to have occupied your honeymoon practically.”

“We quite comprehend our respective duties,” said Mrs. Saltillo dryly; “and have from the first.  We have our own lives to live, independent of my uncle and Enriquez’s father.  We have not only accepted the responsibility of our own actions, but we both feel the higher privilege of creating our own conditions without extraneous aid from our relatives.”

It struck me that this somewhat exalted statement was decidedly a pose, or a return of Urania Mannersley’s old ironical style.  I looked quietly into her brown, near-sighted eyes; but, as once before, my glance seemed to slip from their moist surface without penetrating the inner thought beneath.  “And what does Enriquez do for his part?” I asked smilingly.

I fully expected to hear that the energetic Enriquez was utilizing his peculiar tastes and experiences by horse-breaking, stock-raising, professional bull-fighting, or even horse-racing, but was quite astonished when she answered quietly:—­

“Enriquez is giving himself up to geology and practical metallurgy, with a view to scientific, purely scientific, mining.”

Enriquez and geology!  In that instant all I could remember of it were his gibes at the “geologian,” as he was wont to term Professor Dobbs, a former admirer of Miss Mannersley’s.  To add to my confusion Mrs. Saltillo at the same moment absolutely voiced my thought.

“You may remember Professor Dobbs,” she went on calmly, “one of the most eminent scientists over here, and a very old Boston friend.  He has taken Enriquez in hand.  His progress is most satisfactory; we have the greatest hopes of him.”

“And how soon do you both hope to have some practical results of his study?” I could not help asking a little mischievously; for I somehow resented the plural pronoun in her last sentence.

“Very soon,” said Mrs. Saltillo, ignoring everything but the question.  “You know Enriquez’s sanguine temperament.  Perhaps he is already given to evolving theories without a sufficient basis of fact.  Still, he has the daring of a discoverer.  His ideas of the oolitic formation are not without originality, and Professor Dobbs says that in his conception of the Silurian beach there are gleams that are distinctly precious.”