She had paused in her reply to his last remark; but her hesitation, if such it might be called, was only momentary, and, before Don Felix could make it available, she resumed her interrupted speech.
“But thou mayst go, Sir,” she said, in an indignant tone. “I have no right to keep thee here, an’ it bring thee into danger.”
“How could my staying avail thee, Evaline?” replied Don Felix.
“I tell thee, Sir, thou canst go,” rejoined Evaline.
“Ay,” returned Don Felix, knitting his brows, “I hear that the nameless stranger has returned, and he, mayhap, will win from thee more gracious words.”
Evaline, without shrinking before his glance, coloured deeply at this insinuation.
“I would have thee be guarded in what thou sayest, Don Felix,” she said, angrily, “or thou mayst rue it.”
“Well, let it pass! let it pass!” answered Don Felix. “Tell me only, dost thou love him?”
“This is not to be borne,” cried Evaline. “What warrant hast thou, Sir, to ask me such a question?”
“Thy father hath promised me thy hand,” said Don Felix. “But the time presses on me now. When we meet again, we shall be more at liberty. Adieu!”