Cecilita could not sleep without holding one of her aunt's ears. Gonzalo often objected to this fancy, and every day he spoke of making her give it up; but his sister-in-law did not mind it, and she even bent over the pillow to indulge it. Sometimes Gonzalo fell asleep on Paulina's pillow, especially when he had been out shooting, and on waking up he found himself close to the sweet, pale face of his sister-in-law, whose wide-open eyes were fixed on space.
"What are you thinking about, bag of bones?" he asked her as his eyes met hers.
The girl collected herself with an effort, and smiled kindly.
"I don't know—nothing."
"Haven't you a lover?" he said one evening, raising her chin affectionately.
"Bah! what lovers could I have in this place?" said Cecilia, coloring, and withdrawing her face.
"You could have one in Sarrio."
"And he can't care much not to come and see me all the months that we have been here. I have already told you that I am going to remain an old maid," she added with a smile.
"That can't be," replied the young man with fervor; "it can't be. It would be a shame to poor humanity for you to remain an old maid. You were born to be married. Your chief delights are in managing the house, looking after children, sewing and dusting. You will be a perfect wife, like Luis de Leon describes. It is intolerable to think of any one who could make any man happy remaining an old maid."
We do not know what Cecilia's thoughts were just then; but they were probably something like this: "Yes; I could have made any man happy but you."