“I would say, what if from Maritaña's own lips you heard an avowal of her affection, would you conceive yourself at liberty to redeem a contract to which you were only one party, and by mere money—I care not how large you call the sum—to reject the heart you have made your own?”
“No, no, this cannot be,” cried Cashel, struggling in a conflict of uncertainty and fear.
“I know my daughter, sir,” said Pedro, with an air of pride he well knew when and how to assume.
“If I but thought so,” muttered Cashel to himself; and low as the words were, Rica heard them.
“I ask you for nothing short of your own conviction,—the conviction of your own ears and eyes. You shall, if you please, remain concealed in her apartment while I question her on the subject of this attachment. If you ever supposed me base enough to coerce her judgment, you know her too well to believe it to be possible. But I will not insult myself by either supposition. I offer you this test of what I have said: accept it if you will, and with this condition, that you shall then be free to tear this contract, if you like, but never believe that I can barter the acknowledged affection of my child, and take money for her misery.”
Cashel was moved by the truth-like energy of the words he heard; the very aspect of emotion in one he had never seen save calm, cold, and self-possessed, had its influence on him, and he replied, “I consent.” So faintly, however, were the words uttered that he was obliged to repeat them ere they reached Don Pedro's ears.
“I will come for you after supper this evening,” said Rica. “Let me find you in the arbor at the end of the 'hacienda.' Till then, adios.” So saying, he motioned to Cashel to follow the stranger. Roland obeyed the suggestion, and they parted.
CHAPTER III. MR. SIMMS ON LIFE AT THE VILLA
He told them of men that cared not a d—n
For the law or the new police,
And had very few scruples for killing a lamb,
If they fancied they wanted the fleece.
Sir Peter's Lament