“Then you will remain, sir,” said Roland, firmly. “Remain, and listen to what this gentleman has so menacingly alluded. Here it is: it is the promise, given under my hand, that I will espouse the daughter of a certain Don Pedro Rica, to whom, in the date herein annexed, I have been this day betrothed; or, in forfeiture of such pledge, pay down the sum of seventy thousand dollars, thereby obtaining a full release from the conditions of the contract. It was the rash pledge of a young and thoughtless boy, with regard to one who neither accepted his affection nor acknowledged the contract. I do not say this to absolve myself from the forfeiture, which I am ready to acquit this hour; I speak of it, that, as a man of honor, I may not seem to pay a debt of feeling by a check on my banker.”
“But this betrothal,” said Tiernay,—“what does it imply?”
“It is a ceremony common enough in Old Spain and her once colonies, and is simply the recognition of a private promise of marriage.”
“You have forgotten two circumstances, sir,” said Hoare, whose eyes never quitted Cashel's face.
“Which are they?”
“One is, that this contract should be either fulfilled, or the forfeit paid, within two years,—twenty-one months of which have already expired.”
“True!—and the other condition?”
“That the acceptance or refusal of the forfeit is optional with Don Pedro, who may, at his pleasure, select which clause he likes,—the marriage or the penalty.”
“I never acknowledged this interpretation of the document,” said Cashel, reddening. “I know Don Pedro did, and there we were at issue. Methinks it were somewhat hard to compel a marriage distasteful to both parties, and only to suit the speculations of a ruined adventurer.”
“I hope, sir, the likelihood of future relationship will moderate the warmth of your language.”