‘Well, I suppose that would come some day, in any case,’ replied his wife, ‘and there’ll be plenty of time to think of it. Sir Russell has only been in office six months, and by the time his term is ended, I don’t see why we shouldn’t visit England too, Mr Courtney. You’ve promised to take me there, times out of mind.’
‘Yes, yes! unlikelier things have happened,’ said her husband, brightening up.
‘And I should have a splendid wedding, shouldn’t I?’ mused Maraquita.
‘You should have the grandest wedding that’s ever been seen in San Diego,’ replied her mother, ‘and everybody in the island, black and white, to see it. It would be a universal holiday, and we would send for your wedding dress to Paris, Quita. Monsieur de Courcelles was telling me the other day that—’
But Mrs Courtney was summarily stopped in her recital by a burst of hysterical tears from Maraquita.
‘Oh, no! I can’t do it; I don’t like him enough,’ she sobbed. ‘He is old and ugly. I won’t marry him. Don’t say any more about it.’
Of course both her parents were full of concern for her agitation.
‘I told you how it would be!’ exclaimed the father. ‘She is far too weak to hear so exciting a topic. You should have held your tongue till she is stronger, and able to decide the matter herself. Don’t cry, my dearest child. Try and compose yourself, or I shall be obliged to summon Dr Fellows.’
‘You should have more sense,’ said her mother decidedly. ‘No one wishes you to do anything that is objectionable to you, Quita. There is nothing to cry for at having a grand proposal made you. However, let us drop the subject for to-day, and perhaps you had better lie down in your own room and have a siesta. Jessica has prepared it for you.’
The two women supported the girl between them to her sleeping-chamber, when Mrs Courtney despatched the black nurse for some iced lemonade.