‘I don’t know what you are talking about, mamma,’ replied Quita uneasily. ‘All I have to think about now, I suppose, is whether I shall marry Sir Russell Johnstone or not.’
‘My dear girl, you make me miserable by even suggesting a doubt on the subject. I am sure of one thing,—if you don’t marry him, you will never cease to reproach yourself, and be ready to die of envy at seeing Mademoiselle Julie Latreille or one of the other San Diego belles in your place.’
‘Julie Latreille!’ cried Maraquita. ‘Why, she can’t hold a candle to me! Every one said so at the last regimental ball.’
‘Of course she can’t, dear, and she wouldn’t know how to conduct herself as the Governor’s lady either. But when a man is disappointed in one direction, he is apt to try and console himself in another. And Sir Russell is very much in love with you, Maraquita; I never saw a man more so.’
‘Well, he won’t expect me to be in love with him, I hope.’
‘What a silly thing to say, my dear! If you will only consent to marry him, I’ll guarantee that Sir Russell will be satisfied with anything you may choose to give him. Of course, you will be very grateful to him, and kind and affectionate and all that,’ continued Mrs Courtney as an afterthought; ‘but it is quite unnecessary that any young lady should profess to be in love with her husband. You can leave all that to the men.’
Maraquita sighed, and said nothing. She possessed a very warm temperament, like most people born of a mixture of bloods, and the prospect of being tied to a man for whom she did not care, was most displeasing to her. Her thoughts reverted to another lover, whom a marriage with the Governor would force her to give up, and the tears gathered in her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks.
‘Come, my dear,’ exclaimed her mother hastily, as she watched the signs of her emotion, ‘we will drop this subject for to-day, and you must try and go to sleep. In a short time you will see all the advantages of Sir Russell’s proposal, and be very grateful for them. But at present you are weak, and must not think too much. I will leave you alone now, and Jessica shall fan you to sleep.’
But it was very little sleep that visited Maraquita’s eyes that day, and it was in vain that old Jessica closed the green jalousies over her windows, and brought her cooling drinks, and fanned her incessantly to keep off the flies. Quita’s large dark eyes were fixed upon space, whilst she revolved the question in her mind whether she could possibly marry Sir Russell Johnstone, and always came back to the conclusion that it was impossible. When night arrived, her mother was so distressed to find the symptoms of fever strong upon her, that she wanted to send at once for Dr Fellows, but Quita entreated her not to do so.
‘Mamma, dear, let me have my own way, and I shall be all right in the morning. Let me sleep quite alone. Jessica fidgets me. She jumps up twenty times in the night to see if I am asleep or want anything, and when she sleeps herself she snores. She is a good old creature, but I’d rather be left to myself.’