‘No one shall molest you!’ exclaimed De Courcelles sternly. ‘You are my wife, Quita, and the man who injures you must answer for it to me.’
‘Ah, don’t talk nonsense!’ she said, shrinking a little from him. ‘You know, Henri, that I am not your wife.’
‘But why should you not be so, Maraquita? Why not take the bull by the horns, and let me confess everything to your father?’
‘What are you thinking of?’ she cried, in a voice of terror. ‘You would only bring down his wrath upon my head. He will never consent to my marrying you.’
‘Then marry me without his consent, Quita. Surely that should not be distasteful to you, after all that has passed between us. Come, dearest, you love me, do you not? You have so often assured me so. Why not cross with me to Santa Lucia, and we will break the news of our marriage to your parents from there. Say “Yes,” Maraquita, for the sake of our child,’ he whispered.
‘It is impossible!’ she said back again. ‘You are asking me to give up my father and mother for you. It would break their hearts. They would never speak to me again.’
‘But why not? They are wealthy, and you are their only child. They can enrich any one on whom your happiness may be placed. They would be angry at first, naturally, but they would soon come round, for they could not live without you, Maraquita. A few weeks would see us all together again.’
‘You are mistaken, Henri. My father loves me dearly, but his prejudices are very strong. Only to-night, my mother was telling me that he would never countenance my marriage to any one whom he did not consider an equal match to myself.’
‘Heavens! Maraquita! Can Mrs Courtney suspect anything?’
‘God knows! She has not actually mentioned the subject to me, but her words fell very much like a warning. Perhaps they were so. Perhaps she intended to caution me on my future conduct. She has at any rate shown me very decidedly that my father expects me to accede to the views he has formed for me.’