‘Do you mean to tell me, then, that she is favourably disposed towards me?’ inquired the Governor excitedly.
It is true that he was a Governor, and would perhaps have been somewhat surprised at any woman in San Diego refusing his suit. But at the same time he was fifty years of age, stout, bald, and past the age of romance, and it was enough to make any such man excited, to hear that a pure and lovely girl of eighteen was ready and eager to fly into his arms. He was quite aware of the value of the position he had to offer to the planter’s daughter, but he was conceited enough to be gulled into the belief that she could actually fall in love with him, more than with the advantages which a marriage with him would entail. His rosy face became rubicund with expectant pleasure, and he already saw himself with the most beautiful woman in San Diego folded in his embrace.
‘Favourably disposed!’ echoed Mrs Courtney. ‘My dear Sir Russell, that is not the word! Maraquita is overpowered by the preference you have shown towards her, only too shy to offer you her timid girlish love in return. She is so afraid she can give you nothing worth the having in exchange for your noble proposal to make her your wife.’
‘If she will give me herself, it is all I ask,’ returned the Governor. ‘And now, tell me, may I see her, and plead my cause in person?’
‘Oh, Sir Russell, one moment!’ cried Mrs Courtney, hurriedly. ‘Let Mr Courtney offer you some refreshment, whilst I prepare our sweet girl for your visit. You do not know how shy and sensitive she is. The very mention of marriage makes her blush. Let me go to my child, and when she is calm enough to receive you, I will return and tell you so.’
‘As you please, my dear madam, but don’t try my patience too far. Mr Courtney and I will have a cigar together, and talk over our plans for the future, whilst you are gone.’ And with a courtly bow to his hostess, Sir Russell let her leave the room.
Mrs Courtney hastened at once to Maraquita’s side. Hastened is not exactly the word for the ungraceful waddle which she used when she wished to expedite her footsteps, but she walked as fast as her unwieldy form would permit her, to the shady spot where Quita’s hammock swung under the orange trees, and having dismissed Jessica to the house, she entered at once upon her subject.
‘Quita, my darling, Sir Russell Johnstone has come for your answer to his proposal.’
She was clever in her own way, this half-educated, half-bred Spanish woman. She knew that if she gave Quita time to reflect, she would probably think of a way out of the dilemma in which she found herself, or consult her lover, and be persuaded perhaps to elope with him, and ruin her prospects for ever. She had read enough of her daughter’s mind on the first day she returned home, to see that all her inclinations were opposed to marrying Sir Russell Johnstone, and if she were persuaded to consent to it, it must be through finesse, or an appeal to her ambition. What Mrs Courtney wanted now, was to hurry Maraquita into accepting the Governor’s proposal, and make her so far commit herself that she could not back out of it afterwards. And she had good materials to work upon, for Maraquita was a youthful copy of her mother, as vain, and selfish, and indolent, and heartless, and as fond of luxuries and the good things of this life. But she was considerably startled at hearing she had to make up her mind so soon, and her large dark eyes—so like those of a deer—opened wide with consternation and alarm.
‘Oh, mother! Surely I need not give him an answer to-day. It is so very soon. I have had no time to think about it.’