Nocobotha did not understand her.
"You had no rival—you had scarce left the house ere I confessed to my father that I did not love Don Sylvio, and would not marry him."
"O Heavens!" the young man exclaimed sorrowfully.
"Reassure yourself, the misfortune is repaired; Don Sylvio is not dead."
"Who told you so?"
"I know it, I know it so well that Don Sylvio, torn from Pincheira's hands by my orders, is at this moment at the Estancia de San Julian, whence he will shortly set out for Buenos Aires."
"Can I—"
"That is not all. I made my father understand toward whom my heart turned, and whose love it confided in, and my father, who has never been able to refuse me anything, permitted me to go and join the man whom I prefer."
She gave Don Torribio a glance full of love, looked down and blushed. A thousand contradictory feelings were contending in Nocobotha's heart, for he did not dare believe that which rendered him so happy; a doubt remained, a cruel doubt—suppose she were trifling with him?
"What!" he said, "You love me?"