"How romantic!" said Don Pedro, laughing.
"Laugh at me! Mock me!" she replied, her voice trembling. "Shall I confess everything, father?"
"Speak confidently, dearest child."
"I will. I believe this man, whom I thought I loved, will bring evil upon me."
"Child," replied Don Pedro, kissing her forehead, "what ill could he do you?"
"Father, I cannot tell; but I dread it."
"Do you wish me to break with him, and not to admit him again?"
"Heaven forbid! It would certainly hasten the misfortune that threatens me."
"Pooh! you are a spoilt child! You grow whimsical, and amuse yourself by creating phantoms. All these fears and imaginary presentiments spring from your love for your cousin. The only way to restore your tranquillity is to marry you to him as soon as possible; and be sure, my dear, that is what I intend to do."
Doña Hermosa shook her head sorrowfully, and cast down her eyes, but she made no reply: she felt that her father had completely misunderstood her meaning, and that any attempt to bring him over to her wishes would be vain.