"You know how I love you, my child," Doña Emilia continued directly; "so do not try to thwart what I do, as you are well aware I have but one object, your happiness, so let me act as I think proper."
"My dear mother!" the young lady said affectionately.
"Yes," Doña Emilia replied with a cold smile, "I am your dear mother when I yield to your importunities."
"Oh, do not say that, mother! You know what deep love I have for you."
"Yes I know it, and I know too that I do not alone occupy your heart."
Doña Diana turned her head away to hide the blush that suffused her face at this remark; but her mother did not notice this emotion, and continued, as if speaking to herself, instead of addressing her daughter—
"But why should I complain? Ought it not always to be so? Woman is born to love, as the bird is to fly in the air. Love, my poor, dear child; for love constitutes a woman's entire life, for it enables her to learn joy and sorrow."
Her voice gradually grew weaker, and these words were spoken indistinctly. There was a rather long silence, which the girl did not venture to disturb by an indiscreet question. Respecting the sorrowful reverie into which her mother had fallen, her eyes were fixed more attentively on the courtyard. All at once she started.
"Ah!" she said, at once glad and troubled, "Here is Don Melchior."
"What did you say, Niña?" her mother asked, raising her head eagerly. "I think you mentioned the name of Don Melchior?"