"You give me the title of friend," he said gently. "Your father desired—"
"Yes," she interrupted him with some degree of vivacity, "I know to what you allude, cousin; my father had future plans for me, which death prevented him from realizing."
"Those projects, cousin, it depends on you alone to realize."
She seemed to hesitate for an instant or two, but then went on in a trembling voice, and with a slight pallor. "My father's wishes are commands to me, cousin. On the day when it pleases you to ask my hand, I will give it to you."
"Cousin, cousin," he exclaimed hotly, "I do not mean that. I swore to your father not only to watch over you, but to secure your happiness by all the means in my power. The hand which you are ready to give me, in obedience to your father, I will not accept unless it is at the same time accompanied by the gift of your heart: whatever may be the feelings I entertain toward you, I will never force you to contract marriage which would render you unhappy."
"Thanks, cousin," she murmured, and cast her eyes down; "you are noble and good."
The young man softly took her hand.
"Dolores," he said to her, "permit me to call you by that name, cousin, for I am your friend."
"Oh yes," she replied, feebly.
"But," he added, with hesitation, "only your friend."