"Señor!"
"Look at me."
"Si, señor."
Rita had been looking at him all along fixedly enough, but at this invitation she threw additional earnestness into the deep glance of her bold, dark eyes.
"You see what I am, Rita, my dear. I am a prisoner—in grief, in despair. Now, if any one would help me, I could do very much for that one."
"You are a gran' nobile?" said Rita, in an inquiring tone.
"Oh yes," said Russell, in his large way; "and, what's more, I can make you happy for the rest of your life. I like you, Rita. I'm quite fond of you. You're an uncommonly pretty woman."
Saying this, Russell took Rita's hand and pressed it with much emphasis. Now, the interpretation which Rita put upon these words and this action was very different from what Russell intended. The benignant Russell merely wished to impress upon Rita's mind that he had very friendly feelings toward her, and that, if she would help him, he was in a position to reward her handsomely. He didn't want to name any sum. He wished, for obvious reasons, to leave the amount unsettled. But Rita understood it differently. Being of a sentimental turn, she regarded this as a sort of declaration of love—in fact, almost an offer of marriage—and, if not so altogether, at least an approach to it. Still, she was a shrewd woman, and waited until Russell had explained himself further.
Russell observed her silence, and was quite satisfied. It showed proper caution, and caution was an excellent quality in one whom he wished to have for a helper in his need. So he went on in the same way, still holding Rita's hand.
"You are so pretty, Rita, my dear, I swear I never before saw such a pretty woman. This isn't the place for you. You must get out of this; and if you will only go away with me, why, there's nothing that I wouldn't do for you. When I like a person, I'm ready to do anything for them. And the first moment I saw you, I said to myself, 'There's the woman for you!'"