"I can assure you, señor," said Katie, "I do not see how you could have found any reason to hope in this case."
Lopez felt this rebuff very keenly, but kept his temper.
"I was merely speaking of my own hopes," said he, mildly, "and you certainly were far more amiable than you now are."
"I'm sure, señor, I should be sorry to be otherwise than amiable, but sleepless nights and solitary confinement must necessarily affect one's temper. I can only say I do not wish to be rude."
"Pardon me—rude? That is impossible," said Lopez, grasping eagerly at this as at some small concession. "I only want you to give me now a fair hearing. Let me say, once for all, that I loved you then, and have loved you ever since, most devotedly."
"I suppose I have to listen," said Katie, "as I am your prisoner; but I will only hint that before speaking of love it might be as well to set me free."
Lopez drew a long breath. It was hard indeed for him to keep down his anger.
"Very well," said he, taking no notice of her words. "In the midst of my hopes there came this English Ashby, and at once I felt that I was pushed into the background. I bore my disappointment as well as I could, and in addition to this I put up with things of which you never knew. That man had a most insolent manner. He was wealthy. He was purse-proud, and excited universal hate by his overbearing ways. There was always the clink of gold in his voice, and even in his step. I have even received insults from him."
"Why did you put up with insults?" asked Katie. "I thought that no Spaniard ever allowed himself to be insulted."
"For your sake," said Lopez, in a tender voice. "For your sake I endured all."