A knock interrupted her musing. She kept perfectly quiet. Again, the knock, a little louder, a little more insistent. She snuggled closer into the chair. Suddenly the thought came to her that it might be Farquharson with some message of importance. She quickly unlocked the door.
"Señora Valentino, may I come in? The peona Lupincha told me I would find you here."
"Certainly, Captain Morando, come in. My friends in the castle are variously occupying themselves till the great moment strikes. I," looking around, "chose to come off here by myself," her manner charmingly cordial.
The señora was again in her chair. The comandante sat opposite. There was silence, each seeming to find nothing to say to the other.
Under the firelight the doña appeared more beautiful than ever, her form unusually petite and girlish. To the soldier she had been a piece of exquisite workmanship, cameo-cut, a rare jewel to be admired. To-day she was this, plus woman's sweetness and gentleness. His heart gave an appreciative throb.
"Silvia," abruptly, "will you be my wife?"
She flashed her eyes at him. "Captain, it is curious, isn't it? about most people. They roll along in their groove, at about the same speed, and reach a certain point at a certain time, regularly enough. Have you ever thought of it?"
"Well, no—or, perhaps, yes."
"In the old stories the chapters end with the proposal, the puppets are disposed of, the book closed. You have, then, reached this point?"
"But, Silvia, you and I have been so frank that nothing preliminary seemed left for me to say—if that is what you mean—so I asked the question as I did. I vow to you by my manhood——"