"Coronado, you don't know how sorry I am to grieve you so," cried the girl, almost sobbing. "It seems, too, as if I were ungrateful. I can only beg your pardon for it, and pray that Heaven will reward you."
"Heaven!" he returned impatiently. "You are my heaven. You are the only heaven that I know."
"Oh, Coronado! Don't say that. I am a poor, sinful, unworthy creature. Perhaps I could not make any one happy long. Believe me, Coronado, I am not worthy to be loved as you love me."
"You are!" he said, turning on her passionately and advancing close to her. "You are worthy of my life-long love, and you shall have it. You shall have it, whether you wish it or not. You shall not escape it. I will pursue you with it wherever you go and as long as you live."
"Oh! You frighten me. Coronado, I beg of you not to talk to me in that way. I am afraid of you."
"What is the cause of this?" he demanded, hoping to daunt her into submission. "There is something in my way. What is it? Who is it?"
Clara's paleness turned in an instant to scarlet.
"Who is it?" he went on, his voice suddenly becoming hoarse with excitement. "It is some one. Is it this American? This boy of a lieutenant?"
Clara, trembling with an agitation which was only in part dismay, remained speechless.
"Is it?" he persisted, attempting to seize her hands and looking her fiercely in the eyes. "Is it?"