"Not so, señorita. They would have to stand together and face the governor, tell him their intentions. It was a lark with them, and I doubt whether they take it seriously enough to stand by me now. It is not to be expected. I fight it out alone!"
"Not alone, señor, when I am by your side!"
He clasped her in his arms, pressed her to him.
"I would we might have our chance," he said. "But it would be folly for you to let my disaster influence your life. You never have seen my face even, señorita. You could forget me. You could walk from this place and surrender, send word to Don Diego Vega that you will become his bride, and the governor then would be forced to release you and clear your parents of all blame."
"Ah, señor—"
"Think, señorita! Think what it would mean! His excellency would not dare stand an instant against a Vega. Your parents would have their lands restored. You would be the bride of the richest young man in the country! You would have everything to make you happy—"
"Everything except love, señor, and without love the rest is as naught!"
"Think, señorita, and decide for once and all! You have but a moment now!"
"I made my decision long ago, señor. A Pulido loves but once, and does not wed where she cannot love!"
"Cara!" he cried; and pressed her close again.