"Lie down again for a few minutes, beloved, until you recover," he said quickly.
He settled Myra back again among the cushions on the couch, and insisted upon her drinking a glass of aguardiente, which made her feel more feverish than ever but revived her and dispelled the faintness.
"Did I kiss you too hungrily, darling, and feast myself too long on your sweet lips without pausing for breath?" asked Don Carlos, after a pause, when he saw that Myra was recovering. He, too, was flushed and rather breathless, and his long, sinewy hands were trembling slightly. "Myra, beloved, have my kisses fired your heart?"
"You have hurt me," equivocated Myra, avoiding his glowing eyes. "I feel faint and exhausted. Oh, surely I have suffered enough to-night! My strength is spent. Oh, surely you won't be so cruel as to take further advantage of my helplessness?"
Don Carlos sighed heavily, and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I did not mean to hurt you, and had forgotten that you must be weary," he said, after a moment of hesitation. "I will put you to bed, beloved, and to-morrow you will tell me that you love me."
He bent down and picked Myra up as if she were a baby, cradling her in his arms and smiling down into her startled blue eyes.
"Always, since our first meeting, I have longed to hold you in my arms like this and to feel that you were wholly and completely mine," he murmured, as he caressed Myra's cheek with his lips. "You are very beautiful, my sweet love. The sweetness and loveliness of you entrances and enraptures my heart. I shall spend my life admiring and adoring and worshipping, exploring and delighting in the loveliness of you, my heart's delight. Do you not feel, Myra mia, that here in your lover's arms and on my breast you have found the home of your heart?"
Yet again Myra felt he was sapping her powers of resistance, casting a spell over her, and she lay passive in his strong arms, breathing gaspingly.
"Let me go," she pleaded brokenly. "Please let me go!"