Her hesitation was very pretty. It delighted the man, who caught her hand and kissed it.
"My—my—you can find no word, madama, for my madness; is that it?" he asked, softly. "You are right; there are no words ever coined to cover it. I make myself a carpet for your feet, mi corazon!"
"I don't want a carpet for my feet,—at least I think I do not," she said, doubtfully, "not in the face of all the frowns of California; and we perhaps go to-day where we see many frowns from my cousin. She says she may not visit your wife. Why?"
"Perhaps she does not like a home where there are endless prayers," he said, briefly; "but, such as it is, it is for you, madama. You would light up even the shadows there. As for the Doña Maria, she is—ah, well, she is old, and forgets many things. She has had her own romances, and they should teach her charity! The plans she makes in San Diego and on the road are all right for those places, but when we reach San Juan you all go to my home. I sent word ahead."
"Your wife expects us to-night?"
"She does not know what night, or what day, but she will expect you."
"She does not care at all for people, does she?" and Angela's eyes were turned from him to the sea. "All this wonderful principality of a place, and a home like a ruined castle, and the boxes of jewels they say she never looks at! She must be a marvellous woman,—the Doña Raquel Arteaga. I shall feel a little afraid, I think, of the magnificence she disdains."
"A finer castle will go up on those bluffs when you say the word, madama mia; and the jewels—one can always find more pearls in the sea!"
"How often shall I have to tell you that you must not make those foolish promises to me? You, a married man!"
"Just so often as you make me forget the marriage—and that—"