“Had I permitted our love thus far, without that intention, I should have merited your reproaches. I should have been ‘trifling,’ as you have said.”
“Marry me!” exclaimed Zoe, with a look of bewilderment.
“Listen! Poor child! she knows not the meaning of the word!”
“Ay, lovely Zoe! I will; else my heart, like yours, shall be wrecked for ever! Oh, sir!”
“Come, sir, enough of this. You have won her from herself; you have yet to win her from me. I will sound the depth of your affection. I will put you to the proof.”
“Put me to any proof!”
“We shall see; come! let us in. Here, Zoe!”
And, taking her by the hand, he led her towards the house. I followed close behind.
As we passed through a clump of wild orange trees, the path narrowed; and the father, letting go her hand, walked on ahead. Zoe was between us; and as we reached the middle of the grove, she turned suddenly, and laying her hand upon mine, whispered in a trembling voice, “Enrique, tell me, what is ‘to marry’?”
“Dearest Zoe! not now: it is too difficult to explain; another time, I—”