Don Rafael became silent, perhaps from embarrassment, while Gertrudis still remained in a listening attitude. It was a melody to which she could have listened for ever!
“And when you told my father,” said she, after a pause of silence, “that—that—you loved me—did he exhibit any astonishment at the unexpected revelation?”
“No, not any,” replied the officer, himself a little surprised at the question thus put to him.
“That, then, must have been because I had already told him,” said the young beauty, with a smile as sweet as her voice. “But my father—what answer did he give you?”
“‘My dear Don Rafael,’ said he to me, ‘I would be most happy to see our families united. But this can only be with the consent of Gertrudis, and the free wish of her heart; and I have no reason to think that her heart is yours.’ Those were the terrible words that proceeded from the lips of your father. Gertrudis, do your lips confirm them?”
The voice of Don Rafael quivered as he spoke; and this trembling of a strong man—who never trembled in the presence of danger—was so delicious to the heart of her who loved him, as to hinder her from hastening to make reply.
On hearing the answer which her father had given to Don Rafael, the carnation upon her lips became of a deeper hue. She was biting them to restrain a smile. Assuming an air of gravity, however, which had the effect of rendering her lover still more anxious, she at length made reply—
“Don Rafael!” said she, “you have appealed to my candour, and I shall speak frankly to you. But swear to me that you will not regard my sincerity as a crime.”
“I swear it, Gertrudis! Speak without fear, though your words should crush a heart that is entirely your own.”
“Only on one condition can I speak freely.”