“I have done so before, Rafael; your conduct has given me no cause to change my mind.”
“Ha! my conduct has nothing to do with it; you have other reasons. Isolina, do not imagine I am such a bobo. I know your secret: you love this gringo—this Yankee captain?”
“And suppose I do, that is my affair. Nay, more, sir, shall not even attempt to make a secret of it. I do love him—I do—I do.”
Ijurra’s eyes gleamed with malignant fire; his lips turned white, and tightened over his teeth; he seemed endeavouring to curb the exposure of his spleen.
“And you would marry him?” he asked with compressed emphasis.
“I shall marry him,” was the prompt reply.
“Por todos santos! it shall never be.”
“And who is to hinder it?”
“I!”
“Ha, ha, ha! You are raving, Rafael Ijurra!”