"Yes, sir. But if I were not, it wouldn't make any difference. Chiquita is my religion."
"Who?" The father started.
"I—I call her that," Kirk explained, in confusion. "To myself, of course."
"Indeed! So do I," said Senor Garavel, dryly. For a moment he frowned in meditation. There were many things to consider. He felt a certain sympathy for this young man, with his straightforwardness and artless brusquerie. Moreover, though the banker was no great respecter of persons, the mention of Darwin K. Anthony had impressed him. If Kirk were all that he seemed, he had no doubt of the ultimate reconciliation of father and son. At all events, it would do no harm to learn more of this extraordinary suitor, and meanwhile he must treat him with respect while carefully guarding his own dignity against possibly impertinent advances.
"She has been promised to Ramon," he said, at last, "and I have considered her future quite settled. Of course, such arrangements are frequently altered for various causes, even at the last moment, but—quien sabe?" He shrugged his shoulders. "She may not wish to entertain your suit. So why discuss it? Why make plans or promises? It is a matter to be handled with the greatest delicacy; there are important issues linked with it. Where there is the prospect of an alliance between two houses—of business or politics—you will understand that according to our ideas, those considerations must govern—absolutely. Otherwise—I do not know—I can say nothing to encourage you except—that, for a young man I have known so very short a time"—he smiled genially—"you have impressed me not unfavorably. I thank you for coming to me, at any rate."
The two men rose and shook hands; Kirk was not altogether cast down by the result of the interview. He understood the banker's allusion to the possible change of arrangements, and felt sure from what Chiquita had told him that the marriage with Ramon could not take place after the true nature of Garavel's political aspirations became known. In that case, if all went well, it did not seem impossible that Garavel would give his consent, and then Gertrudis alone would remain to be won. If, on the other hand, her father refused his permission—well, there are many ways of winning a bride. Kirk believed in his lucky star, and had a constitutional inability to imagine failure.
The truth was that Andres Garavel had not hesitated long after that memorable night at the Tivoli before accepting the brilliant prize which the Cortlandts had dangled so alluringly before his eyes, and, the decision once made, he had entered into the scheme with all his soul. He was wise enough, however, to leave his destiny largely in their hands. This meant frequent councils among the three, a vast amount of careful work, of crafty intrigue, of untiring diplomacy, and, although his candidacy had not as yet been more than whispered, the purple robe of power was daily being woven, thread by thread.
It was not long after Kirk's visit to the bank that Garavel, during one of these conferences, took occasion to bring up the young man's name. Cortlandt had been called to the telephone, and Edith was left free to answer without constraint.
"I have seen you and him riding quite frequently," her guest remarked, with polite interest. "Is he, then, an old friend?"
"Yes, we are very fond of him."