"Now bless my soul if I know what to do in such a case. Ten minutes ago she left me full of spirits and as warmly disposed as one could wish—now she returns and deigns not to even accept my hand. Duse take it, women are all alike, mysteries to me. What have I done in the interim—lighted a cigar and wrapped myself up in thought. It's a good enough cigar, too," casting a dubious glance at the weed as if some vague and monstrous suspicion had arisen in his mind that the inoffensive weed might have something to do with the matter.
Then light broke in upon him—it came from her.
"I do not speak, you say—it is because I am overcome with surprise, mortification, despair—because I have learned that you have deceived me, that you are a traitor!" came from under the veil.
Roderic was almost paralyzed at first.
The figure, the walk might be that of the governor's daughter, but the voice was no other than Georgia's.
Over his face flashed a look of joy, for his heart leaped to meet its mistress.
"Georgia—is it you—I thought, I believed—"
She stopped his stammering exclamations of mingled delight and explanation.
"I do not care to hear what you would say, Senor Owen. After this day, this hour, we must meet as strangers," she said, with difficulty controlling her emotion.