Again she gave me a quick look, and then resumed her theatrical air that made her seem so irresistibly charming that I found it extremely difficult to keep on hating her.
“I am sorry to have given you so much trouble, Mr.—a—Robbins, but, after all, I have decided that there are situations more painful than the one I am now in under this roof, and that I must change my mind and remain here.”
CHAPTER V.
WHERE JEALOUSY CAN LURK, LOVE IS NOT DEAD.
Of course they say a woman has a perfect right to change her mind, and that we lords of creation must submit with a good grace; but occasions may arise when such a face-about seems too exasperating to endure.
Such a sensation overwhelmed me when I heard Hildegarde positively declare that, much as she desired to escape from the old alcalde’s roof, she preferred remaining there, face to face with some evil that had heretofore frightened her, to owing her freedom to me.
It was not at all flattering, and cut me like a two-edged dagger; but, all the same, I was more than ever determined she should escape from her prison, even though I were compelled to use force in the transaction.
Really, it was a situation that seemed fast bordering on the ridiculous rather than the tragic.
“A woman convinced against her will is of the same opinion still,” and who could say that, should we insist on rescuing her, Hildegarde, who could be perverse when she wished, might not come back again to the miserable old alcalde’s, just to spite me? But my mind was made up.
“Really, we can’t allow you to change your intentions. We have come here for a purpose, and don’t mean to give it up,” I said, as firmly yet as gently as I could.