"I would go there to live for God and pray for souls," said Agnes.
"But your grandmother will never let you; she means you shall marry me. I heard her and my mother talking about it last night; and my mother bade me come on, for she said it was all settled."
"I never heard anything of it," said Agnes, now for the first time feeling troubled. "But, my good Antonio, if you really do like me and wish me well, you will not want to distress me?"
"Certainly not."
"Well, it will distress me very, very much, if you persist in wanting to marry me, and if you say any more on the subject."
"Is that really so?" said Antonio, fixing his great velvet eyes with an honest stare on Agnes.
"Yes, it is so, Antonio; you may rely upon it."
"But look here, Agnes, are you quite sure? Mother says girls do not always know their mind."
"But I know mine, Antonio. Now you really will distress and trouble me very much, if you say anything more of this sort."
"I declare, I am sorry for it," said the young man. "Look ye, Agnes,—I did not care half as much about it this morning as I do now. Mother has been saying this great while that I must have a wife, that she was getting old; and this morning she told me to speak to you. I thought you would be all ready,—indeed I did."