“Ah, señor, with all my heart!” she replied softly.
“Dearest—I think I must ask you to forgive me for—for something I can’t confess. And now tell me—this reception given to-morrow by your mother—is that to announce your engagement to Perez?”
“Yes and I will be free then till fall—when—when—”
She bowed assent and hesitatingly slid a white hand toward him.
“Fall! It’s a long time. Dolores, I must go back to Brazil.”
“Ah, señor, that will kill me! Stay!” she entreated.
“But it would be dangerous. Perez dislikes me. I hate him. Something terrible might come of it.”
“That is his risk. I have consented to marry him. I will do my duty before and after. But I see no reason why I may not have a little happiness—of my own—until that day comes. Life for me will not contain all I could wish. I told you; now I am happy. But you were included. Señor, if you love me you will remain.”
“Dolores, can you think we will not suffer more?” he asked.