He met his daughter and Gore returning to the homestead, Mariquita's
face bright with friendly interest in all that Gore had been telling
her, and the young man's certainly not less happy. Don Joaquin was out
of temper; Sarella and he had had an economic difference and he had been
aware that she had deceived him.
He barely returned Gore's and Mariquita's greeting, and his brow was
black. It was not till some time later that he and Gore found themselves
alone together. Then he said ill-humoredly:
"You and Mariquita were riding this afternoon--a good while, I think."
"It did not seem long to _me_, as you can understand," Gore replied
smiling, and anxious to ignore the old fellow's bad temper.
"Perhaps it does not seem long to you since you began to speak of
marrying my daughter."
"I did not begin to speak of it. I should have preferred to hold my
tongue till I could feel I had some right to speak of it. It was you,
sir, who began."
"And that was a long time ago. Have you yet made my daughter understand
you?"
"I cannot be sure yet."
"But I must be sure. To-morrow I shall see that she understands."
Gore was aghast.
"I earnestly beg you to abstain from doing that," he begged, too anxious
to prevent Don Joaquin's interference to risk precipitating it by
showing the anger he felt.
"Perhaps you no longer wish to marry her. If so, it would be advisable
to reduce your intercourse to common civilities--"
"Sir," Gore interrupted, "I cannot allow you to go on putting any case
founded on such an assumption as that of my no longer wishing to marry
your daughter. I wish it more every day ..."
The young man had a right to be angry, and he was angry, and perhaps was
not unwilling to show it. But it was necessary that he should for every
reason be moderate in letting his resentment appear. To have a loud
quarrel with a prospective father-in-law is seldom a measure likely to
help the suitor's wishes.
He in his turn was interrupted.
"Then," said Don Joaquin, "it is time you told her so."
"I do not think so. I think it's _not_ time, and that to tell her so now
would greatly injure my chance of success."
"I will answer for your success. I shall myself speak to her. I shall
tell her that you wish to marry her, and that I have, some time ago,
given my full consent."
Gore was well aware that Don Joaquin could not "answer for his success."
It was horrible to him to think of Mariquita being bullied, and he was
sure that her father intended to bully her. Anything would be better
than that. He was intensely earnest in his wish to succeed; it was that
earnestness that made him willing to be patient; but he was, if
possible, even more intensely determined that the poor girl should not
be tormented and dragooned by her tyrannical father. That, he would
risk a great deal to prevent, as far as his own power went.
"I most earnestly beg you not to do that," he said in a very low voice.
"But I intend to do it. If you choose to say that you do not, after all,
wish to marry her, then I will merely suggest that you should leave us."
"I have just told you the exact contrary--"
"Then, I shall tell Mariquita so to-morrow, stating that your proposal
meets with my full consent, and that in view of her prolonged intimacy
with you, her consent is taken by me for granted. I do take it for
granted."
"I wish I could. But I cannot. Sir, I still entreat you to abandon this
intention of yours."
"Only on condition that you make the proposal yourself without any
further delay."
From this decision the obstinate old father would not recede. The
discussion continued for some time, but he seemed to grow only more
fixed in his intention, and certainly he became more acerbated in
temper. Gore was sure that if he were allowed to take up the matter with
his daughter, it would be with even more harshly dictatorial tyranny
than had seemed probable at first.
Finally Gore promised that he would himself propose to Mariquita in form
on the morrow, Don Joaquin being with difficulty induced to undertake on
his side that he would not "prepare" her for what was coming. He gave
this promise quite as reluctantly as Gore gave his. The younger man
dreaded the bad effects of precipitancy; the elder, who had plenty of
self-conceit behind his dry dignity, relinquished very unwillingly the
advantages he counted upon from his diplomacy, and the weight of his
authority being known beforehand to be on the suitor's side. If Gore
were really so uncertain of success, it would be a feather in the
paternal cap to have insured that success by his solemn indications of
approval. But he saw that without his promise of absolute abstention
from interference, Gore would not agree to make his proposal, so Don
Joaquin ungraciously yielded the point perhaps chiefly because important
business called him away from the morrow's dawn till late at night.