"Sir!" continued he, in a voice trembling with emotion, "you have deeply
wronged me."
"I know it not; I have not wronged you."
"What call you this? Trifling with my child!"
"Trifling!" I exclaimed, roused to boldness by the accusation.
"Ay, trifling! Have you not won her affections?"
"I won them fairly."
"Pshaw, sir! This is a child, not a woman. Won them fairly! What can
she know of love?"
"Papa! I do know love. I have felt it for many days. Do not be angry
with Enrique, for I love him; oh, papa! in my heart I love him!"
He turned to her with a look of astonishment.
"Hear this!" he exclaimed. "Oh, heavens! my child, my child!"
His voice stung me, for it was full of sorrow.
"Listen, sir!" I cried, placing myself directly before him. "I have
won the affections of your daughter. I have given mine in return. I am
her equal in rank, as she is mine. What crime, then, have I committed?
Wherein have I wronged you?"
He looked at me for some moments without making any reply.
"You would marry her, then?" he said, at length, with an evident change
in his manner.
"Had I permitted our love thus far, without that intention, I should
have merited your reproaches. I should have been `trifling,' as you
have said."
"Marry me!" exclaimed Zoe, with a look of bewilderment.
"Listen! Poor child! she knows not the meaning of the word!"
"Ay, lovely Zoe! I will; else my heart, like yours, shall be wrecked
for ever! Oh, sir!"
"Come, sir, enough of this. You have won her from herself; you have yet
to win her from me. I will sound the depth of your affection. I will
put you to the proof."
"Put me to any proof!"
"We shall see; come! let us in. Here, Zoe!"
And, taking her by the hand, he led her towards the house. I followed
close behind.
As we passed through a clump of wild orange trees, the path narrowed;
and the father, letting go her hand, walked on ahead. Zoe was between
us; and as we reached the middle of the grove, she turned suddenly, and
laying her hand upon mine, whispered in a trembling voice, "Enrique,
tell me, what is `to marry'?"
"Dearest Zoe! not now: it is too difficult to explain; another time,
I--"
"Come, Zoe! your hand, child!"
"Papa, I am coming!"