‘But, mamma--mamma, I haven’t refused him. I don’t _mean_ to refuse him! If (as you say) I must make up my mind at once, I _have_ made it up! I accept Sir Russell’s proposal, and you can go and tell him so.’ ‘Oh, my darling girl!’ exclaimed Mrs Courtney effusively, ‘I was sure you would see this grand prospect in its proper light at last. How proud and delighted your father will be to hear your decision. But you must give Sir Russell his answer in person, my love. You must let me bring him here, and tell him yourself that you will be his wife.’ ‘But I am not fit to see any one. I am so untidy!’ cried Quita, jumping out of her hammock, and standing before her mother. She was clothed in a long loose robe, of saffron colour, with hanging sleeves, that showed her white arms, and a belt that spanned her slender waist. Her dusky hair lay in a rippling mass upon her shoulders, and her fair face was flushed with excitement, and perhaps regret. She had never looked more lovely in her life, and Mrs Courtney regarded her with pardonable pride and admiration. ‘You are charming, my dear! I will not have you wait to make a single alteration in your dress; and Sir Russell is so impatient, that he will readily pardon the negligence of your morning attire. He knows you have been ill, and are disinclined for much exertion. Sit down in this chair, Quita, and I will bring him to you in another minute. Oh, my dear child,’ concluded Mrs Courtney, with a close embrace, ‘how thankful I am that all is about to end so happily for you! You have half killed me by your thoughtlessness and imprudence.’ There were genuine tears in her mother’s eyes as she pronounced the words, and Quita felt for the first time, perhaps, what a terrible risk she had run. ‘Never mind, mamma!’ she whispered, ‘it is over now, and _he_--he has promised me that I shall never hear anything more about it. Let us try and forget it ever occurred.’ ‘Yes, my dearest girl, that is just what you must do. Blot out the past, like a hideous dream. It has been a terrible experience for you, and so long as you remained unmarried, I should always have trembled for your safety. But now--as the wife of the Governor, my dear child’s future is assured, and we will never mention the hateful subject again--not even to each other.’ ‘No! and, mamma, you told me the other day that (excepting for certain reasons) you would have had some changes made on the plantation. Couldn’t you manage to have those changes made now. Not too suddenly, you know, so as to excite suspicion, but as if they were brought about in the natural course of events. Can’t you persuade papa,’ said Maraquita, hiding her face in her mother’s bosom, ‘to engage a--a--new overseer? It would be better for all of us.’