‘Henri,’ she cried, with her lips to his, ‘don’t speak to me like that! Don’t think of such a thing, for Heaven’s sake! Do you imagine that _I_ would ever consent to be placed in such a position, or that any amount of tyranny would make me marry a man against my will? Let the worst come to the worst, dear; let mamma tell my father of our intrigue; it will only result in your having to leave San Diego. Whether _I_ shall be able to go too, remains to be proved. I am under age, you know, and if papa chooses to lock me up, or send me to England, I suppose he can. But even _that_ will be better than being forced to marry a man I don’t love; and you know that I shall always remember you, dearest, and think of the time that is past, as the happiest portion of my life.’ Henri de Courcelles looked sullen and suspicious. The clasping arms were very sweet, and the ripe lips very tempting, but there was a false ring in Quita’s speech, which made itself apparent to his senses, although his judgment could not detect it. There was no fault to be found with her words, yet they inspired him with distrust, and he felt certain that she was betraying whilst she kissed him. ‘I don’t know what to think of you, Maraquita,’ he said presently. ‘I suppose you love me, in your way, but you seem very ready to fall in with your parents’ plans to get rid of me.’ ‘But what _could_ I do, Henri, if my father was determined to separate us? Am I not completely in his power? Our only chance appears to me to lie in secrecy, and yet you speak as if you would disclose the affair to all San Diego.’ ‘And if I hold my tongue and remain quiet, what then? You will marry Sir Russell Johnstone before my very eyes, and I shall have to grin and bear it.’ ‘We are the most unfortunate people in the world’, sighed Maraquita, with mock sentimentality.