Catholics -- United States -- Fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Nuns -- Fiction; West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Gore suddenly felt angry with him, instead of being merely amused. To
him it appeared a profanation of the very idea of Mariquita, to speak of
her as indulging in surmises and calculations concerning her own
matrimonial chances.
"It would not," he said, "be unnatural--but I am sure her mind is given
to no such thoughts."
Don Joaquin slightly elevated his eyebrows.
"I do not know," he said coldly, "how you can answer for what her mind
is given to. I, at any rate, must have such thoughts on her account. I
am not English. English parents may, perhaps, leave all such things to
chance. We, of my people, are not so. To us it seems the most important
of his duties for a father to trust to no chances, but arrange and
provide for his daughter's settlement in life."
Here the old fellow paused, and having shot his bolt, pretended it had
been a mere parenthesis in answer to an implied criticism.
"But," he continued, "I have wandered from what I was really explaining.
I was telling that soon I should, in the natural course of things, be
left here alone, as regards home companionship, unless I myself tried to
find a mate, so I tried and I have succeeded."
Here he bowed with great majesty and some complacence, as if he might
have added, "Though you, in your raw youthfulness and conceit, may have
thought me too old a suitor to win a lovely bride."
Gore responded by the heartiest felicitations. "Sir," he added after a
brief pause, "since it seems to me that you wish it, I will explain my
own position. I can well afford to marry. And I would wish very much to
marry. But there is only one lady whom I have ever met, whom I have now,
or ever, felt that I would greatly desire to win for my wife."
So far Don Joaquin had listened with an absolutely expressionless
countenance of polite attention, though he had never been more
interested.
"The lady," Gore continued, "is your daughter."
(Here that lady's father relaxed the aloofness of his manner, and
permitted himself a look of benign, though not eager, approval.)
"It may be," the young man went on, "that you have perceived my
wishes...."
(Don Joaquin would express neither negation nor assent.)
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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