“No!” she cried, extending her hands. She softened. Her lips parted. If there were depths in her, Montes had sounded them. “Dolores, tell me the truth,” he said, taking her hands. “You have never been true.” “I am true to my family. They chose Perez for me to marry--before I ever knew you. It is settled. I shall marry him. But--” “But! Dolores, you love me?” She drooped her head. “Yes, señor--lately it has come to that. Ah! Don’t--don’t! Montes, I beg of you! You forget--I’m engaged to Perez.” Montes released her. In her confession and resistance there was proof of his injustice. She was no nobler than her class. She was a butterfly in her fancies, a little cat in her greedy joy of physical life. But in her agitation he saw a deeper spirit. “Dolores, if I had come first--before Perez--would you have given yourself to me?” he asked. “Ah, señor, with all my heart!” she replied softly. “Dearest--I think I must ask you to forgive me for--for something I can’t confess. And now tell me--this reception given to-morrow by your mother--is that to announce your engagement to Perez?” “Yes and I will be free then till fall--when--when--” “When you will be married?” She bowed assent and hesitatingly slid a white hand toward him. “Fall! It’s a long time. Dolores, I must go back to Brazil.” “Ah, señor, that will kill me! Stay!” she entreated. “But it would be dangerous. Perez dislikes me. I hate him. Something terrible might come of it.” “That is his risk. I have consented to marry him. I will do my duty before and after. But I see no reason why I may not have a little happiness--of my own--until that day comes. Life for me will not contain all I could wish. I told you; now I am happy. But you were included. Señor, if you love me you will remain.” “Dolores, can you think we will not suffer more?” he asked. “I know we will afterward. But we shall not now.” “Now is perilous to me. To realize you love me! I did not think you capable of it. Listen! Something--something might prevent your marriage--or happen afterward. All--all is so uncertain.” “_Quién sabe?_” she whispered; and to the tawny, sleepy languor of her eyes there came a fancy, a dream, a mystic hope. “Dolores, if Perez were lost to you--one way or another--would you marry me?” he broke out huskily. Not until then had he asked her hand in marriage. “If such forlorn hope will make you stay--make you happy--yes, Señor Montes,” was her answer. * * * * *