"Lieutenant Mazenas," she said, as calmly as she could, "you must not presume too far. You must remember that, no matter what my father has said, I have not yet given my consent." "Do you mean that you would disobey your father?" he asked, harshly. "I mean to say that, come what may, I will never marry you," she returned, firmly. "And why not, Estella? I am rich, I can place you in a high social position----" "Enough of that, Lieutenant Mazenas. I do not love you, and I cannot marry the man I do not love." "Tut, tut, child! Marry me, and I'll warrant that love shall come afterward. Nowadays very few marry because they love at the start. A marriage of convenience is far better." "Perhaps--in your eyes, not in mine," she said, proudly, and in her mental vision rose the form of her noble lover, Howard Sherwood. The lieutenant's eyes began to blaze with hatred. He turned, then came close to her, and glared deeply into her startled eyes. "I see how it is," he half snarled. "You have a lover, and you love him! You cannot deny it!" "I do not have to deny it!" she cried, stung into the confession. "I love him, and he is worthy of my love." "And who is this lover? Some American, I'll wager a hundred piasters!" "Yes, he is an American, and as brave and as noble as any Cuban or Spaniard that ever lived!" "No doubt, no doubt," he sneered. "In your eyes, at least, he is a paragon of valor. And has he dared to follow you to Cuba?" "He was on his way thither----" She paused. "You have no right to question me. Unless you wish to see me upon business for papa, I will retire." "Then you do not intend to keep the promise your father made in your behalf?" "No." "I will force you to do so," he hissed, in a fury. "I will make you marry me!" "Stop! Not another word, or I will have the servants show you out of the house, Lieutenant Mazenas. Remember, while my father is away, I am both master and mistress here." He turned fairly white, and muttered an oath under his breath. Then he suddenly caught up a slip of paper that had fallen from the pocket of Estella's gown. It was a note Howard had written on shipboard, with a few verses, and sent to her. She had treasured it, never dreaming what an important part it was to play in her drama of life. "To Estella, from Howard Sherwood," read the lieutenant. He gave a sudden start. "Ah, my beauty, I have found you out!" he cried, triumphantly. "The name of your lover is Howard Sherwood." "I will not deny it," replied Estella, firmly, although she blushed a deep crimson. "Now go--not another word from you!" she cried. "I'll not go just yet, fair Estella," responded the lieutenant, as he laid the note on the table. "So he is your lover, eh? And how much do you love him? Enough to save his life?" "Man!" Estella started back. "What--what do you mean?" she faltered. "Listen, and you will soon learn, Estella. Howard Sherwood is now a prisoner in a dungeon cell of one of our strongest prisons----"