For answer he pressed her closer to his breast, holding her up without
effort. The incense from her hair was robbing him of his wits, his old
wild desire to pick her up and carry her away swept over him.
"Don't--esqueeze--me--so!" she exclaimed. "I cannot hold back--the
tears. I am so unhappy. If I could die quickly--now."
"Let us go out on the porch."
"No, no! We must remain in my father's sight. Will you take me to my
seat?"
"No, I want you to listen carefully to what I'm going to say." He spoke
low and earnestly. "Try to show nothing in your face, for they are
watching us." Seeing her more composed and attentive, he went on:
"Don't stop dancing now, when I tell you. Chiquita dear, you must marry
me, to-night, right away! I have arranged everything. No, don't look up
at me until I have finished. Try to smile. I've planned it all out and
everything is in readiness. I have a room just around the corner of the
veranda; there's a judge waiting for us, and Runnels and his wife--"
"You are mad!" she gasped.
"No, no. We'll slip through one of the French windows, and we'll be
back again before they miss us. Nobody will know. I tell you they're
waiting. If we are missed they'll think--it doesn't matter what they
think, you'll be my wife, and Ramon can't marry you then. We'll say
nothing about it until your father is elected President."
"Senor, one cannot be married in a moment. I am Catholic--the banns--"
"I've thought of all that, but a civil marriage is binding. We'll have
the religious ceremony afterward; meanwhile this will stop Ramon, at
least. I promise not to see you again until you send for me, until your
father's hopes are realized. You may wait as long as you wish, and
nobody will know. They tricked you, Chiquita dear; I can't explain, but
it wasn't all politics, by any means. Oh, girl! Don't you understand, I
love you--love you? It's our only chance." The words were tumbling from
his lips incoherently; he was pleading as if for his life, while she
clung to him to support herself. Through it all their feet moved
rhythmically, their bodies swayed to the cadences of the waltz as they
circled the ballroom. He guided her among the other whirling figures,
under the very eyes of her father and her fiance, while more than one
of the onlookers commented upon the handsome appearance of these young
people, the one so stalwart and blond and Northern, the other so chic
and dark and tropical.
He knew it was her lifelong loyalty, her traditional sense of
obedience, that made her hesitate.
"It was treachery to both of us," he urged; "they imposed upon your
father, but when he has won he'll forgive us. I know what I'm saying;
Mrs. Cortlandt told me to-night."
"Mother of God!" she exclaimed, faintly. "Is it that I am dreaming?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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