"Papa!" exclaimed Zoe, rising up and reaching forward to embrace him. The father put her to one side, at the same time tightly grasping her hand in his. For a moment he remained silent, bending his eyes upon me with an expression I cannot depict. There was in it a mixture of reproach, sorrow, and indignation. I had risen to confront him, but I quailed under that singular glance, and stood abashed and silent. "And this is the way you have thanked me for saving your life? A brave return, good sir; what think you?" I made no reply. "Sir!" continued he, in a voice trembling with emotion, "you have deeply wronged me." "I know it not; I have not wronged you." "What call you this? Trifling with my child!" "Trifling!" I exclaimed, roused to boldness by the accusation. "Ay, trifling! Have you not won her affections?" "I won them fairly." "Pshaw, sir! This is a child, not a woman. Won them fairly! What can she know of love?" "Papa! I do know love. I have felt it for many days. Do not be angry with Enrique, for I love him; oh, papa! in my heart I love him!" He turned to her with a look of astonishment. "Hear this!" he exclaimed. "Oh, heavens! my child, my child!" His voice stung me, for it was full of sorrow. "Listen, sir!" I cried, placing myself directly before him. "I have won the affections of your daughter. I have given mine in return. I am her equal in rank, as she is mine. What crime, then, have I committed? Wherein have I wronged you?" He looked at me for some moments without making any reply. "You would marry her, then?" he said, at length, with an evident change in his manner. "Had I permitted our love thus far, without that intention, I should have merited your reproaches. I should have been `trifling,' as you have said." "Marry me!" exclaimed Zoe, with a look of bewilderment. "Listen! Poor child! she knows not the meaning of the word!" "Ay, lovely Zoe! I will; else my heart, like yours, shall be wrecked for ever! Oh, sir!" "Come, sir, enough of this. You have won her from herself; you have yet to win her from me. I will sound the depth of your affection. I will put you to the proof." "Put me to any proof!" "We shall see; come! let us in. Here, Zoe!" And, taking her by the hand, he led her towards the house. I followed close behind. As we passed through a clump of wild orange trees, the path narrowed; and the father, letting go her hand, walked on ahead. Zoe was between us; and as we reached the middle of the grove, she turned suddenly, and laying her hand upon mine, whispered in a trembling voice, "Enrique, tell me, what is `to marry'?" "Dearest Zoe! not now: it is too difficult to explain; another time, I--" "Come, Zoe! your hand, child!" "Papa, I am coming!" CHAPTER SIXTEEN. AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.