"Oh yes," said Russell, in his large way; "and, what's more, I can make you happy for the rest of your life. I like you, Rita. I'm quite fond of you. You're an uncommonly pretty woman." Saying this, Russell took Rita's hand and pressed it with much emphasis. Now, the interpretation which Rita put upon these words and this action was very different from what Russell intended. The benignant Russell merely wished to impress upon Rita's mind that he had very friendly feelings toward her, and that, if she would help him, he was in a position to reward her handsomely. He didn't want to name any sum. He wished, for obvious reasons, to leave the amount unsettled. But Rita understood it differently. Being of a sentimental turn, she regarded this as a sort of declaration of love--in fact, almost an offer of marriage--and, if not so altogether, at least an approach to it. Still, she was a shrewd woman, and waited until Russell had explained himself further. Russell observed her silence, and was quite satisfied. It showed proper caution, and caution was an excellent quality in one whom he wished to have for a helper in his need. So he went on in the same way, still holding Rita's hand. "You are so pretty, Rita, my dear, I swear I never before saw such a pretty woman. This isn't the place for you. You must get out of this; and if you will only go away with me, why, there's nothing that I wouldn't do for you. When I like a person, I'm ready to do anything for them. And the first moment I saw you, I said to myself, 'There's the woman for you!'" "Am I really the woman for you?" asked Rita, full of excited hopes, and still continuing to misinterpret his words. "The very one!" said Russell. "The one of all others! Heaven has sent you to me. Rita, my dear, do what I ask!" Rita was deeply moved. This brilliant, wealthy stranger seemed to love her. He wanted her to fly with him. But, oh, if he should prove false! "Ah, senor, you not earnest--you not true!" said Rita, clasping his hand in both of hers. "True! earnest!" cried Russell. "I swear, Rita, my dear, I will be true to what I say--always, always! Can't you trust me, Rita, my dear?" "Oh, senor," sighed Rita, deeply moved, "you persuade me too easy. And think on the danger--the life is risk--the death will come if we are captura." "Rita, my dear," said Russell, "let us not talk of danger. Let us fly together. I will always remember your devotion. I will never forget you as long as life lasts. I am noted for my truth and fidelity. I've got a warm and throbbing heart. And now, Rita, my dear, if you want one who will always be yours truly--if you want one who will love you and care for you--why, I'm your man!" Upon these words Rita put, as usual, her own interpretation. The last words especially--"I'm your man"--seemed to her to be the most direct offer yet. "My man?" she said--"and will you be my man, senor?" "Of course--of course," said Russell, not comprehending her drift.