"Come," she said, laying her hand softly on his arm, "do not be
angry with me for putting you back only five days to where you were
when you first entered our house. Five days is not much of
happiness or sorrow to forget, is it, Carroll--Captain Carroll?"
Her voice died away in a faint sigh. "Do not be angry with me, if--
knowing you could be nothing more--I wanted you to love my sister,
and my sister to love you. We should have been good friends--such
good friends."
"Why do you say, 'Knowing it could he nothing more'?" said Carroll,
grasping her hand suddenly. "In the name of Heaven, tell me what
you mean!"
"I mean I can not marry unless I marry one of my mother's race.
That is my mother's wish, and the will of her relations. You are
an American, not of Spanish blood."
"But surely this is not your determination?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "What would you? It is the
determination of my people."
"But knowing this"--he stopped; the quick blood rose to his face.
"Go on, Captain Carroll. You would say, Knowing this, why did I
not warn you? Why did I not say to you when we first met, You have
come to address my sister; do not fall in love with me--I can not
marry a foreigner."
"You are cruel, Maruja. But, if that is all, surely this prejudice
can be removed? Why, your mother married a foreigner--an
American."
"Perhaps that is why," said the girl, quietly. She cast down her
long lashes, and with the point of her satin slipper smoothed out
the soft leaves of the clover at her feet.
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