Page:Bianca, or, The Young Spanish Maiden (Toru Dutt).djvu/27

Rh was looking at him with his keen dark eyes; "The lad loves her, after all, but 'tis only passion not, affection," thought he, as he looked at the pale handsome face before him. Lord Moore spoke first; his voice was very low; "What is your reply to my suit?" "Are fusal, Lord Mrs"!" "Is there no hope, then ?" Demanded he; there was a sadness in his voice as he asked the question. "You had no right, Lord Moore, to show your feelings towards my daughter to her, before speaking to me." Lord Moore flushed up angrily,—"I never spoke to her of my love," he said. "No,you did worse, sir, you kissed her as if—"Lord Moore interrupted him hastily—"as a man his affianced wife." "Affianced wife! Halte-là! Elle n'est pas votro fiancée encore, sauf votre respect." Garcia spoke French whenever he was excited. "Que dira votre mère? What would her ladyship say if I were to allow you to marry my daughter?" "My mother shall welcome her, as her son’s beloved wife." "Not as a daughter of her own; she will submit to Bianca as a necessary appendage of her son. She will not love Bianca." "What does that matter, Mr. Garcia, when I love her, and I love Bianca (his voice fell a little as he uttered the loved name) fondly, passionately, with the love of a man!" He spoke impetuously, but he cheek was pale. "Oh have pity on me!" He cried, his arms placed on the table and his face buried in his hand. Garcia relented a little at this. "Let them be happy;" he thought, and sighed; "life is too short and too full of trouble. Why should I put an obstacle to their happiness." He paused;—presently;—" od help me do the right;" he said. Ho glanced at the figure of Lord Moore; thou he rose and went up to him. He stood looking at him; "Goodlad!" he said and touched him slightly on the arm; Lord Moore started; his pale face smote Garcia's heart. "Poorlad!" he said again; "Tu l’aimes bien, done" "Plus que ma vie." "Ta la rendras heureuse?" "Oui, Dieu en soit temoin." And a flush came over his pale face. "Alors, je te la donne monfils." Garcia’s eyes were misty, and he turned aside to conceal his emotion. "Merci!" Said Lord Moore; and he wrung hard the swarthy hand of the Spanish gentleman. "C'est assez." There