"Then you never suspected it?" asked Maria Consuelo.
"How should I? And your own father killed your husband--good Heavens!
What a story!"
"You know now. You see for yourself how impossible it is that I should
marry you."
In his excitement Orsino had risen and was pacing the room. He scarcely
heard her last words, and did not say anything in reply. Maria Consuelo
lay quite still upon the lounge, her hands clasped tightly together and
straining upon each other.
"You see it all now," she said again. This time his attention was
arrested and he stopped before her.
"Yes. I see what you mean. But I do not see it as you see it. I do not
see that any of these things you have told me need hinder our marriage."
Maria Consuelo did not move, but her expression changed. The light stole
slowly into her face and lingered there, not driving away the sadness
but illuminating it.
"And would you have the courage, in spite of your family and of society,
to marry me, a woman practically nameless, older than yourself--"
"I not only would, but I will," answered Orsino.
Pages:
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585