d, 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.

I was alone with my host in the apartment I had hitherto occupied. The
females had retired to another part of the house; and I noticed that
Seguin, on entering, had looked to the door, turning the bolt.

What terrible proof was he going to exact of my faith, of my love? Was
he about to take my life, or bind me by some fearful oath, this man of
cruel deeds?