our," she laughed.

"True! But we've had very little chance to talk calmly and rationally;
now, have we? Of course you're accustomed to such things, perhaps; but
it has been a trifle strenuous for a person of my easy ways. I don't
mind telling you that I'm positively winded. Let's rest a bit before you
leave."

But the girl shook her head at his suggestion. "You forget how she has
waited and longed for this hour. She has been very ill; nothing seemed
to interest her until you promised to come on the last day of the
_fiesta_. Since then she has been like another woman. She is counting
the moments now until she feels your arms about her."

Roly stirred uncomfortably, for here was something he had not counted
upon. One woman at a time was ample; he had no desire to hold another to
his breast. He was shocked, too, that this girl should suggest such a
thing after what had passed between them. It was unseemly. He felt
tempted to confess his deception and to demand an explanation of the
whole affair, but some sense of shame held him back. Besides, his
companion was undoubtedly sincere, and he could not bring himself to
cause her dismay.

Another reason that urged him to hold his tongue and to let the
adventure run its course was that as yet he had not seen her face. The
desire to do so was becoming insufferable. He was about to claim the
privilege when she changed the current of his thoughts.

"You must not be shocked if she does not recognize you. She has been
ill, very ill, since you--proved so great a--trial to her. You
understand?"

"Perfectly!" he said, thankful that she could not detect his signs of
bewilderment.

"Very well, then. You will make free of your cousin Alfred's hospitality
while I am gone." She laughed nervously. "La! There is irony for you."

"Suppose he should return in the mean time?"

She shrugged. "You seem quite capable of caring for yourself, m'sieu'. I
should not wish to be in his shoes, that is all. But there is little
danger. And now I must leave you."

"Just a moment," he said, taking her two hands in his. "You have seen my
face. Don't you think I wish to see yours?"

Her breath caught at the tone of his voice. "Not yet. Please! When I
return--when you have held her in your arms and made your peace. Then,
perhaps, if you wish--but not until then." She pressed his fingers
meaningly, and he thrilled.

"You haven't spoken my name, either," said he. "Won't you tell me that
you--like me