The black woman shook her head.  “She is sick,” she said, in a harsh voice, “that is all I know.  I have never seen her act so.”  From her expression Kirk fancied that she held him responsible for her mistress’s sufferings.

“Now, don’t be angry with me,” he made haste to say.  “I’m sick, too, and you’re the only friend we have.  You love her, don’t you?  Well, so do I. and I’m going to make her happy in spite of her father and all the rest.  Run along now, I won’t keep you waiting to-night.”

Long before the appointed time he was at the place of meeting, but scarcely had the city chimes rung out nine when he saw two women emerge from the dark side-street next the Garavel mansion and come swiftly toward him.

He refrained from rushing out to meet them, but when they were close to his place of concealment he stepped forward, with Chiquita’s name upon his lips and his arms outstretched.  She drew away.

“No, no, senor!” she cried.  “I sent for you because there was no other way—­that is all.  My father would not let you come to the house.  You will not think me bold?”

“Of course not.”

“I could not let you go until you knew the truth.  You do not—­ believe it was my fault?”

“I don’t know what to believe, because I don’t know what has happened.  All I know is that I got a note from your father.  But that won’t make me let you go.”

She clung desperately to the Bajan woman as if afraid to trust herself near him.  “Wait—­wait,” she said, “until you have heard it all.”

Never had she appeared so beautiful as now, with her face white, her bosom heaving, as the half-light dimly revealed.

“No matter what it is, I’ll never give you up,” he declared, stubbornly.

“Ah!  I feared you would say those very words; but you must do it, just the same.  It will be hard for us both, I know—­but—­” She choked and shook her head as the words refused to come.

Stephanie laid a great copper hand soothingly upon her shoulder, and growled at Kirk in a hoarse, accusing voice: 

“You see?”

“Tell me first why I must give you up?”

“Because, in spite of all, I am to marry Ramon,” Gertrudis said, wretchedly.

“Who said so?”

“My father.  He has forbidden me to think of you, and ordered that I marry Ramon.  Sick or well, living or dead, I must marry him.”

“I’m hanged if you do!”

“It is those miserable politics again.  If I do not obey, my father cannot be President, do you see?” Pausing an instant to master her agitation, she hurried on.  “To be President means a great deal to him and to our family; it is the greatest honor that has ever come to a Garavel.  Senor Alfarez is terribly angry that I refused to marry his son, to whom since I was a little child I have been engaged.  Ramon also is furious; he threatened to kill himself.  So, it comes to this then:  if I will not bind myself to the agreement, Senor Alfarez will contest the election—­I do not know how you say those things—­but my father will be defeated—­perhaps he will be humbled.  Many other terrible things which I cannot understand will happen also.  If I agree, then there will be no opposition to his plans.  He will be President, and I will be a grand lady.”