Vas eet not so?"
Brown set his teeth half savagely, the little witch tantalizing him
with the swiftness of her speech, the coy archness of her manner. To
his slower mentality she was like a humming-bird darting about from
flower to flower, yet ever evading him.
"M-maybe yer think I ain't in e-e-earnest?" he persisted, doggedly.
"M-maybe yer imagine I d-did n't m-m-mean what I s-said when I asked
yer ter m-marry me?"
She glanced up quickly into his serious eyes, half shrinking away as if
she suddenly comprehended the dumb, patient strength of the man, his
rugged, changeless resolution. There was a bit of falter in the quick
response, yet this was lost to him.
"No, senor, I no make fun. I no dat kind. I do de right, dat all; I
do de right for both of us. I no vant to do de wrong. You
_comprende_, senor? Maybe you soon grow ver' tire Mercedes, she marry
you?"
The infatuated miner shook his head emphatically, and flung out one
hand toward her.
"No! Oh, you tink so now; you tink so ver' mooch now, but eet better
ve vait an' see.
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