Beth Norvell

"He ask me vould I marry him. Si, si, vat you tink of dat--me,

Mercedes Morales, de dancer at de Gayety--he ask me vould I marry him.

Oh, Mother of God!"

The young American stared at her upturned animated face, suddenly

aroused to womanly interest.

"And what did you say?"

Mercedes stamped her foot savagely on the hard ground, her eyes glowing

like coals of fire.

"You ask vat I say? Saints of God! vat could I say? He vas a good

man, dat Señor Brown, but I--I vas not a good voman. I no tell him

dat--no! no! I vas shamed; I get red, vite; I hardly speak at all; my

heart thump so I tink maybe eet choke me up here, but I say no. I say

no once, tvice, tree time. I tell him he big fool to tink like dat of

me. I tell him go vay an' find voman of his own race--good voman. I

tell him eet could nevah be me, no, nevah."

"Then you do not love him?"

The puzzled dancer hesitated, her long lashes lowered, and outlined

against her cheeks.

"Lofe? Dat vas not nice vord as eet come to me. I know not ver' vell

just vat. Maybe if I not lofe him I marry him--si; I no care den. I

make him to suffer, but not care; ees eet not so? Anyhow, I--vat you

call dat?--respect dis Señor Brown mooch, ver' mooch. Maybe dat last

longer as lofe--quien sabe?"

Scarcely comprehending this peculiar explanation, Beth Norvell's first

conception was that the girl had chosen wrong, that she had allied

herself upon the side of evil.

"You mean you--you will go back to Biff Farnham?" she asked, her tone

full of horror.

Mercedes straightened up quickly, her young, expressive face filled

with a new passion, which struggled almost vainly for utterance through

her lips.

"Go back to dat man!" she panted. "Me? Sapristi! and you tink I do

dat after Señor Brown ask me be hees vife! Blessed Mary! vat you tink

I am? You tink I not feel, not care? I go back to dat Farnham? Eet

vould not be, no! no! I tol' him dat mooch, an' he got mad. I no

care, I like dat. I no lofe him, nevah; I vas sold to him for money,

like sheep, but I learn to hate him to kill." The deep glow of the

black eyes softened, and her head slowly dropped until it touched the

other's extended arm. "But dis Señor Brown he vas not dat kind--he ask

me to marry him; he say he not care vat I been, only he lofe me, an' he

be good to me alvays. I vas hungry for dat, señorita, but I say no,

no, no! Eet vas not for me, nevah. I send him avay so sorry, an' den

I cry ven I hear his horse go out yonder. Eet vas like he tread on me,

eet hurt dat vay. Maybe I no lofe him, but I know he vas good man an'

he lofe me. Eet vas de honor ven he ask me dat, an' now I be good

voman because a good man lofes me. Holy Mother! eet vill be easy now

dat he vanted to marry me."