"Yes, my father," added Marie, leaning forward across the scored
yellow-wood table, her chin resting on her hand and her dark, buck-like
eyes looking him in the face. "Yes, my father, that is so, as I have
told you already."

"And I tell you, Marie, what I have told you already, and you too,
Allan, that this thing may not be," answered Marais, hitting the table
with his fist. "I have nothing to say against you, Allan; indeed, I
honour you, and you have done me a mighty service, but it may not be."

"Why not, mynheer?" I asked.

"For three reasons, Allan, each of which is final. You are English, and
I do not wish my daughter to marry an Englishman; that is the first.
You are poor, which is no discredit to you, and since I am now ruined my
daughter cannot marry a poor man; that is the second. You live here,
and my daughter and I are leaving this country, therefore you cannot
marry her; that is the third," and he paused.

"Is there not a fourth," I asked, "which is the real reason? Namely,
that you wish your daughter to marry someone else."

"Yes, Allan; since you force me to it, there is a fourth. I have
affianced my daughter to her cousin, Hernando Pereira, a man of
substance and full age; no lad, but one who knows his own mind and can
support a wife."

"I understand," I answered calmly, although within my heart a very hell
was raging. "But tell me, mynheer, has Marie affianced herself--or
perhaps she will answer with her own lips?"