"Did you think I was coming that way--where everybody could follow
me?" she laughed, softly. "No; I came through the thicket over
there," indicating the direction with her flexible shoulder, "and
nearly lost my slipper and my eyes--look!" She threw back the
inseparable lace shawl from her blond head, and showed a spray of
myrtle clinging like a broken wreath to her forehead. The young
officer remained gazing at her silently.

"I like to hear you speak my name," he said, with a slight
hesitation in his breath. "Say it again."

"Car-roll, Car-roll, Car-roll," she murmured gently to herself two
or three times, as if enjoying her own native trilling of the r's.
"It's a pretty name. It sounds like a song. Don Carroll, eh! El
Capitan Don Carroll."

"But my first name is Henry," he said, faintly.

"'Enry--that's not so good. Don Enrico will do. But El Capitan
Carroll is best of all. I must have it always: El Capitan
Carroll!"

"Always?" He colored like a boy.

"Why not?" He was confusedly trying to look through her brown
lashes; she was parrying him with the steel of her father's glance.
"Come! Well! Captain Carroll! It was not to tell me your name--
that I knew already was pretty--Car-roll!" she murmured again,
caressing him with her lashes; "it was not for this that you asked