not be willing to have your own sister do? Would you be willing that your own sister should marry Alessandro?”
Clever Señora Moreno! During the few moments that Felipe had been speaking, she had perceived certain things which it would be beyond her power to do; certain others that it would be impolitic to try to do. Nothing could possibly compensate her for antagonizing Felipe. Nothing could so deeply wound her, as to have him in a resentful mood towards her; or so weaken her real control of him, as to have him feel that she arbitrarily overruled his preference or his purpose. In presence of her imperious will, even her wrath capitulated and surrendered. There would be no hot words between her and her son. He should believe that he determined the policy of the Moreno house, even in this desperate crisis.
Felipe did not answer. A better thrust was never seen on any field than the Señora's question. She repeated it, still more deliberately, in her wonted gentle voice. The Señora was herself again, as she had not been for a moment since she came upon Alessandro and Ramona at the brook. How just and reasonable the question sounded, as she repeated it slowly, with an expression in her eyes, of poising and weighing matters. “Would you be willing that your own sister should marry Alessandro?”
Felipe was embarrassed. He saw whither he was being led. He could give but one answer to this question. “No, mother,” he said, “I should not; but—”
“Never mind buts,” interrupted his mother; “we have not got to those yet;” and she smiled on Felipe,—an affectionate smile, but it somehow gave him a feeling of dread. “Of course I knew you could make but one answer to my question. If you had
