“I have no doubt you are capable of inventing a hundred reasons—after hearing your awful guilty confession to my father, you little innocent!” answered Hector.
And the ice thus broken, things went on a good deal better, and they came to talk freely.
“Of course,” said Hector, “I am not so silly or so wicked as to try to persuade you that my mother will open her arms to you. She knows neither you nor herself.”
“Will she be terribly angry?” said Annie, with a foreboding quaver in her voice.
“Rather, I am afraid,” allowed Hector.
“Then don’t you think we had better give it up at once?”
“Never forever!” cried Hector. “That is not what I fell in love with you for! I will not give you up even for Death himself! He is not the ruler of our world. No lover is worthy of the name who does not defy Death and all his works!”
“I am not afraid of him, Hector. I, too, am ready to defy him. But is it right to defy your mother?”
“It is, when she wants one to be false and dishonorable. For herself, I will try to honor her as much as she leaves possible to me. But my mother is not my parents.”
“Oh, please, Hector, don’t quibble. You would make me doubt you!”