"Your rank, your millions, your guardian! The Count Villa Rocca,
my enemy!" he hoarsely whispers.
The clinging beauty hands him the ribbon from her throat.
"Claim me with this!" she cries as his arms enfold her.
The dream of young love; first love; true love.
Every obstacle fades away: Lagunitas' millions; proud guardian;
scheming duenna; watchful Villa Rocca. The world is naught to the
two whose arms bind the universe in love's golden circle,
Raoul murmurs to the glowing maiden in his arms:
"And can you trust me?"
The splendid beauty clasps him closer, whispering softly:
"A Spanish girl loves once and to the death."
"But, darling," she falters, as her arms cling closer, "we must
wait and hope!"
A letter from Philip Hardin arrives, in the gayest midwinter of a
rejuvenated Paris. The time for decisive action has arrived. Natalie
revolves every clause of Hardin's proposition in her mind.
In less than a year the now blooming Isabel will be eighteen years
of age. The accounting--
Hardin is trying now to cut the legal Gordian knot. His letter
reads as follows:
I have determined to make you a proposition which should close all
our affairs. It should leave no cause for complaint.
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