"No! no!" interrupted Myra, springing to her feet. "I will not permit
it, aunt. On no account must you appeal to Don Carlos. I will see him
myself. You do not understand."
"No, I certainly do not understand, and I think you must be crazy,"
responded her aunt, with an impatient sigh. "Oh, Myra, don't you
realise in what a terrible position you have placed yourself? You lay
the blame on Tony Standish, but now only he can save you."
"Tony Standish has nothing to do with the matter now," retorted Myra.
"Only Don Carlos can save me. I beg you, Aunt Clarissa, not to make
any appeal to him. Leave me to settle the matter myself with him and
to decide my own fate, work out my own destiny. Shall I see him now or
wait till morning?"
"I think you had better wait till morning, and take time to consider
how you are placed," said Lady Fermanagh, after a thoughtful pause,
regarding Myra searchingly. "I fancy your mind must be temporarily
deranged. Myra, are you keeping something back from me?"
"Everything depends on Don Carlos--and Cojuelo," Myra responded,
evading the question. "Please say nothing to him, aunt, until I have
spoken to him alone."
"Oh, the whole affair seems a crazy nightmare, and I don't know what to
make of it all," said her aunt, with another sigh. "I wish we had
never come to this wretched, lawless place. You must have had a
premonition of trouble when you at first refused Don Carlos's
invitation for no particular reason. Myra, my dear, I am sorry for
you!"
Her feelings got the better of her, and with tears in her eyes she
flung her arms around Myra and hugged her close to her breast. And
Myra suddenly broke down, buried her face in her aunt's shoulder, and
cried like a hurt child.
"Better go to bed, dear," said Lady Fermanagh recovering herself after
a few minutes. "We are all suffering from the strain and are not
normal.... Go to bed, Myra, and try to make up your mind to go back to
England with Tony to-morrow...."