Perchance to Marry by Celine Conway Page A

to make the most of it, must once have been black and lustrous, and the lovely framework of her face, stark now and overlaid by a yellowing, wrinkled skin, had certainly been arresting until a few years ago. Her hands were bony and claw-like, her shoulders sharp under the white wool, and at first view, from the balcony doorway, Sally’s reaction was one of immense compassion. Small, isolated, old, she couldn’t have much time left, and the task Sally had assumed wasn’t really big when one considered the long lifetime of loves and happiness and griefs that this indomitable little woman represented.
    Not that Dona Inez was pitiable. Good heavens, those eyes! They were fierce little coals, moving hardly at all but taking in everything.
    Marcus led Sally to the side of the bed. “ Madrecita, this is Sally. You are not to say more than bienvenida. You understand?”
    The old lady’s look at him was baleful. “You will not dictate, Marcus,” she said in a hoarse, firm little voice. “In the house and vineyards you are the master, but not in this room.” She gestured to Sally. “Come to the other side of the bed so that I can see you dearly. So.” She stared unblinkingly at the flawless young face, the graceful neck and shoulders. “How old are you?”
    Marcus said mildly, “I told you there was to be no inquisition till you’re quite well. Sally’s nineteen and very sensible.”
    “When I married,” stated Dona Inez, “I was eighteen and not at all sensible. I insisted on marrying an Englishman whose yacht had foundered near San Palos in a storm. When I inherited Las Vinas this husband of mine turned our pleasant old estate into a business proposition. That is an Englishman for you!” But she cast a proud smile at Marcus before looking up once more at Sally’s healthy pink cheeks. “It is good to be young and in love, no?”
    “Very good, senora ,” said Sally without a tremor.
    “You feel you are capable of making a man as masterful as my grandson a good wife? But perhaps that is not a fair question; for the moment it is enough to have decided. There is one thing for which I have to thank you, senorita .”
    “Leave it,” said Marcus. “You’re getting breathless again.”
    “I am not! I have rested expressly for the purpose of this talk. Senorita ,” directing that burning glance upwards once more, “I am very pleased you refused to marry Marcus in England. Knowing him a little, you will believe me when I tell you that at no time would he give us details about you, except that you were beautiful and willing to be his wife. So you will pardon me if I am inquisitive.”
    Again Marcus spoke before Sally could answer. “You promised not to talk much. Sally has been receiving new impressions all day, and she’s tired. It’s late for you, also.”
    “The child is young,” said Dona Inez, “and the young are never tired. I have been sleeping all day. So I am permitted to speak in my own room?” She went on in her regal manner, “If you find me curious during the next few days you must forgive me, senorita. I wish to know you, that is all. Please convey to your good mother my regret that I am unable to welcome her as I should. Tomorrow we shall meet, and later she and I will arrange the details of the wedding.”
    “And now,” said Marcus, “we’ll say goodnight.”
    Her smile at him had become soft and loving. “You have made me very happy today—happier than I have been for many years. This novia you have chosen is quiet and pretty, and I look forward to spending some time with her each day, so that we may soon know each other. At this moment, perhaps, she is a little afraid of me, but you will convince her that there is no need for fear. On the contrary, I could not love any woman more than I would love your wife, Marcus.”
    His expression remained cool and soothing. “I know that. And now compose yourself. I’ll call Katarina.”
    “Not for a moment.” She pointed a small yellow stick