The Rover of the Andes: A Tale of Adventure on South America. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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before had my comrades twitted me with my indifference to the female sex. To say truth, I had myself become impressed with the feeling that I was born to be one of the old bachelors of the world—and I cannot say that the doom gave me much concern. But now—well, if you understand me, senhor, I need not explain, and if you don’t understand, explanation is useless! Mariquita was left alone in the wide world. I would not, for all the gold and silver of Peru, have spoken of love to her at that time; but I made arrangements with the postmaster and his wife to take care of the poor girl till I should return. In time I did return. She accepted me. We were married, and I brought her up here, for I wanted no society but hers. I was content to live in absolute solitude with her. She was much of the same mind, dear girl, but God had touched her heart, and in her sweet talk—without intending it, or dreaming of it—she showed me how selfish I was in thinking only of our own happiness, and caring nothing for the woes or the joys of our fellow-men.
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