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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..104c02c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64269 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64269) diff --git a/old/64269-0.txt b/old/64269-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ddbd991..0000000 --- a/old/64269-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17473 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Chata and Chinita, by Louise Palmer Heaven - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Chata and Chinita - -Author: Louise Palmer Heaven - -Release Date: January 12, 2021 [eBook #64269] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: KD Weeks, Nick Wall and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATA AND CHINITA *** - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding -the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. - - CHATA AND CHINITA - - =A Novel= - - BY - LOUISE PALMER HEAVEN - -[Illustration] - - BOSTON - ROBERTS BROTHERS - 1889 - - - - - - - - - _Copyright, 1889_, - BY LOUISE PALMER HEAVEN. - - --- - - _All rights reserved._ - - - - - - - - - =University Press:= - JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. - - - - - CHATA AND CHINITA. - - ---------- - - I. - - -On an evening in May, some forty years ago, Tio Pedro, the _portero_, or -gate-keeper, of Tres Hermanos, had loosened the iron bolts that held -back the great doors against the massive stone walls, and was about to -close the hacienda buildings for the night, when a traveller, humbly -dressed in a shabby suit of buff leather, urged his weary mule up the -road from the village, and pulling off his wide sombrero of woven grass, -asked in the name of God for food and shelter. - -Pedro glanced at him sourly enough from beneath his broad felt-hat, gay -with a silver cord and heavy tassels. The last rays of the setting sun -flashed in his eyes, allowing him but an uncertain glimpse of the dark -face of the stranger, though the shabby and forlorn aspect of both man -and beast were sufficiently apparent to warn him from forcing an -appearance of courtesy, and he muttered, grumblingly,— - -“Pass in! Pass in! See you not I am in a hurry? God save us! Am I to -stand all night waiting on your lordship? Another moment, friend, and -the gate would have been shut. By my patron saint,” he added in a lower -tone, “it would have been small grief to me to have turned the key upon -thee and thy beast. By thy looks, Tia Selsa’s mud hut for thee, and the -shade of a mesquite for thy mule, would have suited all needs well -enough. But since it is the will of the saints that thou comest here, -why get thee in.” - -“Eheu!” ejaculated a woman who stood by, “what makes thee so spiteful -to-night, Tio Pedro, as if the bit and sup were to be of thy providing? -Thou knowest well enough that Doña Isabel herself has given orders that -no wayfarer shall be turned from her door!” - -“Get thee to the hand-mill, gossip!” cried the gatekeeper, angrily. -“This new-comer will add a handful of corn to thy stint for grinding; he -has a mouth for a _gordo_, believe me.” - -The woman, thus reminded of her duty, hurried away amid the laughter of -the idlers, who, lounging against the outer walls or upon the stone -benches in the wide archway, exchanged quips and jests with Pedro, one -by one presently sauntering away to the different courtyards within the -hacienda walls or to their own homes in the grass-thatched village, -above which the great building rose at once overshadowingly and -protectingly. - -The stranger, thus doubtfully welcomed, urged his mule across the -threshold, throwing, as he entered, keen glances around the wide space -between the two arches, and beyond into the dim court; and especially -upon the rows of stuffed animals ranged on the walls, and upon the -enormous snakes pendent on either side the inner doorway, twining in -hideous folds above it, and even encircling the tawdry image of the -Virgin and child by which the arch was surmounted. These trophies, -brought in by the husbandmen and shepherds and prepared with no -unskilful hands, gave a grim aspect to the entrance of a house where -unstinted hospitality was dispensed, the sight of whose welcoming walls -cheered the wayfarer across many a weary league,—it being the only -habitation of importance to be seen on the extensive plain that lay -within the wide circle of hills which on either hand lay blue and sombre -in the distance. For a few moments, indeed, the western peaks had been -lighted up by the effulgence of the declining sun; the last rays -streamed into the vestibule as the traveller entered, then were suddenly -withdrawn, and the gray chill which fell upon the valley deepened to -actual duskiness in the court to which he penetrated. - -Careless glances followed him, as he rode across the broad flagging, -picking his way among the lounging herdsmen, who, leaning across their -horses, were recounting the adventures of the day or leisurely -unsaddling. He looked around him for a few moments, as if uncertain -where to go; but each one was too busy with his own affairs to pay any -attention to so humble a wayfarer. Nor, indeed, did he seem to care that -they should; on the contrary, he pulled his hat still further over his -brows, and with his dingy striped blanket thrown crosswise over his -shoulder and almost muffling his face, followed presently a confused -noise of horses and men, which indicated where the stables stood, and -disappeared within a narrow doorway leading to an inner court. - -Meanwhile, Tio Pedro, his hands on the gate, still stood exchanging the -last words of banter and gossip, idly delaying the moment of final -closure. Of all those human beings gathered there, perhaps no one of -them appreciated the magnificent and solemn grandeur by which they were -surrounded any more than did the cattle that lowed in the distance, or -the horses that ran whinnying to the stone walls of the enclosures, -snuffing eagerly the cool night air that came down from the hills, over -the clear stream which rippled under the shadow of the cottonwood trees, -across the broad fields of springing corn and ripening wheat, and -through the deep green of the plantations of chile and beans and the -scented orchards of mingled fruits of the temperate and torrid zones. -For miles it thus traversed the unparalleled fertility of the Bajio, -that Egypt of Mexico, which feeds the thousands who toil in her barren -hills for silver or who watch the herds that gather a precarious -subsistence upon her waterless plains, and which gives the revenues of -princes to its lordly proprietors, who scatter them with lavish hands in -distant cities and countries, and with smiling mockery dole the scant -necessities of life to the toiling thousands who live and die upon the -soil. - -Many are these fertile expanses, which, entered upon through some deep -and rugged defile, lie like amphitheatres inclosed by jagged and massive -walls of brescia and porphyry, that rise in a thousand grotesque shapes -above their bases of green,—at a near view showing all the varying -shades of gray, yellow, and brown, and in the distance deep purples and -blues, which blend into the clear azure of the sky. One of the most -beautiful of such spots is that in which lay the hacienda or estates of -the family of Garcia, and one of the most marvellously rich; for there -even the very rocks yield a tribute, the mine of the Three Brothers—the -“Tres Hermanos”—being one of those which at the Conquest had been given -as a reward to the daring adventurer Don Geronimo Garcia. It was -surrounded by rich lands, which unheeded by the earliest proprietors, -later yielded the most important returns to their descendants. But at -the time our story opens, the mines and mills of Tres Hermanos, though -they added a picturesque element to the landscape, had become a source -of perplexity and loss,—still remaining, however, in the opinion of -their owners, a proud adjunct to the vast stretches of field and orchard -which encircled them. - -The mines themselves lay in the scarred mountain against which the -reduction-works stood, a dingy mass of low-built houses and high adobe -walls, from the midst of which ascended the great chimney, whence clouds -of sulphurous smoke often rose in a black column against the sky. These -buildings made a striking contrast to the great house, which formed the -nucleus of the agricultural interests and was the chief residence of the -proprietors, and whose lofty walls rose proudly, forming one side of the -massive adobe square, which was broken at one corner by a box-towered -church and on another by a flour-mill. The wheels of this mill were -turned in the rainy season by the rapid waters of a mountain stream, -which lower down passed through the beautiful garden, the trees of which -waved above the fourth corner of the walls,—flowing on, to be almost -lost amid the slums and refuse of the reduction-works a half-mile away, -and during the nine dry months of the year leaving a chasm of loose -stones and yellow sand to mark its course. Along the banks were -scattered the huts of workmen, though, with strange perversity, the -greater number had clustered together on a sandy declivity almost in -front of the great house, discarding the convenience of nearness to wood -and water,—the men, perhaps, as well as the women, preferring to be -where all the varied life of the great house might pass before their -eyes, while custom made pleasant to its inmates the nearness of the -squalid village, with its throngs of bare-footed, half nude, and wholly -unkempt inhabitants. - -These few words of description have perhaps delayed us no longer than -Tio Pedro lingered at his task of closing the great doors for the night, -leaving however a little postern ajar, by which the tardy work-people -passed in and out, and at which the children boisterously played -hide-and-seek (that game of childhood in all ages and climes); and -meanwhile, as has been said, the traveller found and took his way to the -stables. Before entering, he paused a moment to pull the red -handkerchief that bound his head still further over his bushy black -brows, and to readjust his hat, and then went into the court upon which -the stalls opened. Finding none vacant in which to place his mule, he -tethered it in a corner of the crowded yard; and then, with many -reverences and excuses, such as rancheros or villagers are apt to use, -asked a feed of barley and an armful of straw from the “major-domo,” who -was giving out the rations for the night. - -“All in good time! All in good time, friend,” answered this functionary, -pompously but not unkindly. “He who would gather manna must wait -patiently till it falls.” - -“But I have a _real_ which I will gladly give,” interrupted the -ranchero. “Your grace must not think I presume to beg of your bounty. -I—” - -“Tut! tut!” interrupted the major-domo; “dost think we are shop-keepers -or Jews here at Tres Hermanos? Keep thy _real_ for the first beggar who -asks an alms;” and he drew himself up as proudly as if all the grain and -fodder he dispensed were his own personal property. “But,” he added, -with a curiosity that came perhaps from the plebeian suspicion -inseparable from his stewardship, “hast thou come far to-day? Thy beast -seems weary,—though as far as that goes it would not need a long stretch -to tire such a knock-kneed brute.” - -“I come from Las Vigas,” answered the traveller, doffing his hat at -these dubious remarks, as though they were highly complimentary. “Saving -your grace’s presence, the mule is a trusty brute, and served my father -before me; but like your servant, he is unused to long journeys,—this -being the first time we have been so far from our birthplace. Santo -Niño, but the world is great! Since noon have my eyes been fixed upon -the magnificence of your grace’s dwelling-place, and, by my faith, I -began to think it one of the enchanted palaces my neighbor Pablo -Arteaga, who travels to Guadalajara, and I know not where, to buy and -sell earthenware, tells of!” - -The major-domo laughed, not displeased with the homage paid to his -person and supposed importance, and suffering himself to be amused by -the villager’s unusual garrulity. Las Vigas he knew of as a tiny village -perched among the cliffs of the defile leading from Guanapila, whence -fat turkeys were taken to market on feast-days, when its few inhabitants -went down to hear Mass, and to turn an honest penny. They were a -harmless people, these poor villagers, and he felt a glow of charity as -if warmed by some personal gift, as he said, “Take a fair share of -barley and straw for thy beast, and when thou hast given it to him, -follow me into the kitchen, and thou shalt not lack a tortilla, nor -frijoles and chile wherewith to season it.” - -“May your grace live a thousand years!” began the villager, when the -major-domo interrupted him. - -“What is thy name? So bold a traveller must needs have a name.” - -“Surely,” answered the villager, gravely, “and Holy Church gave it to -me. Juan—Juan Planillos, at your service.” - -The major-domo started, laid his hand on the knife in his belt, then -withdrew it and laughed. “Truly a redoubtable name,” he exclaimed; then, -as they passed into another court over which the red light of charcoal -fires cast a lurid glare, illuminating fantastically the groups of men -who were crouching in various attitudes in the wide corridors, awaiting -or discussing their suppers, “I hope thou wilt prove more peaceful than -thy namesake: a very devil they say is he.” - -The villager looked at him stupidly, and then with interest at the women -who were doling from steaming shallow brown basins the rations of beans -and pork with red pepper,—a generous portion of which, at a sign from -the major-domo, was handed to the stranger, who looked around for a -convenient spot to crouch and eat it. - -The major-domo turned away abruptly, muttering, “Juan Planillos! Juan -Planillos! a good name to hang by. What animals these rancheros are! -Evidently he has never heard of the man that they say even Santa Anna -himself is afraid of. Well, well, Doña Isabel, I have obeyed your -commands! What can be the reason of this caprice for knowing the name -and business of every one who enters her gates? In the old time every -one might come and go unquestioned; but now I must describe the height -and breadth, the sound of the voice, the length of the nose even, of -every outcast that passes by.” - -He disappeared within another of the seemingly endless range of courts, -perhaps to discharge his duty of reporter, and certainly a little later, -in company with other employees of the estate, to partake of an ample -supper, and recount to Señor Sanchez the administrador, with many -variations reflecting greatly on his own wit and the countryman’s -stupidity, the interview he had held with the traveller from Las Vigas. -Any variation in the daily record of a country life is hailed with -pleasure, however trifling in itself it may be; and even Doña Feliz, the -administrador’s grave mother, listened with a smile, and did not disdain -to repeat the tale in her visit to her lady, Doña Isabel, which -according to her usual custom she made before retiring for the night. - -The apartments occupied by the administrador and his family were a part -of those which had been appropriated to the use of the proprietors and -rulers of this circle of homes within a home, which we have attempted to -describe. The staircase by which they were reached rose, indeed, from an -inferior court, but they were connected on the second floor by a -gallery; and thus the inhabitants of either had immediate access to the -other, although the privacy of the ruling family was most rigidly -respected; while at the same time its members were saved from the -oppression of utter isolation which their separation from the more -occupied portions of the building might have entailed. This was now the -more necessary, as one by one the gentlemen of the family had, for -various reasons or pretexts, gone to the cities of the republic, where -they spent the revenues produced by the hacienda in expensive living, -and Doña Isabel Garcia de Garcia,—still young, still eminently -attractive, though a widow of ten years standing,—was left with her -young daughters, not only to represent the family and dispense the -hospitality of Tres Hermanos, but to bear the burden of its management. - -She was a woman who, perhaps, would scarcely be commiserated in this -position. She was not, like most of her countrywomen, soft, indolent, -and amiable, a creature who loves rather than commands. A searching gaze -into the depths of her dark eyes would discover fires which seldom leapt -within the glance of a casual observer. Seemingly cold, impassive, grave -beyond her years, Doña Isabel wielded a power as absolute over her -domains as ever did veritable queen over the most devoted subjects. Yet -this woman, who was so rich, so powerful, upon the eve on which her -bounty had welcomed an unknown pauper to her roof, was less at ease, -more harassed, more burdened, as she stood upon her balcony looking out -upon the vast extent and variety of her possessions, than the poorest -peon who daily toiled in her fields. - -Her daughters were asleep, or reading with their governess; her -servants were scattered, completing the tasks of the day; behind her -stretched the long range of apartments throughout which, with little -attention to order, were scattered rich articles of furniture,—a grand -piano, glittering mirrors, valuable paintings, bedsteads of bronze -hung with rich curtains, services of silver for toilette and -table,—indiscriminately mixed with rush-bottomed chairs of home -manufacture, tawdry wooden images of saints, waxen and clay figures -more grotesque than beautiful, the whole being faintly illumined by -the flicker of a few candles in rich silver holders, black from -neglect. Doña Isabel stood with her back to them all, caring for -nothing, heeding nothing, not even the sense of utter weariness and -desolation which presently like a chill swept through the vast -apartments, and issuing thence, enwrapped her as with a garment. - -She leaned against the stone coping of the window. Her tall, slender -figure, draped in black, was sharply outlined against the wall, which -began to grow white in the moonlight; her profile, perfect as that of a -Greek statue unsharpened by Time yet firm as Destiny, was reflected in -unwavering lines as she stood motionless, her eyes turned upon the walls -of the reduction-works, her thoughts penetrating beyond them and -concentrating themselves on one whom she had herself placed within,—who, -successful beyond her hopes in the task for which she had selected him, -yet baffled and harassed her, and had planted a thorn in her side, which -at any cost must be plucked thence, must be utterly destroyed. - -The hour was still an early one, though where such primitive customs -prevailed it might well seem late to her when she left the balcony and -retired to her room, which was somewhat separated from those of the -other members of the family, though within immediate call. Soothed by -the cool air of the night, the peace that brooded over village and -plain, the solemn presence of the everlasting hills,—those voiceless -influences of Nature which she had inbreathed, rather than observed,—her -health and vigor triumphed over care, and she slept. - - - - - II. - -Meanwhile, the moon had risen and was flooding the broad roofs and -various courts of the great buildings with a silvery brilliancy, which -contrasted sharply with the inky shadows cast by moving creatures or -solid wall or massive column. While it was early in the evening, the -sound of voices was heard, mingling later with the monotonous minor -tones of those half-playful, half-pathetic airs so dear to the ear and -heart of the Mexican peasantry; but as night approached, silence -gradually fell upon the scene, broken only by the mutter or snore of -some heavy sleeper, or the stamping of the horses and mules in their -stalls. - -The new-comer Juan Planillos, who had joined readily in jest and -song,—though his wit was scarce bright enough, it seemed, to attract -attention to the speaker (while absolute silence certainly would have -done so),—at length, following the example of those around him, sought -the shaded side of the corridor, and wrapping himself in his striped -blanket lay down a little apart from the others, and was soon fast -asleep. - -Men who are accustomed to rise before or with the dawn sleep heavily, -seldom stirring in that deep lethargy which at midnight falls like a -spell on weary man and beast; yet it was precisely at that hour that -Juan Planillos, like a man who had composed himself to sleep with a -definite purpose to arise at a specified time, uncovered his face, -raised himself on his elbow, and glancing first at the sky (reading the -position of the moon and stars), threw then a keen glance at the -prostrate figures around him. The very dogs—of which, lean and mongrel -curs, there were many—like the men, fearing the malefic influences of -the rays of the moon, had retired under benches, and into the farthest -corners, and upon every living creature profound oblivion had fallen. - -It was some minutes before Planillos could thoroughly satisfy himself on -this point, but that accomplished, he rose to his feet, leaving the -sandals that he had worn upon the brick floor, and with extreme care -pushing open the door near which he had taken the precaution to station -himself, passed into the first and larger court, which he had entered -upon reaching the hacienda. As he had evidently expected, he found this -court entirely deserted, although in the vaulted archway at the farther -side he divined that the gate-keeper lay upon his sheepskin in the -little alcove beside the great door, of which he was the guardian. - -As he stepped into this courtyard, Juan Planillos paused to draw upon -his feet a pair of thin boots of yellow leather, so soft and pliable -that they woke no echo from the solid paving, and still keeping in the -shadow, he crossed noiselessly to a door set deep in a carved arch of -stone, and like one accustomed to its rude and heavy fastenings, deftly -undid the latch and looked into the court upon which opened the private -apartments of the family of Garcia. He stood there in the shadow of the -doorway, still dressed, it is true, in the ranchero’s suit,—a soiled -linen shirt open at the throat, over which was a short jacket of stained -yellow leather, while trousers of the same, opening upon the outside of -the leg to the middle of the thigh, over loose drawers of white cotton, -were bound at the waist by a scarf of silk which had once been bright -red; his blanket covered one shoulder; his brows were still circled by -the handkerchief, but he had pushed back the slouching hat, and the face -which he thrust forward as he looked eagerly around had undergone some -strange transformation, which made it totally unlike that of the stolid -mixed-breed villager who had talked with the major-domo a few hours -before. Even the features of the face seemed changed, the heavy -fleshiness of the ranchero had given place to the refinement and -keenness of the cavalier. The bushy brows were unbent, there was -intelligence and vivacity in his dark eyes, a half-mocking, half-anxious -smile upon his lips, which utterly changed the dull and ignorant -expression, and of the same flesh and blood made an absolutely new -creation. - -It was not curiosity that lighted the eyes as they glanced lingeringly -around, scanning the low chairs and tables scattered through the -corridor, resting upon the rose-entwined columns that supported it, and -then upon the fountain in the centre of the court, which threw a slender -column in the moonlight, and fell like a thousand gems into the basin -which overflowed and refreshed a vast variety of flowering shrubs that -encircled it. It was rather a look of pleased recognition, followed by a -sarcastic smile, as if he scorned a paradise so peaceful. There was -indeed in every movement of his well-knit figure, in the clutch of his -small but sinewy hand upon the door, something that indicated that the -saddle and sword were more fitting to his robust physique and fiery -nature than the delights of a lady’s bower. - -Nevertheless, he was about to enter, and had indeed made a hasty -movement toward the staircase that led to the upper rooms, when an -unexpected sound arrested him. Planillos drew back into the shadow and -listened eagerly, scarce crediting the evidence of his senses; gradually -he fell upon his knees, covering himself with his dingy blanket, -transforming himself into a dull clod of humanity, which under cover of -the black shadows would escape observation except of the most jealous -and critical eye. Yet this apparent clod was for the time all eyes and -ears. Presently the sound he had heard, a light tap on the outer door, -was repeated; a shrill call like that of a wild bird—doubtless a -pre-arranged signal—sounded, and in intense astonishment he waited -breathlessly for what should further happen. - -Evidently the gate-keeper was not unprepared, for the first wild note -caused him to raise his head sleepily, and at the second he staggered -from his alcove, muttering an imprecation, and fumbling in his girdle -for the key of the postern. He glanced around warily, even going softly -to places where the shadows fell most darkly; but finding no one, -returned, and with deft fingers proceeded to push back noiselessly the -bolts of the small door set in a panel of the massive one which closed -the wide entrance. It creaked slowly upon its hinges, so lightly that -even a bird would not have stirred in its slumbers, and a man cautiously -entered. He had spurs upon his heels, and after effecting his entrance -stooped to remove them, and Planillos had time and opportunity to see -that he was not one of Pedro Gomez’s associates,—not one of the common -people. - -The midnight visitor was tall and slender, the latter though, it would -seem, from the incomplete development of youth, rather than from -delicacy of race. The long white hand that unbuckled his spurs was -supple and large; his whole frame was modelled in more generous -proportions than are usually seen in the descendants of the Aztecs or -their conquerors. - -“Ingles,” thought Planillos, using a term which is indiscriminately -applied to English or Americans. “A man I dare vow it would be hard to -deal with in fair fight!” - -But evidently the Englishman, or American, was not there with any idea -of contest; a pistol gleamed in his belt, but its absence would have -been more noticeable than its presence,—it was worn as a matter of -course. For so young a man, in that country where every cavalier native -or foreign affected an abundance of ornament, his dress was singularly -plain,—black throughout, even to the wide hat that shaded his face, the -youthful bloom of which was heightened rather than injured by the -superficial bronze imparted by a tropical sun. - -Planillos had time to observe all this. Evidently the late-comer knew -his ground, and had but little fear of discovery. “A bold fellow,” -thought the watcher, “and fair indeed should be the Dulcinea for whom he -ventures so much. It must be the niece of Don Rafael, or perhaps the -governess—did I hear she was young?” - -But further speculation was arrested by the movements of the stranger, -who, after a moment’s parley with Pedro, came noiselessly but directly -toward the door near which Planillos was lying. - -Once within it, he paused to listen. Planillos expected him to make some -signal, and to see him joined by a veiled figure in the corridor, but to -his unbounded amazement and rage the intruder passed swiftly by the -fountain, under the great trees of bitter-scented oleanders and cloying -jasmine, and sprang lightly up the steps leading to the private -apartments. His foot was on the corridor, when Planillos, light as a -cat, leaped up the steep stair. His head had just reached the level of -the floor above, when with an absolute fury of rage he caught the -glimpse of a fair young face in the moonlight, and beheld the American -in the embrace of a beautiful girl. Instinct, rather than recognition, -revealed to his initiated mind the young heiress, Herlinda Garcia. -Absolutely paralyzed by astonishment and rage, for one moment dumb, -almost blinded, in the next he saw the closing of a heavy door divide -from his sight the lovers whom he was too late to separate. - -Too late? No! one blow from his dagger upon that closed door, one cry -throughout the sleeping house and the life of the man who had stolen -within would not be worth a moment’s purchase! It required all his -strength of will, a full realization of his own position, to prevent -Planillos from shouting aloud, from rushing to the door of Doña Isabel, -to beat upon it and cry, “Up! up! look to your daughter! See if there be -any shame like hers! see how your own child tramples upon the honor of -which you have so proudly boasted!” - -But he restrained himself, panting like a wild animal mad with -excitement. The thought of a more perfect, a more personal revenge -leaped into his mind, and silenced the cry that rose to his lips,—held -him from rushing down to plunge his dagger into the heart of the false -doorkeeper, completely obliterated even the remembrance of the purpose -for which he had ventured into a place deemed so sacred, so secure! and -sustained him through the long hour of waiting, the horrible intentness -of his purpose each moment growing more fixed, more definitely pitiless. - -For some time he stood rooted to the spot upon which he had made the -discovery which had so maddened him, but at last he crouched in the -shadow at the foot of the staircase; and scarcely had he done so, when -the man for whom he waited appeared at the top. He saw him wave his -hand, he even caught his whispered words, so acute were his senses: -“Never fear, my Herlinda, all will be well. I will protect you, my love! -In another week at most all this will be at an end. I shall be free to -come and go as I will!” - -“Free as air!” thought the man lying in the shadow, with grim humor, -even as he grasped his dagger. Crouching beneath his blanket he had -drawn from his brows the red kerchief. The veins stood black and swollen -upon his temples as the foreigner, waving a last farewell, descended the -stairs. He passed with drooping head, breathing at the moment a deep -sigh, within a hand’s breadth of an incarnate fiend. - -Ah, devoted youth! had thy guardian angel veiled her face that night? -Oh, if but at the last moment thy light foot would wake the echoes and -rouse the sleepers, already muttering in their dreams, as if conscious -that the dawn was near. But nothing happened; the whole world seemed -wrapped in oblivion as he bent over the gate-keeper, and with some -familiar touch aroused him. He stooped to put on his spurs, as Pedro -opened the postern, and instantly stepped forth, while the gate-keeper -proceeded to replace the fastenings. But as the man turned nervously, -with the sensation of an unexpected presence near him, he was absolutely -paralyzed with dismay. A livid face, in which were set eyes of lurid -blackness, looked down upon him with satanic rage. The bulk that towered -over him seemed colossal. “Mercy! mercy!” he ejaculated. “By all the -saints I swear—” - -“Let me pass!” hissed Planillos in a voice scarce above a whisper, but -which in its intensity sounded in the ears of Pedro like thunder. -“Villain, let me pass!” and he cast from him the terrified gate-keeper -as though he were a child, and rushed out upon the sandy slope which lay -between the great house and the village. He was not a moment too soon. -In the dim light he caught sight of the lithe figure of the foreigner, -as he passed rapidly over the rough ground skirting the village, the -better to escape the notice of the dogs, which, tired with baying the -moon, had at last sunk to uneasy slumbers. - -Planillos looked toward the moon, and cursed its rapid waning. The light -grew so faint he could scarce keep the young man in sight, as he -approached a tree where a dark horse was tied, which neighed as he drew -near. Planillos clutched his dagger closer; would the pursued spring -into his saddle, and thus escape, at least for that night? On the -contrary, he lingered, leaning against his horse, his eyes fixed on the -white walls of the house he had left. All unconscious of danger, he -stood in the full strength of manhood, with the serene influences of -Nature around him, his mind so rapt and tranced that even had his -pursuer taken no precaution in making his approach from shrub to shrub, -concealing his person as much as possible, he would probably have -reached his victim unnoticed. Within call slept scores of fellow-men; -behind him, scarce half a mile away, rose the walls and chimneys of his -whilom home; not ten minutes before he had said, “I shall be as safe on -the road as in your arms, my love!” He was absolutely unconscious of his -surroundings, lost in a blissful reverie, when with irresistible force -he was hurled to the ground; a frightful blow fell upon his side,—the -heavens grew dark above him. Conscious, yet dumb, he staggered to his -feet, only to be again precipitated to the earth; the dagger that at the -moment of attack had been thrust into his bosom, was buried to the hilt; -the blood gushed forth, and with a deep groan he expired. - -All was over in a few moments of time. John Ashley’s soul, with all its -sins, had been hurled into the presence of its Judge. The self-appointed -avenger staggered, gasping, against the tree; an almost superhuman -effort had brought a terrible exhaustion. Every muscle and nerve -quivered; he could scarcely stand. Yet thrusting from him with his foot -the dead body, he thirsted still for blood. “If I could but return and -kill that villain Pedro,” he hissed; “if his accursed soul could but -follow to purgatory this one I have already sent! But, bah! a later day -will answer for the dog! Ah, I am so spent a child might hold me; but,” -looking toward the mountains, “this horse is fresh and fleet. I shall be -safe enough when the first beam of the morning sun touches your lover’s -lips, Herlinda.” - -The assassin glanced from his victim toward the house he had left, with -a muttered imprecation; then, trembling still from his tremendous -exertions, he approached the steed, which, unable to break the lariat by -which it had been fastened, was straining and plunging, half-maddened, -after the confusion of the struggle, by the smell of blood already -rising on the air. - -Planillos possessed that wonderfully magnetic power over the brute -creation which is as potent as it is rare, and which on this occasion -within a few moments completely dominated and calmed the fright and fury -of the powerful animal, which he presently mounted, and which—though man -and horse shook with the violence of excitement and conflict—he managed -with the ease that denoted constant practice and superb horsemanship. -With a last glance at the murdered man, whom the darkness that precedes -the dawn scarce allowed him to distinguish from the shrubs around, he -put spurs to the restive steed, and galloped rapidly away. - - - - - III. - - -It is not to be supposed that this bloody deed occurred entirely -unsuspected. Pedro, the gate-keeper, lay half-stunned upon the stones -where he had been cast by the man who called himself Planillos, and -listened with strained ears to every sound. No indication of a struggle -reached him, but his horrified imagination formed innumerable pictures -of treacherous violence, in which one or the other of the men who had -left him figured as the victim. He dared give no alarm; indeed, at first -he was so unnerved by terror that he could neither stir nor speak. At -length, after what appeared to him hours but was in reality only a few -minutes, he heard the shrill neigh of the horse and the sound of rearing -and plunging, followed by the dull thud of retreating footsteps and -shrill whistles in challenge and answer from the watchmen upon the -hacienda roof, who, however, took no further steps toward investigating -what they supposed to be a drunken brawl which had taken place, almost -out of hearing and quite out of sight, and which therefore, as they -conceived, could in no wise endanger the safety or peace of the -hacienda. - -Their signals, however, served to arouse Pedro, who shaking in every -limb, his brain reeling, his heart bursting with apprehension, crawled -to the postern, and after many abortive efforts managed to secure the -bolts. He then staggered to the alcove in which he slept, and searching -beneath the sheepskin mat which served for his bed, found a small flask -of _aguardiente_, and taking a deep draught of the fiery liquor, little -by little recovered his outward composure. - -For that night, however, sleep no more visited his eyes; and he spent -the hour before dawn in making to himself wild excuses for his treason, -in wilder projects for flight, and in mentally recapitulating his sins -and preparing himself for death; so it can readily be imagined that it -was a haggard and distraught countenance that he thrust forth from the -postern at dawn, when with the first streak of light came a crowd of -excited villagers to the gate, to beat upon it wildly, and with hoarse -groans and cries to announce that Don Juan had been found murdered under -a mesquite tree. - -“Impossible! Ye are mad! Anselmo, thou art drunk, raving!” stammered -forth the gate-keeper. “Don Juan is is at the reduction-works!” - -“Thou liest!” cried an excited villager; “he is in purgatory. God help -him! Holy angels and all saints pray for him!” - -“Ave Maria! Mother of Sorrows, by the five wounds of thy Son, intercede -for him!” cried a chorus of women, wringing their hands and -gesticulating distractedly. - -“Open the gate, Pedro!” demanded the throng without, by this time almost -equalled by that within, through which the administrador, Don Rafael -Sanchez, was seen forcing his way, holding high the great keys of the -main door. He was a small man, with a pale but determined face, before -whom the crowd fell back, ceasing for a moment their incoherent -lamentations, while he assisted Pedro to unlock and throw open the -doors. - -“Good heavens, man, are you mad?” he exclaimed, as Pedro darted from his -side and rushed toward the group of rancheros, who, bearing between them -a recumbent form, were slowly approaching the hacienda. “Ah! ah, that is -right,” as he saw that Pedro, with imperative gestures and a few -expressive words, had induced the bearers to turn and proceed with the -body toward the reduction-works; “better there than here. What could -have induced him to roam about at night? I have told him a score of -times his foolhardiness would be the death of him;” and with these and -similar ejaculations Don Rafael hastened to join the throng which were -soon pouring into the gates of the reduction-works. - -Meanwhile from within the great house came the cries of women, above -which rose one piercing shriek; but few were there to hear it, for in -wild excitement men, women, and children followed the corpse across the -valley and thronged the gates of the works which were closed in their -faces, or surrounded with gaping looks, wild gesticulations, and -meaningless inquiries, the tree beneath which the murdered man had been -found, thus completely obliterating the signs of the struggle and flight -of the murderer even while most eagerly seeking them. - -John Ashley had been an alien and a heretic. No longer ago than -yesterday there had been many a lip to murmur at his foreign ways. In -all the history of the mining works never had there been known a master -so exacting with the laborer, so rigorous with the dishonest, so harsh -with the careless; yet he had been withal as generous and just as he was -severe. The people had been ready to murmur, yet in their secret hearts -they had respected and even loved the young _Americano_, who knew how to -govern them, and to gain from them a fair amount of work for a fair and -promptly paid wage; and who, from a half ruinous, ill-managed source of -vexation and loss, was surely but slowly evolving order and the promise -of prosperity. - -The bearers and the crowd of laborers belonging to the reduction-works -were admitted with their burden, and as they passed into the large and -scantily-furnished room which John Ashley had called his own, they -reverently pulled off their wide, ragged straw hats, and many a lip -moved in prayer as the people, for a moment awed into silence, crowded -around to view the corpse, which had been laid upon a low narrow bed -with the striped blanket of a laborer thrown over it. As the coarse -covering was thrown back, a woful sight was seen. The form of a man -scarce past boyhood, drenched from breast to feet in blood, yet still -beautiful in its perfect symmetry. The tall lithe figure, the straight -features, the downy beard shading cheeks and lips of adolescent -softness, the long lashes of the eyelids now closed forever, and the -fair curls resting upon the marble brow, all showed how comely he had -been. The women burst into fresh lamentations, the men muttered threats -of vengeance. But who was the murderer? Ay, there was the mystery. - -“He has a mother far off across the sea,” said a woman, brokenly. - -“Ay, and sisters,” added another; “he bade us remember them when we -drank to his health on his saint’s day. ‘In my country we keep -birthdays,’ he said (I suppose, poor gentleman, he meant the saints had -never learned his barbarous tongue); and then he laughed. ‘But saint’s -day or birthday, it is all the same; I’m twenty-three to-day.’” - -“Yes, ’twas twenty-three he said,” confirmed another; “and do you -remember how he reddened and laughed when I told him he was old enough -to think of wedding?” - -“But vexed enough,” added another, “when I repeated our old proverb, -‘Who goes far to marry, goes to deceive or be deceived.’ I meant no ill, -but he turned on me like a hornet. But, poor young fellow, all his quick -tempers are over now; he’ll be quiet enough till the Judgment day—cursed -be the hand that struck him!” - -“Come, come!” suddenly broke in Don Rafael, “no more of this chatter; -clear the room for the Señor Alcalde,” and with much important bustle -and portentous gravity the official in question entered. He had in fact -been one of the first to hasten to the scene of the murder, for the time -forgetting the dignity of his position, of which in his ragged -_frazada_, his battered straw hat, and unkempt locks, there was little -to remind either himself or his fellow villagers. However, on the -alcalde being called for, he immediately dropped his _rôle_ of idle -gazer, and proceeded with the most stately formality to the -reduction-works. After viewing the dead body, he made most copious notes -of the supposed manner of assassination, which were chiefly remarkable -in differing entirely from the reality; and he gave profuse orders for -the following of the murderer or murderers, delivering at the same time -to Don Rafael Sanchez the effects of the deceased, for safe keeping and -ultimate transmission to the relatives, meanwhile delivering himself of -many sapient remarks, to the great edification of his hearers. - -It appeared upon examination of various persons connected with the -reduction-works that the young American had been in the habit of riding -forth at night, sometimes attended by a servant, but often alone, -spending hours of the beautiful moonlight in exploring the deep cañons -of the mountains, having, seemingly, a peculiar love for their wild -solitudes and an utter disregard of danger. More than once when he had -ventured forth alone, the gate-keeper or clerk had remonstrated, but he -had laughed at their fears; and in fact it was the mere habit of caution -that had suggested them, the whole country being at that time remarkably -free from marauders, and the idea that John Ashley—almost a stranger, so -courteous, so well liked by inferiors, as well as by those who called -themselves his equals or superiors—should have a personal enemy had -never entered the mind of even the most suspicious. But for once the -cowards were justified; the brave man had fallen, the days of his young -and daring life were ended. - -The alcalde and Don Rafael were eloquent in grave encomiums of his worth -and regret for his folly, as they at last left the reduction-works -together. They had agreed that a letter must be written to the American -consul in the city of Mexico, with full particulars, and that he should -be asked to communicate the sad event to the family of the deceased; but -as several days, or even weeks, must necessarily elapse before he could -be heard from, it was decided that the murdered man should be buried -upon the following day. To wait longer was both useless and unusual. And -so, these matters being satisfactorily arranged, the alcalde and -administrador, both perhaps ready for breakfast, parted. - -The latter at the gate of the hacienda met the major-domo, who whispered -to him mysteriously, and finally led him to the courtyard, where the -forsaken mule was munching his fodder. A pair of sandals lay there. -Pedro, had he wished, could have shown a striped blanket and hat that he -had picked up near the gateway and concealed; but the mule and sandals -were patent to all. - -“Well, what then?” cried Don Rafael, impatiently, when he had minutely -inspected them, turning the sandals with his foot as he stared at the -animal. - -“Oh, nothing,” answered the major-domo; “I am perhaps a fool, but the -ranchero is gone.” - -Don Rafael started—fell into a deep study—turned away—came back, and -laid his hand upon the major-domo’s arm. This was the first suggestion -that had been advanced of the possibility of the murderer having sought -his victim from within the walls of the great house. “_Silencio!_” he -said; “what matters it to us how the man died? There is more in this -than behooves you or me to meddle with.” - -The two men looked at each other. “Why disturb the Señora Doña Isabel -with such matters? The American is dead. The ranchero can be nothing to -her,” said Don Rafael, sententiously. “He who gives testimony unasked -brings suspicion upon himself. No, no! leave the matter to his -countrymen; they have a consul here who has nothing to do but inquire -into such matters.” - -“True, true! and one might as well hope to find again the wildbird -escaped from its cage, as to see that Juan Planillos! God save us! if he -was indeed the true Juan Planillos!” and the mystified major-domo -actually turned pale at the thought. “They say he is more devil than -man; that would explain how he got out of the hacienda, for Pedro Gomez -swears he let no man pass, either out or in.” - -Don Rafael had his own private opinion about that, and of whom the -disguised visitor might be. Yet why should he have attacked the -American? Had Ashley too been within the walls,—and for what purpose? -These questions were full of deep and startling import, and again -impressing upon his subordinate that endless trouble might be avoided by -a discreet silence, he walked thoughtfully away, those vague suspicions -and conjectures taking definite shape in his mind. He went to the gate -with some design of warily questioning Pedro, but the man was not there; -for once, friend or foe might go in or out unnoticed. But it was a day -of disorder, and Don Rafael could readily divine the excuse for the -gate-keeper’s neglect of duty. Remembering that he had not broken his -fast that day, he went to his own rooms for the morning chocolate; and -from thence he presently saw Pedro emerge from the opposite court, and -with bowed head and reluctant steps repair to his wonted post. Don -Rafael Sanchez knew his countrymen, especially those of the lower class, -too well to hasten to him and ply him with inquiries as he longed to do. -He knew too well the value of patience, and more than once had found it -golden. Rita, his young wife, had come to him, and through her tears and -ejaculations was relating the account of the murder the servants had -brought to her, which was as wild and improbable as the reality had -been, though not more ghastly, when a servant entered with a hasty -message from Doña Isabel. - - - - - IV. - - -While the discovery of the murder had caused this wild excitement -outside the walls of the hacienda, a far different scene was being -enacted within. Mademoiselle La Croix, the governess of the two sisters -Herlinda and Carmen Garcia, had arisen early, leaving her youngest -charge asleep, and, hurriedly donning her dressing-gown, hastened to the -adjoining apartment, where Herlinda was enjoying that deep sleep which -comes to young and healthy natures with the dawn, rounding and -completing the hours of perfect rest, which youthful activity both of -body and mind so imperatively demands. - -A beautiful girl, between fifteen and sixteen, in her perfect -development of figure, as well as in the pure olive tints of her -complexion, revealing her Castilian descent,—Herlinda Garcia lay upon -the white pillows shaded by a canopy of lace, one arm thrown above her -head, the other, bare to the elbow, thrown across a bosom that rose and -fell with each breath she drew, with the regularity of perfect content. -Yet she opened her eyes with a start, and uttered an exclamation of -alarm, as Mademoiselle La Croix lightly touched her, saying half -petulantly, as she turned away, “Oh, Mademoiselle, why have you wakened -me? I was so happy just then! I was dreaming of John!” - -She spoke the English name with an indescribable accent of tenderness, -but Mademoiselle La Croix repeated it after her almost sharply. - -“John! yes,” she said, “it is no wonder he is always in your thoughts; -as for me, Heaven knows what will happen to me! I am sure, had I known—” -and the Frenchwoman paused, to wipe a tear from her eye. - -“Ah, yes, it was thoughtless, cruel of us!” interrupted Herlinda, -penitently, yet scarcely able to repress a smile as her glance fell upon -the gayly flowered dressing-gown which formed an incongruous wrapping -for the thin, bony figure of the governess; “but, dear Mademoiselle, -nothing worse than a dismissal can happen to you, and you know John has -promised—” - -The governess drew herself up with portentous dignity. “Mademoiselle -wanders from the point,” she interrupted; “it is of herself only I was -thinking. This state of affairs must be brought to a close,” she added -solemnly, after a pause. “At all risks, Herlinda, John must claim you.” - -“So he knows, so I tell him,” answered Herlinda, suddenly wide awake, -and ceasing the pretty yawns and stretchings with which she had -endeavored to banish her drowsiness. “Oh, Mademoiselle,” a shade of -apprehension passing over her face, “I have done wrong, very wrong. My -mother will never forgive me!” - -“Absurd!” ejaculated the governess. “Doña Isabel, like every one else in -the world, must submit to the inevitable.” - -“So John said; but, Mademoiselle, neither you nor John know my mother, -nor my people. She will never forgive: in her place, I would never -forgive!” - -“And yet you dared!” cried Mademoiselle La Croix, looking at the young -girl with new admiration at the courage which stimulated her own. -“Truly, you Mexicans are a strange people, so generous in many things, -so blind and obstinate in others. Well, well! you shall find, Herlinda, -I too can be brave. If I were a coward, I should say, wait until I am -safely away; but I am no coward,” added the little woman, drawing her -figure to its full height and expanding her nostrils,—“I am ready to -face the storm with you.” - -“Yes, yes!” said the young girl, hurriedly and abstractedly. “What,” she -added, rising in her bed, and grasping the bronze pillar at the head, -“what is that I hear? What a confusion of voices!” She turned deadly -pale, and her white-robed figure shook beneath the long loose tresses of -her coal-black hair. “My God! Mademoiselle, I hear his name!” - -The governess too grew pale, though she began incoherently to reassure -the young lady, who remained kneeling in the bed as if petrified, her -hands clasped to her breast, her eyes strained, listening intently, as -through the thick walls came the dull murmur of many voices. Like waves -they seemed to surge and beat against the solid stones, and the vague -roar forced itself into the words, “Don Juan! Ashley!” - -Although a moment’s reflection would have reminded her that a hundred -other events, rather than that of his death, might have brought the -people there to call upon the name of their master, one of those flashes -of intuition which appear magnetic revealed to Herlinda the awful truth, -even before it was borne to her outward ear by the shrill voice of a -woman, crying through the corridor, “God of my life! Don Juan is killed! -murdered! murdered!” She even stopped to knock upon the door and -reiterate the words, in the half-horrified, half-pleasurable excitement -the vulgar often feel in communicating dreadful and unexpected news; but -a wild shriek from within suddenly checked her outcry, and chilled her -blood. - -“Fool that I am! I should have remembered,” she muttered. “Paqua told me -there was certainly love between those two; she saw the glance he threw -on the young Señorita in church one day. But that was months ago, and -she certainly is to marry Don Vicente.” - -At that moment a middle-aged, plainly-dressed woman, with the blue and -white reboso so commonly worn thrown over her head, entered the -corridor. Her figure was so commanding, the glance of her eyes so -impressive, that even in her haste she lost none of her habitual -dignity. The woman turned away, glad to escape with the reproof, “Cease -your clamor, Refugio! What! is your news so pressing that you must needs -frighten your young mistress with it? Go, go! Doña Isabel will be little -likely to be pleased with your zeal.” - -The woman hastened away, and Doña Feliz, waiting until she had -disappeared, laid her hand upon the door of Herlinda’s chamber, which -like those of many sleeping apartments in the house opened directly upon -the upper corridor, its massive thickness and strength being looked upon -as more than sufficient to repel any danger which could in the wildest -probability reach it from the well guarded interior of the fort-like -building. - -As Doña Feliz touched the latch, the door was opened by the affrighted -governess, who had anticipated the entrance of Doña Isabel. The respite -unnerved her, and she threw herself half fainting in a chair, as -Herlinda seized the new-comer by the shoulders, gasping forth, “Feliz, -Feliz, tell me! tell me it is not true! He is not dead! dead! dead!” her -voice rising to a shriek. - -“Hush! hush, Herlinda! O God, my child, what can this be to thee?” Doña -Feliz shuddered as she spoke. She glanced at the closed window; the -walls she knew to be a yard in thickness, yet she wished them double, -lest a sound of these wild ravings should escape. - -“Feliz, you dare not tell me!—then it is true! he is murdered! lost, -lost to me forever!” The young girl slipped like water through the arms -that would have clasped her, crouching upon the floor, wringing her -hands, tearless, voiceless, after her last despairing words. Feliz -attempted to raise her, but in vain. - -Carmen, aroused by the sounds of distress, appeared in the doorway which -connected the two rooms. “Back! go back!” cried Doña Feliz, and the -child frightened and whimpering, withdrew. Feliz turned to the -governess,—the deep dejection of her attitude struck her; and at that -moment Doña Isabel appeared. - -“Herlinda,” she began, “this is sad news; but remember—” she paused, -looked with stern disapprobation, then her superb self-possession giving -way, she rushed to her daughter and clasped her arm. “Rise! rise!” she -cried; “this excess of emotion shames you and me. This is folly. Rise, I -say! He could never have been anything, child, to thee!” - -Herlinda did not move, she did not even look up. She had always feared -her mother; had trembled at her slightest word of blame; had been like -wax under her hand. Yet now she was as marble; her hands had dropped on -her lap; she was rigid to the touch; only the deep moans that burst from -her white lips proved that she lived. - -The attitude was expressive of such utter despair that it was of itself -a revelation; and presently the moans formed themselves into words: “My -God! my God! I am undone! he is dead! he is dead!” - -The words bore a terrible significance to the listeners. Doña Isabel -turned her eyes upon Feliz, and read upon her face the thought that had -forced its way to her own mind. Her face paled; she dropped her -daughter’s arm and drew back. The act itself was an accusation. Perhaps -the girl felt it so. She suddenly wrung her hands distractedly, and -sprang to her feet, exclaiming, “My husband! my husband! Let me go to -him! he cannot be dead! he is not dead!” - -The words “My husband” fell like a thunderbolt among them. Herlinda had -rushed to the door, but Doña Feliz caught her in her strong arms, and -forced her back. “Tell us what you mean!” she ejaculated; while the -frightened governess plucked her by the sleeve, reiterating again and -again, “Pardon! pardon! entreat your mother’s pardon!” - -But the terrible turn affairs had taken had driven the thought of -pardon, or the need of it, from her mind. “I tell you I am his wife! Ah, -you think that cannot be, but it is true; the Irish priest married us -four months ago in Las Parras. Let me go, Feliz, let me go! I am his -wife!” - -“This is madness!” interrupted Doña Isabel, in a voice of such -preternatural calmness that her daughter turned as if awestricken to -look at her. “Unhappy girl, you cannot have been that man’s wife. You -have been betrayed! Child! child! the house of Garcia is disgraced!” - -A chill fell upon the governess, yet she spoke sharply, almost pertly: -“Not disgraced by Herlinda, Madame. She was indeed married to John -Ashley, in the parish church of Las Parras, by the missionary priest, -Father Magauley.” - -The long, slow glance of incredulity changing into deepest scorn which -Doña Isabel turned upon the governess seemed to scorch, to wither her. -She actually cowered beneath it, faltering forth entreaties for pardon, -rather, be it said to her honor, for the unhappy Herlinda than for -herself. Meanwhile, with lightning rapidity, the events of the last few -months passed through the mind of Doña Isabel. Yes, yes, it had been -possible; there had been opportunity for this base work. Her eyes -clouded, her breast heaved; had she held a weapon in her hand, the -intense passion that possessed her might have sought a method more -powerful than words in finding for itself expression. As it was, she -turned away, sick at heart, her brain afire. Doña Feliz had placed a -strong, firm hand over Herlinda’s lips. “It is useless,” she said in a -voice like Fate. “You will never see him again.” - -Herlinda comprehended that those words but expressed the unspoken fiat -of her mother. She shuddered and groaned. “Mother! mother!” she said -faintly, “he loved me. I loved him so, mother! Mother, I have spoken the -truth; Mademoiselle will tell you all; I was indeed his wife.” - -Doña Isabel would not trust herself to look at her daughter. She dared -not, so strong at that moment was her resentment of her daring, so deep -the shame of its consequences. “Vile woman!” she said to the governess, -in low, penetrating tones of concentrated passion; “you who have avowed -yourself the accomplice of yon dead villain, tell me all. Let me know -whether you were simply treacherously ignorant, or treacherously base. -Silence, Herlinda! nor dare in my presence shed one tear for the wretch -who betrayed you.” - -But her commands were unheeded. The present anguish overcame the habits -and fears of a whole life,—as, alas! a passionate love had once before -done. But then she had been under the domination of her lover, and had -been separated from the mother, whose very shadow would have deterred -and prevented her. Now, even the deep severity of that mother’s voice -fell on unheeding ears. Though tears came not, piteous groans, mingled -with the name of her love, burst from the heart of the wretched girl, -who leaned like a broken lily upon the breast of Doña Feliz, who from -the moment that Herlinda had declared herself a wife gazed upon her with -looks of deep compassion, alternating with those of anxious curiosity -toward Doña Isabel, whose every glance she had learned to interpret. She -was a woman of great intelligence, yet it appeared to her as though Doña -Isabel, who was queen and absolute mistress on her own domain, had but -to speak the word and set her daughter in any position she might claim. -The supremacy of the Garcias was her creed,—that by which she had lived; -was it to be contradicted now? - -“Tell me all,” reiterated Doña Isabel, in the concentrated voice of deep -and terrible passion, as the cowering governess vainly strove to frame -words that might least offend. “How did this treachery occur? Where and -how did you give that fellow opportunity to compass his base designs?” - -Herlinda started; she would have spoken, but Doña Feliz restrained her -by the strong pressure of her arm; and the faltering voice of the -governess attempted some explanation and justification of an event, -which, almost unparalleled in Mexico, could not have been foreseen -perhaps even by the jealous care of the most anxious mother. - -“This is all I have to tell,” she stammered. “You remember you sent us -to Las Parras six months ago, just after you had refused your daughter’s -hand to John Ashley, and promised it to Vicente Gonzales. We remained -there in exile nearly two months. Herlinda was wretched. What was there -to console or enliven her in that miserable village? Separated from her -sister, from you, Madame, whom she deeply loved even while she feared, -what had she to do but nurse her grief and despair, which grew daily -stronger on the food of tears and solitude? At first she was too proud -to speak to me of that which caused her sleepless nights and unhappy -days. But my looks must have expressed the pity I felt. She threw -herself into my arms one day, and sobbed out her sad tale upon my bosom. -She had spoken to this Ashley but a few times, and then in your -presence, Madame; but in your country the eye seems the messenger of -love. She declared that she could not live, she would not, were she -separated from John Ashley; that the day of her marriage with Vicente -Gonzales should be the day of her death.” - -“To the point,” interrupted Doña Isabel in an icy tone. “I had heard all -this. Even in John Ashley’s very presence Herlinda had forgotten her -dignity and mine. This is not what I would know.” - -“But it leads to it, Madame,” cried the governess, deprecatingly, “for -while I was in the state of mingled pity and perplexity caused by -Herlinda’s words, a message was brought to me that John Ashley was at -the door. I went to speak to him. Yielding to his entreaties, I even -allowed him to see Herlinda. How could I guess it was to urge a course -which only the most remarkable combination of events could have made -possible?” - -“Intrigante,” muttered Doña Isabel, bitterly. - -“You,” continued the governess, piqued and emboldened by the adjective, -“angered by the sight of him as you passed the reduction-works, had -yourself invented a pretext for sending him to San Marcos. You could not -well dismiss him altogether from a position he filled so well. He might, -you thought, reveal the reason.” - -“Deal not with my motives,” interrupted the lady haughtily. “It is true -I sent him to San Marcos. And what then?” - -“Then, by chance, he learned what here no servant had dared to tell -him,—the name of the village to which Herlinda had been sent, so near -your own hacienda, too, that he had never once suspected it. And there -he met a countryman. These English, Irish, Americans,—they are all bound -together by a common language; and he, this poor priest, entirely -ignorant of Spanish, coldly received even by his clerical brethren, was -glad to spend a few days in a trip with Ashley; and as they rode -together over the thirty leagues of mountain and valley between San -Marcos and Las Parras, he formed a great liking for the pleasant youth, -and beyond gently rallying him, made no opposition to staying over a -night in the village, and joining him in holy matrimony to the woman of -his choice, whom he imagined to be a poor but pretty peasant, so modest -were our surroundings.” - -Doña Isabel’s face darkened. “Hasten! hasten!” she muttered. “I see it -all; deluded, unhappy girl.” - -“Unhappy, yes!” cried the governess. “Prophetic were the tears that -coursed over her cheeks, as she went with me to the chapel in the early -morning, and there in the presence of a few peasants who had never seen -her before, or failed to recognize her under the dingy reboso she wore, -was married to the young American.” - -“Ignorant imbeciles!” ejaculated Doña Isabel, but so low that no one -distinctly caught her words. “And this _marriage_ as you call it, in -what language was it performed?” - -“Oh, in English,” answered Mademoiselle La Croix, readily. “The priest -knew no other. Immediately after the ceremony the bell sounded, the -groom and bride separated, the people streamed in, and Holy Mass was -celebrated, thus consecrating the marriage. Reassure yourself, Doña -Isabel, all was right; the good priest gave a certificate in due form, -which doubtless will be found among John Ashley’s papers.” - -In spite of the stony yet furious gaze with which Doña Isabel had -listened to these particulars, the governess had gathered confidence as -she proceeded, and ended with a feeling that the most jealous doubter -must be convinced, the most inveterate opponent silenced. - -But far otherwise was the effect of her narrative upon Doña Isabel; she -had been deceived by her own daughter, befooled by her hirelings. Her -keen intelligence declared to her at once the fatal irregularity of the -ceremony. It indeed vindicated the purity of Herlinda, but could it save -her from dishonor? Thoughts of vague yet terrible meaning tormented her. -The horrors of a past day returned with fresh complications to menace -and torture her; and even had it been possible at that moment for her by -one word to prove her daughter the honorable widow of John Ashley, it -would have caused her a thousand pangs to have uttered it; and could one -single word have brought him to life, she would have condemned herself -to perpetual dumbness. A frenzy of shame and baffled intents possessed -her. But her thoughts were not of these. She knew that this marriage as -it stood was void; it met the requirements of neither Church nor State. -Yet—yet—yet—there were possibilities: her family were powerful, her -wealth was great. - -Doña Feliz watched her with deep, inquiring eyes. Her child stood there, -a voiceless pleader, her utter abandonment of grief appealing to the -heart of the mother; but between them was an impregnable wall of pride -and a cloud of possibilities which confused and distracted her. She came -to no determination, made no resolve, but clasping her hands over her -eyes, stood as if a gulf had opened in her path,—from which she could -not turn, and over which she dared not pass. Slowly, at last, she -dropped her arms, resumed her usual aspect of composure, and passed from -the room. For some moments the little group she had left remained -motionless. A profound stillness reigned throughout the house. Time -itself seemed arrested, and the one word breathed through the silence -seemed to describe the whole world to those within the walls,—“dead! -dead! dead!” - - - - - V. - - -As Doña Isabel Garcia turned from her daughter’s apartment, she stepped -into a corridor flooded with the dazzling sunshine of a perfect morning, -and as she passed on in her long black dress, the heavily beamed roof -interposing between her uncovered head and the clear and shining blue of -the sky, there was something almost terrible in the stony gaze with -which she met the glance of the woman-servant who hurried after her to -know if she would as usual break her fast in the little arbor near the -fountain. It terrified the woman, who drew back with a muttered “Pardon, -Señora!” as the lady swept by her, and entered her own chamber. - -The volcano of feeling which surged within her burst forth, not in sobs -and cries, not in passionate interjections, but in the tones of absolute -horror in which she uttered the two names that had severally been to her -the dearest upon earth,—“Leon!” and “Herlinda!” and which at that moment -were equally synonymous of all most terrible, most dreaded, and were the -most powerful factors amid the love, the honor, the pride, the passions -and prejudices which controlled her being. - -For a time she stood in the centre of her apartment, striking -unconsciously with her clenched hand upon her breast blows that at -another time would have been keenly felt, but the swelling emotions -within rendered her insensible to mere bodily pain. Indeed, as the -moments passed it brought a certain relief; and as her walking to and -fro brought her at last in front of the window which opened upon the -broad prospect to the west, she paused, and looked long and fixedly -toward the reduction-works, as if her vision could penetrate the stone -walls, and read the mind which had perished with the man who lay -murdered within them. - -As she stood thus, she presently became aware that a sound which she had -heard without heeding,—as one ignores passing vibrations upon the air, -that bring no special echo of the life of which we are active, conscious -parts,—was persistently striving to make itself heard; and with an -effort she turned to the door, upon which fell another timid knock, and -bade the suppliant enter; for the very echo of his knocking proclaimed a -suppliant. She started as her eyes fell upon the haggard face of Pedro -the gate-keeper. - -He entered almost stealthily, closing the door softly behind him. -“Señora,” he whispered, coming up to her quite closely, extending his -hands in a deprecating way, “Señora, by the golden keys of my patron, I -swear to you I was powerless. Don Juan told me he had your Grace’s own -authority; he told me they were married!” - -Doña Isabel started. In the same sentence the man had so skilfully -mingled truth and falsehood that even she was deceived. By representing -to his mistress that Ashley had used her name to gain entrance to the -hacienda, he had hoped to divert her anger from himself,—and what matter -though it fell unjustly upon the dead man? But in fact the second phrase -of the sentence, “He told me they were married,” was what struck most -keenly upon the ear of Doña Isabel, and chilled her very blood. How -much, then, did this servant know? How far was she in his power? Until -that moment she had not known—had not suspected—that the murdered man -and the murderer had been within the walls of the hacienda buildings. -This knowledge but confirmed her intuitions! Partly to learn facts which -might guide her, and partly to gain time, she looked with her coldest, -most petrifying gaze upon the man, and asked him what he meant, and bade -him tell her all, even as he would confess to the priest, for so only he -might hope to escape her most severe displeasure. - -As she spoke, she had glided behind him and slipped the bolt of the -door, and stood before the solid slab of unpolished but time-darkened -cedar, a very monument of wrath. Pedro trembled more than ever, but was -not for that the less consistent in his tale of mingled truth and -falsehood. He had begun it with the name “The Señorita Herlinda,” but -Doña Isabel stopped him with a portentous frown. - -“Her name,” she said, “my daughter’s name need not be mentioned. She -knows nothing of the woman John Ashley came here to see, if there is -one; the Señorita Herlinda has nothing to do with her, nor with your -tale. Proceed.” - -Pedro, not so deeply versed in the dissimulation of the higher class as -was Doña Isabel in that of the lower, looked at her a moment in utter -incredulity. He learned nothing from her impassive face, but with the -quickwittedness of his race divined that one of the many dark-eyed -damsels who served in the house was to be considered the cause of -Ashley’s midnight visits. In that light, his own breach of trust seemed -more venial. Unconsciously, he shaped his story to that end, and even -took to himself a sort of comfort in feigning to believe, what in his -heart he knew to be an assumption—whether merely verbal or actual he -knew not—of Doña Isabel. - -The arguments by which he had been induced by Ashley to open the doors -of the hacienda for his midnight admittance he would have dwelt on at -some length, but Doña Isabel stopped him. “Tell me only of what happened -last night,” she said; and in a low whisper he obeyed, shuddering as he -spoke of the man whom he had admitted under the guise of a peasant, and -who had rushed out to encounter the devoted American, as a madman or -wild beast might rush upon its prey. - -At his description, eloquent in its brevity, Doña Isabel for a moment -lost her calmness; her face dropped upon her hands; her figure shrank -together. - -“Pedro!” she murmured, “Pedro! you knew him? You are certain?” she -continued in a low, eager voice. - -“Certain, Señora! Should I be likely to be mistaken? I, who have held -him upon my knees a thousand times; who first taught him to ride; who -saw him when—” - -Doña Isabel stopped the enumeration with a gesture. She paused a moment -in deep thought; then she extended her hand, and the man bent over it, -not daring to touch it, but reverently, as if it were that of a queen or -a saint. - -“Silence, Pedro!” she said. “Silence! One word, and the law would be -upon him,—though God knows there should be no law to avenge these false -Americans, who respect neither authority nor hospitality, and would take -our very country from us. Pedro, this deed must not bring fresh -disaster; ’t was a mistake; but as you live, as I pardon you the share -you bore in it, keep silence!” - -The words were not an entreaty; they were a command. Doña Isabel -understood too well the ascendency which as lords of the soil the -Garcias held over all who had been born and bred on their estates, to -take the false step of lessening it by any act of weakness. She -comprehended that that very ascendency had led him to open the gates to -the declared husband of Herlinda—ay! as to her lover he would have -opened them. It was the _house_ of Garcia he served, as represented by -the individual possessing the dominant influence of the hour. As -occasion offered, he and his associates would have favored the interests -of any member in affairs of love, believing the intrigue the natural -pleasure of youth, and conceiving it presumption to impugn the actions -of one of the seigneurial family. - -Doña Isabel became, at this time, when the terrible consequences of his -levity overpowered him, the controlling power, and with absolute genius -in a few words, admitting nothing, explaining nothing, offering no -reward, she made the conscience-stricken man the keeper of the honor of -the powerful house of which he was but the veriest minion. - - -Within the hour, while the people still thronged the walls of the -reduction-works, Doña Feliz left the great house. The few who witnessed -her departure were accustomed to the peremptory commands of the Señora -Doña Isabel and the instant obedience of her confidential servant, and -had as little speculation in their minds as in the gaze with which they -followed the carriage and its outriders,—yet murmured a few words of -pity for those who, after the horror of the tragedy, would lose the -sombre splendor of the rites which must necessarily follow. - -Upon the next day, John Ashley, carried in procession by the entire -population of men, women, and children of Tres Hermanos, excepting only -the immediate family of Doña Isabel and Pedro the gate-keeper, was borne -across the wide valley, up the bleak hillside, and laid in a corner of -the low-walled, unkempt graveyard, among the lowly dead of the _plebe_. - -Not a sound escaped Herlinda, as from the windows of her mother’s room -she watched the funeral procession. She had intuitively guessed the time -it would issue from the gates of the reduction-works, and her mother -placed no restraint upon her movements. Through the clear atmosphere of -the May day she could perfectly distinguish the form, ay the very -features of her beloved, as he lay stretched upon a wide board -surrounded by flowering boughs, his fair curls resting upon the -greenery, his hands clasped upon his breast. - -To steady their steps perhaps, rather than from any religious custom, -the people sang one of those minor airs peculiar to the country, and -which are at once so sad and shrill that the piercing wail reached even -so far as the great house,—a weird accompaniment to the swaying of the -ghostly white lengths of candles borne in scores of hands, and the pale -flames of which burned colorless in the brilliant sunshine. - -Strangely impressive, even to an indifferent eye, might well have been -that scene; the slow march of Death and Woe across the smiling fields, -blotting the clear radiance of the cloudless sky, and awesome then even -to a careless ear that wail of agony. Mademoiselle La Croix burst into -tears and threw herself upon the floor. Doña Isabel, deadly pale, -covered her eyes with a hand as cold and white as snow. Herlinda sank -upon her knees with parted lips and straining eyes to watch the form -upborne before that dark and sinuous procession; but when it became lost -to view amid the throng which encircled the open grave, she fell prone -to the floor with such a moan as only woe itself can utter,—a moan that -seemed the outburst of a maddened brain and a bursting heart. - -That night instead of lamentation the sounds of festivity began to be -heard, and days of revelry among the peasants followed the hours of -horror and gloom which had for a brief period prevailed. In the midst of -them Doña Feliz returned to the hacienda. Wherever her journey had led -her it had outwardly been unimportant, and drew but little comment from -the men who had attended her, and was speedily forgotten. She herself -gave no description of it, nor volunteered any information as to its -object or result. Even to Doña Isabel, who raised inquiring eyes to the -face of her emissary as she entered her private room, she said, briefly, -“No, there is no record; absolutely none.” - -Doña Isabel sank back in her chair with a deep-drawn breath as if some -mighty tension, both of mind and body, had suddenly relaxed. She had -herself sought in vain through the papers of Ashley for proofs of the -alleged marriage with Herlinda, and Feliz had scanned the public records -with vigilant eyes. Part of these records had in some _pronunciamiento_ -been destroyed by fire, but the book containing those of the date she -sought was intact. The names of John Ashley and Herlinda Garcia did not -appear therein; the marriage, if marriage there had been, was -unrecorded, and as secret as it was illegal. Conscience was satisfied, -and Doña Isabel was content to be passive. Why bring danger upon one -still infinitely dear to her? The heart of Doña Isabel turned cold at -the thought. Why rouse a scandal which could so easily be avoided? Why -strive to legalize a marriage which could but bring ridicule upon -herself, and shame and contempt upon Herlinda? - -That day, for the first time in many, Doña Isabel could force a smile to -her lip; for even for policy it had not been possible for her to smile -before. She was by nature neither cold nor cruel, but she had been -brought up in the midst of petty intrigues, of violent passions and -narrow prejudices; and while she had scorned them, they had moulded her -mind,—as the constant wearing of rock upon rock forms the hollow in the -one, and rounds the jagged surface of the other. What would have been -monstrous to her youth became natural to her middle age. She had -suffered and striven. Was it not the common lot of woman? What more -natural than that her daughter should do the same? And what more natural -than that the mother should raise her who had fallen?—for fallen indeed, -in spite of the ceremony of marriage, would the world think Herlinda. -But why should the world know? She pitied her daughter, even as a woman -pities another in travail; yet she looked to the future, she shrank from -the complexities of the present; and so silently, relentlessly, shaping -her course, ignoring circumstance, she, like a goddess making a law unto -herself, thus unflinchingly ordered the destiny of her child. Could she -herself have divined the various motives that influenced her? Nay, no -more perhaps than the circumstances which will be developed in this tale -may make clear the love, the woman’s purity, the high-born lady’s pride, -that all combined to bid her ignore the marriage, which, though -irregular, had evidently been made in good faith; and for which, in -spite of open malice or secret innuendo, the power and influence of her -family could have won the Pope’s sanction, and so silenced the -cavillings if not the gossip of the world. - - - - - VI. - - -And thus in that remote hacienda—a little world in itself, with all the -mingled elements of wealth and poverty, and all those subtile -differences of caste and character which form society, in circles small -as well as great—began a drama, which to the initiated was of deep and -absorbing interest. To the common mind despair and agony can have no -existence if they do not declare themselves in groans and tears, and to -such Herlinda’s deep pallor and her silence revealed nothing; but there -were a few who watched in solemn apprehension, feeling hers to be like -the intense and sulphurous calm with which Nature awaits the coming of -the tempest. - -But there were indeed few who saw in her any change other than the -events and anxieties of the time rendered natural. At first indeed there -had been whispers in corners, and half-pitying, half-fearful shrugs and -glances; but almost from the day of Ashley’s burial a new and fearful -cause of public interest drew attention from Herlinda, from her pallor -and her wide-eyed gaze of horror, to the consideration of a more -personal anxiety. - -The common people declared that from the night of the murder, death, -unsatisfied with one victim, had hovered over the hacienda. The rains -which should have fallen after the long dry winter, with cleansing and -copious force, flooding the ravines and carrying away the accumulated -impurities of months, had but moistened and stirred the infected mud of -the stagnant water-courses and set loose the fevers which lingered in -their depths. Years afterward the peasants dated many a widowhood and -orphanage from those plague-stricken weeks. There was one death or more -in every hut, and even the great house did not escape its quota of -victims. One after another, members of the families of the clerks and -officers succumbed,—the major-domo of the courts among the first, and -then Mademoiselle La Croix, who indeed, it was afterward observed, had -from the first sickened and fallen into a dejection, from which it was -almost impossible she should rally. The governess was the object of the -most devoted care even from the usually cold and stately Doña Isabel, -while the panic-stricken Herlinda, careless of her own danger, bent over -her with agonized and fruitless efforts to recall the waning life, or -soothe the parting and remorseful soul. - -But in all that terrible time this was the only event that seemed to -touch or rouse her; for the rest, one might have thought those dreadful -days but the ordinary calendar of Herlinda’s life. Indeed, it is to be -supposed that they suited so well the desolation of her spirit, and that -they presented so congruous a setting to her melancholy, that it became -merged and absorbed as it were in her surroundings, and so was -unperceived, save as the fitting humor of a time when ease and mirth -would have been an insult to the general woe. - -Doña Isabel had announced her intention of replacing the director of the -reduction-works; but time went on, and in the general consternation -produced by the epidemic nothing was done. There was much sickness at -the works; many of the most experienced hands died; and one day when the -clerk in charge was at the crisis of the fever, the men who were not -incapacitated from illness went by common consent to the _tienda_ to -stupefy themselves with fiery native brandy; and Doña Isabel, who was -fearlessly passing from one poor hovel to another, aiding the village -doctress and the priest in their offices, ordered the mules to be taken -from the _tortas_, and the stamps to be stopped. Thus, as the masses -half mixed lay upon the floors, they gradually dried and hardened; and -as the great stone wheels ceased to turn in the beds of broken ores, so -for years upon years they remained, and the works at Tres Hermanos -gradually fell into ruin,—a fit haunt for the ghost which, as years went -by, was said to haunt their shades. But this was long afterward, when -the memory of the handsome and hapless youth had become almost as a -myth, mingled with the thousand tales of blood which the fluctuating -fortunes of years of international and civil war made as common as they -were terrible. - -This fertile spot until now had been singularly free from the terror and -disorder that had affected the greater part of the country; and though -sharing the excitement of party feeling, the actual demands of strife -had never invaded it. But quick upon the typhoid, when the peasants who -had been spared began to think of repairing their half-ruined hovels, -many of them were summoned away with scant ceremony. Don Julian Garcia -appeared at the hacienda, his uniform glittering with gold braid, -buttons, and lace, the trappings of his horse more gorgeous even than -his own dress. He was raising a troop to join his old commander, Santa -Anna, who had returned in triumph to the land from which he had been -banished, to lead the arms of his countrymen against the foreign foe, -which already had begun its victorious march within the sacred borders -of their country. In a word, the American War had begun, and involved -all factions in one common cause, giving a rallying cry to leaders of -every party, to which even the most ignorant among the people responded -with intuitive and unquestioning ardor. - -Don Julian was uncertain in his politics, but not in his hatreds. He -heard the tale of the murder of the American with complacency; the -taking off of one of the heretics seemed to him natural enough,—it was -scarcely worth a second thought, certainly not a pause in his work of -collecting troops. If Isabel, he commented, had writhed under wounded -patriotism as he had done, the American would never have had an -opportunity of finding so honorable a service in which to die. Evidently -the grudge of some bold patriot, this. What would you? Mexicans were -neither sticks nor stones! - -Herlinda heard and trembled; a faint hope, a half-formed resolve, had -wakened in her breast when she had heard of the arrival of Don Julian. -He was a distant cousin, a man of some influence in the family. She -remembered him as more frank and genial than others of her kindred. An -impulse to break the seal of silence came over her, as she heard his -voice ringing through the courts and the clank of his spurs upon the -stairs; but it was checked by the first distinct utterance of his lips, -which, like all that followed, was a denunciation of the perfidious, the -insatiable, the licentious and heretical Americans. For the first time, -to the indifference with which she had regarded the desirability of -establishing her position as the acknowledged wife of Ashley was added a -sensation of fear. What had been in her mind an undefined and incomplete -idea of the anger and scorn which the knowledge of her daring would -cause among her family connections, became now a terrifying dread as the -impetuous but unrepented act assumed the proportions of treason. The -words which at the first opportunity she would have spoken died upon her -lips, and she became once more hopeless, impassive, unresisting, cold, -waiting what time and fate should bring. - -And time passed on unflinchingly, and fate was unrelenting. Carmen, -after a slight attack of fever, had been sent to some relative in -Guanapila, and there she still remained. Doña Isabel’s household -consisted only of herself, Herlinda, and the aged priest her cousin Don -Francisco de Sales, who though in his dotage still at long intervals -read Mass in the chapel, baptized infants, and muttered prayers over the -dying or dead, not the less sincere because he who breathed them himself -stood so far within the shadow of the tomb. The old man was kindly in -his senility, and spent long hours dozing in the chair of the -confessional, while penitents whispered in his ear their faults and -sins, for which they never failed to obtain absolution, little imagining -that the placid mind of the old man, even when by chance he was awake, -dwelt far more upon the scenes of his youth than the follies and -wickednesses of the present. Sometimes he babbled harmlessly of days -long past, even of sights and doings far from clerical; but the priestly -habit was second nature, and even if he heeded the confidences reposed -in him, in his weakest moments they never escaped his lips. To him -Herlinda was free to go and disburden her mind, complying with the -regulations of her Church, and seeking relief to her troubled soul. To -him, too, Doña Isabel resorted; and these two women with their tales of -woe, which as often as repeated escaped his memory, roused faintly -within his heart an echo of the pain which he uneasily and confusedly -remembered dwelt in the world, from which he was gliding into the peace -beyond. - -Sometimes at the table, or as he sat with them in the corridor,—the -priest in the sunshine, they in the shade,—he looked at them with -puzzled inquiry in his gaze, which changed to mild satisfaction at some -caress or fond word; for this gentle old man was tenderly beloved, with -a sort of superstitious reverence. Even Doña Isabel attributed a special -sanctity to his blessing, looking upon him as an automaton of the -Church, which without consciousness of its own would—certain springs of -emotion being touched—respond with admonition or blessing, fraught with -all the authority of the Supreme Power. Doña Isabel, as a devout -Romanist, had ever been scrupulous in the observances of her Church, -submitting to the spiritual functions of the clergy absolutely, while -she detested and openly protested against their licentiousness and -greed, as also their pernicious interference in worldly affairs. -Therefore throughout her life, and especially during her widowhood, she -had studiously avoided the more popular clergy, and had sought the -oracle of duty through some clod of humanity, who, though dull, should -be at least free from vices,—choosing by preference one of her own -family to be the repository of her secrets and the judge of her motives -and actions. Unconsciously to herself, while outwardly and even to her -own conscience fulfilling the requirements of her Church, she had -interpreted them by her own will, which, in justice let it be said, had -often proved a wise and loyal one; in a word, Doña Isabel Garcia, with -exceptional powers within her grasp, had skilfully and astutely freed -herself from those trammels which might at the present crisis have -forced her into a diametrically opposite course from that which she had -determined to pursue, or would at least have forced her to acknowledge -to her own mind the doubtful nature of deeds that she now suffered -herself to look upon as meritorious. For years, unconsciously, her will -had imbued the judgments of her spiritual adviser, as the Padre -Francisco was called, and it was not to be supposed that she should -cavil now, when with complacent alacrity he echoed yea to her yea, and -nay to her nay,—and as she left him, sank back into his chair with a -faint wonder at her tale, to forget it in his next slumber, or until -recalled to him by the anguished outpourings of Herlinda, for whom he -found no words of guidance other than those which throughout his life he -had given to young maidens in distress, the commendable ones, “Do as -your mother directs;” though, as he listened to her words, the tears -would pour down his cheeks, and pitying phrases fall from his trembling -lips. Poor Herlinda would be comforted for a moment by his simple human -sympathy,—even weeping perhaps, for at such times the blessed relief of -tears was given her,—yet found in her darkness no light, either human or -divine. - -Had Mademoiselle La Croix lived, Herlinda would doubtless have received -from her the impetus to throw herself upon the pity and protection of -her cousin Don Julian, which in spite of his prejudices he could -scarcely have refused; for the governess, though she was at first -stunned and terrified by the knowledge of the invalidity of the -marriage, was no coward, and would have braved much to reinstate the -girl she had through compassion—and, she had with a pang been obliged to -own, through cupidity—aided to bring into a false position. But she had -scarcely recovered her bewildered senses, the more bewildered by the -incomprehensible calm of Doña Isabel, when she was attacked by the -fever,—to which she succumbed a month before the appearance of the -doughty warrior, whose blustering fierceness would not have appalled her -or deterred her from urging Herlinda to lay before him the matter, whose -vital importance the stunned young creature failed to comprehend. - -Later it burst upon her, but it was then too late,—Don Julian had -marched away with his troops. She was alone,—no help, no counsellor -near. Alone? Ah, no! there were human creatures near, who could behold -and suspect and shake the head. Herlinda awoke to the shame of her -position, as a bird in a net, striving to fly, first learns its danger. -O God! where should she fly? Were these careless, laughing women as -unconscious as they seemed? Where might she hide herself from these -languid, soft eyes, which suddenly might become hard and cruel with -intelligence? Herlinda drew her reboso around her, and with flushing -cheek traversed the shadiest corridors in her necessary passages from -room to room, her eyes, large with apprehension, burning beneath her -downcast lids. Every day she grew more restless, more beautiful. She -walked for hours in the walled garden, which the servants never entered. -They began to whisper, forgetting the gossip of months before, that the -chances of war were secretly stealing the gayety and buoyancy of -Herlinda’s youth, by keeping from her side the playmate of her -childhood, her lover Vicente Gonzales. Feliz smiled when a garrulous -servant spoke thus one day, but ten minutes later entered the room of -Doña Isabel. - -The next morning it was known that the Señorita Herlinda was to have -change, was to go to the capital, that Mecca of all Mexicans. Doña -Isabel and Feliz were to accompany her. The clerks and overseers -wondered, and shook their heads wisely. They had heard wild tales of the -political factions which rendered the city unsafe to woman as to man; -Santa Anna’s brief dictatorship had ended in trouble. Still, in that -remote district nothing was known with certainty, and these bucolic -minds were not given to many conjectures upon the motives or movements -of their superiors. If anything could arouse surprise, it was the fact -that the ladies were not to travel by private carriage, as had been the -custom of the Garcias from time immemorial, attended by a numerous -escort of armed rancheros; but being driven to the nearest post where -the public diligence was to be met, were to proceed by it most -unostentatiously upon their way. This aroused far more discussion than -the fact of the journey itself; though it was unanimously agreed that if -Doña Isabel could force herself to depart from the accustomed dignity of -the family, and indeed preserve a slight incognito upon the road, her -chances of making the journey in safety would be greatly increased. - -Her resolve once made it was acted upon instantly, no time being allowed -for news of her departure to spread abroad and to give the bandits who -infested the road opportunity to plan the _plajio_, or carrying off, of -so rich a prize as Doña Isabel Garcia and her daughter would have -proved. And thus, early one November morning,—when the whole earth was -covered with the fresh greenness called into growth by the rainy season -which had just passed, and the azure of a cloudless sky hung its perfect -arch above the valley, seeming to rest upon the crown-like circlet of -the surrounding hills,—Herlinda passed through the crowd of dependents -who, as usual on such occasions, gathered at the gates to see the -travellers off. Doña Isabel, who was with her, was affable, smiling and -nodding to the men, and murmuring farewell words to the nearest women; -but Herlinda was silent, and it was not until she was seated in the -carriage that she threw back the reboso which she had drawn to her very -eyes, revealing her face, which was deadly pale. As she gazed -lingeringly around, half sadly, half haughtily, with the proud curve of -the lip (though it quivered) which made all the more striking her -general resemblance to her beautiful mother, a thrill, they knew not of -what or why, ran through the throng. For a moment there was a profound -silence, in the midst of which the aged priest raised his hand in -blessing. Suddenly a flash of memory, a gleam of inspiration, came over -him; he turned aside the hand of Doña Isabel, which had been extended in -farewell, and laid his own upon the bowed head of her daughter. “Fear -not, my daughter,” he said, “thou art blessed. Though I shall see thee -no more, my blessing, and the blessing of God, shall be with thee.” - -The old man turned away, leaning heavily upon Doña Rita, the wife of the -administrador, who led him tenderly away, and a few minutes later he was -sitting smiling at her side, while without were heard the farewell cries -of the women. “May God go with you, Niña! May you soon return! Adios, -Niña! more beautiful than our patron saint! Adios, and joy be with -thee!” And in the midst of such good wishes, as Herlinda still leaned -from the window, a smile upon her lip, her hand waving a farewell, the -carriage drove away and the people dispersed; leaving Pedro, the -gate-keeper, standing motionless in the shadow of the great door-post, -his eyes riveted on the sands at his feet, but seeing still the glance -of agony, of warning, of entreaty, which had darted from Herlinda’s -eyes, and seemed to scorch his own. - - - - - VII. - - -Upon the death of Mademoiselle La Croix, or rather perhaps from the time -of her return to the hacienda after her ineffectual quest, Doña Feliz -had virtually become the duenna of Herlinda. Not that such an office was -formally recognized or required in the seclusion of Tres Hermanos, but -it was nevertheless true that Herlinda had seldom found herself alone, -even in the walled garden. Though she paced its narrow paths without -companionship, she had been aware that her mother or Doña Feliz lingered -near; and it was this consciousness that had steeled her outwardly, and -forced her to restrain the passionate despair that under other -circumstances would have burst forth to relieve the tension of mind and -brain. When she at last roused from the apathy of despair, her days -became periods of speechless agony, but sometimes at night, when she had -believed that Feliz—who, since Carmen’s departure, had occupied the -adjacent room—was asleep, for a few brief moments she had yielded to the -demands of her grief, and given way to sobs and tears, to throw herself -finally prostrate before the little altar, where she kept the lamp -constantly burning before the Mother of Sorrows. Thence Feliz at times -had raised her, and led her to her bed,—chill, unresisting, more dead -than alive, yet putting aside the arm that would have supported her, and -by mute gestures entreating to be left to her misery. - -Fortunately for her reason, there were times when in utter exhaustion -Herlinda had slept heavily and awoke refreshed,—and this had occurred a -night or two after she had learned, by a few decisive words from her -mother, of her imminent removal from Tres Hermanos. She had retired -early, and awoke to find the soft and brilliant moonlight flooding her -chamber. Every article in the room was visible; their shadows fell black -upon the tiled floor, and the lamp before the altar burned pale. A -profound stillness reigned. Herlinda raised herself on her pillow, and -looked around her. The scene was weird and ghostly, and she presently -became aware that she was utterly alone. She listened intently,—not the -echo of a breath from the next room. Her heart leaped; for a moment its -pulsations perplexed her; another, and she had moved noiselessly from -her bed and crossed the room. She glanced into that adjoining. That too -was flooded in moonlight, which shone full upon the bed. Yes, it was -empty. Doña Feliz had doubtless been called to some sick person; she had -left Herlinda sleeping, thinking that at that hour of the night there -could be no danger in leaving her for a brief half hour alone. - -In an instant these thoughts darted through Herlinda’s mind, followed by -a project that of late she had much dwelt upon, but had believed -impossible of realization. With trembling hands she took from her -wardrobe a dress of some soft dark stuff, and a black and gray reboso, -and put them on. Without pausing a moment for thought that might deter -her, she glided from the room, crossed the corridor, and descended the -stairs, taking the same direction in which Ashley had gone to his death. -She paused too at the gate, to do as he had done; for she touched the -sleeping Pedro lightly upon the shoulder, at the same instant uttering -his name. - -The man started from his sleep affrighted,—too much affrighted to cry -out; for like most haciendas, Tres Hermanos had its ghost. From time to -time the apparition of a weeping woman was seen by those about to die. -Had she come to him now? His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth; he -shook in every limb. The moonlight shone full in the court, but the -archway was in shade: who or what was this that stood beside him, -extending a white arm from its dark robes, and touching him with one -slight finger? A repetition of his name restored him to his senses, and -he staggered to his feet, muttering, “Señorita! My Señorita, for God’s -sake why are you here? You will be seen! You will be recognized!” - -“‘In the night all cats are gray,’” she answered, with one of those -proverbs as natural to the lips of a Mexican as the breath they draw. -“No one would distinguish me in this light from any of the servants; but -still my words must be brief, for my absence from my room may be -discovered. Pedro, I have a work to do; it has been in my mind all this -time. You, you can help me!” - -She clasped her hands; he thought she looked at the door, and the idea -darted into his mind that she contemplated escape, or that she had a mad -desire to throw herself upon her lover’s grave and die there. - -“Niña! Niña, of my life!” he said imploringly, using the form of address -one might employ to a child, or some dearly loved elder, still -dependent. “Go back to your chamber, I beg and implore! How can I do -anything for you? How can Pedro, so worthless, so vile, do anything?” - -The adjectives he applied to himself were sincere enough, for Pedro had -never ceased to reproach himself for his share in the tragedy which, in -spite of Doña Isabel’s words, he had never really ceased to believe -concerned Herlinda, though he had striven for his own peace of mind, as -well as in loyalty to the Garcias, to affect a contrary opinion, until -this moment, when his young mistress’s appearance and appeal rendered -self-deception no longer possible. Again and again he reiterated, “What -can the miserable Pedro do for you?” - -Apparently with an instinct of concealment, Herlinda had crouched upon -the stones, and as the man stood before her she raised her face and -gazed at him with her dark eyes. How large they looked in the uncertain -light! how the young face quivered and was convulsed, as her lips -parted! Pedro, with an inward shrinking, expected her to demand of him -the name of Ashley’s murderer; but the thought of vengeance, if it ever -crossed her mind, was far from it at that moment. “Yes, yes, there is -perhaps something you can do for me,” she said. “Men are able to do so -much, while we poor women can only fold our hands, and wait and suffer. -I thought differently once, though. John used to laugh at what he called -our idle ways; he said women were made to act as well as men. But what -can I do? What could any woman do in my place? Nothing! nothing! -nothing!” - -Pedro was silent. He knew well how powerless, what a mere chattel or -toy, was a young woman of his people. It seemed, too, quite natural and -right to him. In this particular case the mother was acting with -incomparable severity, but she was within her right. Even while he -pitied the child, it did not enter his mind to counsel her to combat her -mother’s will. He only repeated mechanically, “What can I do? What would -you have your servant do?” - -“Not so hard a thing,” she said with a sob in her voice; “even a woman, -had I one for my friend, could do this thing for me; and yet it is all I -have to ask in the world. Just a little pity for my child, Pedro!” She -rose to her feet suddenly, and spoke rapidly. “Pedro, they say that I -was not truly married; they say my beautiful, golden-haired husband, my -angel of light, deceived me. It is false, Pedro! all false! But they say -the world will not believe me, and so I must go away; and my child, like -an offspring of shame, must be born in secret, and I must submit. It -will be taken from me, and I must submit. There is no help! no help!” - -She spoke in a kind of frenzy, and her excitement communicated itself to -Pedro. He understood, far better than she could, the motives of Doña -Isabel; he did not condemn her, neither did he attempt to justify her to -her daughter. He only muttered again in his stoical way, “What can I -do?” - -Herlinda accepted the words as they were meant, as an offer of devotion, -of service. “Pedro, you can do much,” she said rapidly. “You can watch -over my child. Years hence, when I come to ask it, you can give me news -of it. Ah, they think when they take my child from me, it will be as -dead to me; but Pedro,” she added in an eager whisper, “I have found -what they will do. Never mind how I learned it. They will bring my child -here,—here, where only the peasants will ask a few useless questions, -where there will be no person of influence to interfere. Yes, it will be -brought here, and—forgotten! But Pedro, promise me you will watch for -it, you will protect it. Promise! promise! promise!” - -Pedro was startled, but not incredulous. This would not be the first -child that had been found at the hacienda doors, left to the charity of -the señoras; more than one half-grown boy, of whose parents no one knew -anything, loitered in the courts, and even the maid who served Doña -Isabel was a foundling of this class. - -“But how shall I know,” he stammered, after he had satisfied her with -the promise she desired. “True enough, it may be brought here, but how -shall I know?” - -Herlinda scarcely heeded his words. She was busy in taking a small -reliquary from her neck. It was square, made of pale blue silk, and in -no way remarkable. “See, I will put this around its neck,” she said. “No -one will dare remove a reliquary. There is a bit of the true cross in -it. It will keep evil away; it will bring good fortune. The first day I -wore it I met John; and” she added, nervously fingering the jewel at her -ear, “take this, Pedro. The other I will put in the reliquary, with a -prayer to San Federigo. When you see the strange child that will come -here, look for these signs, and as you hope for mercy hereafter, guard -the child that bears them.” - -She had placed in his hand a flat earring of quaint filagree work, one -of the marvels of rude and almost barbaric workmanship that the untaught -goldsmiths of the haciendas produce. Pedro would have returned it to -her, swearing by all he held sacred to do her will; but some sound had -startled her. She slipped the reliquary into her bosom, drew her scarf -around her, and glided away. He saw her pass the small doorway like a -spectre. He could scarcely believe that she had been there at all, that -she had actually spoken to him. He crossed himself as he lost sight of -her, and looked in a dazed way at the earring in his palm. - -“Would to God,” he muttered, “I had told Doña Isabel all the truth, as I -meant to, when I went to her from the dead man’s side. Why did I not -tell her plainly I knew her daughter Herlinda to be the woman Ashley had -come here to meet,—would she have dared then to say she was not his -wife? Fool that I was! I myself doubted. What, doubt that sweet angel! -Beast! imbecile!” and Pedro flung his striped blanket from him with a -gesture of disgust. “And now, what would be the use, though I should -trumpet abroad the whole matter? No, my hour has passed. Doña Isabel -must work her will; I will not fail her, for only by being true can I -serve her daughter. But who knows?—Herlinda may be deceived; her fears -may have turned her brain. Yet all the same I will keep this token;” and -he looked at the earring reverently, then placed it in his wallet. Two -days later, when she left Tres Hermanos and he saw its fellow in -Herlinda’s ear, he caught the momentary glance in her dark eye, and -stood transfixed. - -Pedro Gomez hitherto had been a careless, idle, rollicking fellow; -thenceforward he became grave, watchful, and crafty,—the change which, -had there been keen observers near, all might have noticed in the -outward man being as nothing to that from the specious fellow whom -Ashley had found it an easy matter to bribe, to the conscience-stricken -man who stood at the gates of the great hacienda of the Garcias, -cognizant of its conflicting interests, and sworn to guard them; his -crafty mind inclining to Doña Isabel and the cause she represented, his -heart yearning over the erring daughter. - - - - - VIII. - - -Though Herlinda Garcia had forced a smile to her lips as she left, -perhaps forever, the house where she was born, as the carriage was -driven rapidly across the fertile valley her eyes remained fixed with -melancholy, even despairing, intensity upon the walls wherein she had -learned in her brief experience of life much that combines to make up -the sum of woman’s wretchedness. - -Herlinda had ever been an imaginative child, even before she had -attained the age of seven years, at which she had been taught to -consider herself a reasoning, responsible being; she had been conscious -of vague feelings and desires, which had in a measure separated her from -her family and the people who surrounded her, and had set her in sullen -opposition to the aimless and inane occupations which served to while -away days that her eager nature longed to fill with action. Though she -had not been conscious of any especial direction into which she would -have thrown her energies, she had been most keenly conscious that she -possessed them, and early rebelled against the petty tasks that curbed -and strove to stifle them,—such tasks as the embroidering of capes and -stoles, or drawing of threads from fine linen, to be replaced with -intricate stitches of needle-work, to form the decoration of altar -cloths, or the garments of the waxen Lady of Sorrows above the altar in -the chapel, or of the Virgin of Guadalupe in the great _sala_,—as she -did also against the endless repetition of prayers, for which she -needlessly turned the leaves of her well-thumbed breviary. How she had -longed for freedom to run with the peasant children over the fields! How -many hours she had hung over the iron railing of her mother’s balcony, -and gazed upon the far hills, and wondered what sort of world lay in the -blue beyond them. - -Sometimes Herlinda had attempted to talk to Vicente Gonzales of these -things when he came from the city, privileged as the son of an old -friend, and the scion of a wealthy and influential family, to form an -early intimacy with the pretty child, whom later he would meet but in -her mother’s presence with all the restrictions of Spanish etiquette. -She had always liked the proud, handsome boy, but he was far slower in -mental development than she, and could only laugh at her fancies. And so -as they grew older, and he in secret grew more fond, she had become -indifferent, restlessly longing for an expansion of her contracted and -aimless existence, yet finding no promise in the prospects of war and -political strife which began to allure Gonzales, and in which she could -not hope to take part,—and to sit a spectator was not in the nature of -Herlinda. Her mother delighted to watch the fray, to counsel and direct. -It was perhaps this trait in Doña Isabel’s character that, while it had -awakened her daughter’s admiration, had chafed and fretted her, checking -the natural expression of her lively and energetic spirit, even as the -cold and stately dignity of her manner repressed the affections which -lay ardent within her, waiting but the magnetic touch of a responsive -nature. - -Such an one had not been found within her home; all were cold, -preoccupied, absorbed in the every-day affairs of life. Sometimes, when -by chance Herlinda had caught a glimpse of the repressed inner nature of -Doña Feliz, the mother of the administrador, she had felt for a moment -drawn toward her; but although all her life she had lived beneath the -same roof with her, there had occurred no special circumstance to draw -them into intimacy, or in any way lessen the barrier that difference in -age and position raised between them,—for perhaps in no part of the -world are the subtle differences of caste so clearly recognized and so -closely observed as in those little worlds, the Mexican _haciendas de -campo_. - -Sometimes, in her unhappiest moods, when her unrest had become actual -pain and resolved itself into a vague but real feeling of grief, -Herlinda had thought of her father, in her heart striving to idealize -what was but an uncertain memory of an elderly, formal-mannered man, -handsome according to the type of his race,—sharp-featured, eagle-eyed, -but small of stature, with small effeminate hands which Herlinda could -remember she used to kiss, in the respectful salutation with which she -had been taught to greet him. He had died when Herlinda was eight years -old, just after the second daughter, Carmen, was born; and though Doña -Isabel seldom mentioned him, it was understood that she had loved him -deeply, and for his sake lived the life of semi-isolation which her age, -her beauty, her talents, and wealth seemed to combine to render an -unnatural choice. As she grew older, Herlinda began to wonder, and -sometimes repine, at this utter separation from the world of which in a -hurried visit to the city of Guanapila she had once caught a glimpse. -Especially was this the case after the arrival of Mademoiselle La Croix, -who was lost in wonder that any one should voluntarily resign herself to -exile even in so lovely a spot; and although she opened for Herlinda a -new world in the studies to which she directed her, they had been rather -of an imaginative than a logical kind, and stimulated those faculties -which should rather have been repressed, while personally the governess -had answered no need in the frank yet repressed and struggling nature of -her pupil. - -These had been the conditions under which Herlinda had met John Ashley, -and we know with what result. As the tiny stream rushes into the river -and is carried away by its force, their waters mingling -indistinguishably, so the mind, the very soul of Herlinda had felt the -power of that perfect sympathy which, in the few short words uttered in -the pauses of a dance (for they had first met at Guanapila) and the -expressive glances of his eyes, she believed herself to have found in -the mind and heart of the alien,—a man in her mother’s employ, one whom -ordinarily she would have treated with perfect politeness, but would -have thought of as set as far apart from her own life as though they -were beings of a separate order of creation. The fact that he was a -handsome young man would primarily have had no effect upon Herlinda, -though undoubtedly it served to render to her mind more natural and -delightful the ascendency which, in spite of all obstacles, he rapidly -gained over her entire nature. - -Needless is it for us to analyze the mind and character of Ashley. It is -certain he loved Herlinda passionately, and in the opposition of Doña -Isabel to his suit saw but irrational prejudice and mediæval tyranny. -His entire freedom from sordid motives, and his fears of the -consequences of delay,—knowing as he did of the desired engagement -between Herlinda and the young Vicente Gonzales,—justified to his mind a -course which the canons of honor would have forbidden, but of the -legality of which he certainly had had no question, the intricacies and -delicacies of marriage laws having engaged no share in the attention of -a somewhat adventurous youth. - -This very heedlessness and activity of John Ashley’s nature had formed -an especial charm to Herlinda; she would have shrunk from and pondered -over a more cautious nature,—perhaps would have ended in loving, but she -never would have cast aside all the traditions of her youth. All her -life she had been like a bird in the cage. For a brief space she had -seen the wide expanse of the sky opening above her, she had fluttered -upward; but death had struck her down to darkness,—death, which had -pierced the strong and loving one who would have guided and protected -her! She moaned, and turned her face to the corner of the carriage. An -arm stole around her; it was that of Doña Feliz. - - - - - IX. - - -The pale dawn, creeping over the hills behind which the sun was still -hidden, revealing to the accustomed sight of Doña Feliz a narrow, -irregular street of adobe hovels; a tiny church with a square tower, -where the swallows were sleepily chirping; around and behind, stray -trees and patches of gardens; upon the waste of sand, where cacti and -dusty sagebrush grew, up to the hills where the pines began, a road of -yellow sand, winding like a sinuous serpent over all; two or three early -loiterers, with eyes turned toward the diligence, which thus early was -making its way from the night’s resting place toward the distant -city,—such was the scene upon which the trusted servant and friend of -the Garcias looked on a morning early in November. She was standing in -the low gateway that gave entrance to a garden overgrown with weeds and -vines. These vines spread from the fig and orange trees, and half -covered the ruinous walls of a house which had once, where the -surroundings were so humble, ranked as an elegant mansion, and which -indeed had served in years gone by as a temporary retreat, small but -attractive, for such of the family of Garcia as desired a few days’ -retirement from their accustomed pursuits. Here the ladies had wandered -amid the flowers, and sat under the arbors where the purple grapes -clustered, and honeysuckle and jessamine mingled their rich odors; and -the gentlemen had smoked their cigarettes in luxurious ease, or sallied -forth to shoot the golden plover in its season, or hunt the deer amid -the surrounding hills. This had in fact been a _quinta_, or pleasure -resort, but since the days of revolutions and bandits it had been -utterly abandoned to the rats and owls, or to the nominal care of the -ragged brood who huddled together in the half-ruinous kitchen; and here -the romance of Herlinda’s life had been enacted. - -When Doña Isabel Garcia had desired to send her daughter from the -hacienda of Tres Hermanos, in order to remove her from the neighborhood -of Ashley and give her the benefit of change, she had at first been -sadly perplexed where to send her. Should she go to her relatives in the -city, it was possible that her dejected mien and unguarded words might -give them a suspicion of the truth,—and Doña Isabel detested gossip, -particularly family gossip; besides, she looked upon Herlinda’s marriage -with Vicente Gonzales as certain, and dreaded lest the faintest rumor of -the young girl’s attachment should reach his ears, and awaken in him the -slumbering demon of jealousy,—which, though it might rouse the young -soldier as a lover to fresh ardor only, might incite him later as her -husband to a tyranny which the mind of Herlinda was ill disposed to -bear. In this dilemma the house at Las Parras had occurred to her. Once -in her own girlhood she had visited the place, and she remembered it as -a most charming sylvan retreat; and although she knew it to be situated -in the outskirts of a small hamlet scarce worthy of the name of village, -and that it had been abandoned for years, its isolation and abandonment -at that juncture precisely constituted its attractions; and thither, -under the care of Don Rafael the administrador and of Mademoiselle La -Croix, Herlinda had been sent. Precautions had been taken to baffle the -inquiries of Ashley as to their route and destination, which, as has -been said, an accident revealed to him just when his mind was most -strongly excited by the mystery which his disposition and training, as -well as his love, led him passionately to resent. Hither, too, when a -new and still more important need had risen, Herlinda had been brought. - -Doña Isabel had been unaffectedly shocked, when, after a tortuous -journey by diligence in order to evade conjecture as to their -destination, they had at nightfall arrived at this deserted mansion, and -had passed through the narrow door-way set in the high stone-wall that -surrounded the garden, and had looked upon its tangled masses of half -tropic vegetation, and entered the ruin, to find that only three or four -small rooms opening upon the vineyard were habitable. But in these few -rooms they and their secret were safe,—safe as if buried in the caves of -the earth. Herlinda looked around her for familiar faces, but all she -saw were strange to her. Doña Isabel had guarded against recognition of -Herlinda, and even her own identity was disguised. To the women and the -old man who performed the work of the kitchen and went the necessary -errands, but who were rigidly excluded from the private rooms, she was -known only as a friend of Doña Isabel Garcia,—one Doña Carlota, whose -family name awoke no interest or inquiry. - -After satisfying her hungry anxiety to catch a glimpse of the servants, -and finding them strangers, Herlinda made no further effort to encounter -them. She was very ill after arrival, and it is doubtful whether the -attendants—dull, apathetic creatures—ever saw her face plainly from the -day she entered the house until that of which we speak, when Doña Feliz -stood in the low doorway in the garden wall, and looked toward the -diligence which appeared indistinctly, a moving monster in the distance. -She glanced back occasionally, half impatiently, half sorrowfully, to -the house. Through the open door of it presently glided Doña Isabel. Her -head was bent, her olive cheeks were deadly pale, and she shivered as -with cold as she stepped out into the dusk of early morning,—or rather -late night, for it was an hour when not a creature around the place was -stirring, not even the birds; a wide-eyed cat stared at her as she -passed down the narrow walk, and she shrank even from its gaze. She held -something under her black reboso, which upon reaching Feliz she passed -to her with averted eyes. - -“Take it,” she said; “Herlinda is asleep. We trust you, Feliz. I in my -shame, she in her despair, we give this child to you, never to ask it of -you again, never to know whether it lives or dies.” - -The passionless composure with which she said these words, the absolute -freedom from any tone of vindictiveness, gave to them the accent of -perfect trust. There was nothing of cruelty, nothing of hesitancy in the -tone or words or manner with which Doña Isabel Garcia laid in the arms -of Feliz a new-born sleeping infant, and thus separated herself and her -family from the fate which with absolute confidence she placed in the -hands of the statuesque, cold-faced woman who stood there to receive it. - -But with the child in her arms a great change swept over the face of -Feliz. One could not have told at a glance whether it was loathing and -resentment, or an agony of pity, that convulsed her features, or all -combined. “My words are all said,” she murmured. “Herlinda is, you say, -resigned. Oh, Doña Isabel, Doña Isabel, you will rue this hour! I do -your will; do not you blame or accuse me in the future!” - -The diligence had driven through the village. To the astonishment of the -idlers it stopped before the wall that circled the half-ruined _quinta_; -a woman stepped through the doorway, and was helped to her seat. She had -evidently been expected by the driver. They would have been still more -surprised had they also seen the lady who waved a white hand at parting, -and who turned back into the garden with a deep-drawn sigh of relief, -followed by a groan that seemed to rend and distort the lips through -which it came, and which she vainly strove to keep from trembling as she -entered the house, and answered the call of her awakened daughter. - -What can I say of the scene that followed? What that will awaken pity, -unstained with blame, for that poor creature, so powerless in that land -that her sisters, in others more blessed, perhaps, find it impossible to -put themselves in imagination in her place even for a single moment? But -the captive slave can writhe; woman, the pampered toy, may weep: and -where woman was both (for even in Mexico a new era is dawning on her), -she could struggle and despair and die,—but, as Herlinda knew too well, -in youth at least she could not assert her womanhood, and make or mar -her own destiny. In such a land, in such a cause, what champion would -arise to beat down the iron laws of custom which manacled and crushed -her? Not one! - - - - - X. - - -One day Pedro Gomez, half-sleeping half-meditating as he sat on the -stone bench beneath the hanging serpents that garnished the vestibule of -Tres Hermanos, thought he saw a ghost upon the stairs which led from one -corner of the wide court into which he had glanced, to the corridor of -the upper floor. An apparition of Doña Feliz, he thought, had passed up -them; and with ready superstition he decided in his own mind that some -evil had befallen her in her journeyings. He was so disturbed by this -idea that a few moments later, as her son Don Rafael passed through the -vestibule, he ventured to stop him and tell him what he had seen; -whereat Don Rafael burst into a loud laugh. - -“What, do you not know,” he said, “that my mother has returned? Ah, I -remember you were at Mass this morning. She came over from the -post-house on donkey-back. A wonderful woman is my mother; but she knew -we had need of her, and she came none too soon. I opened the door to her -myself;” and Don Rafael hastened to his own apartments, where it was -understood Doña Rita his wife hourly awaited the pangs of motherhood, -and left Pedro gazing after him in open-mouthed astonishment. - -In the first place nothing had been heard of the probability of the -return of Doña Feliz; in the second, the manner of her return was -unprecedented. She was a woman of some consequence at the hacienda. It -was an almost incredible thing that under any circumstances she should -arrive unexpectedly at the diligence post, and ride a league upon a -donkey’s back like the wife of a laborer. And thirdly it was a miracle -that he Pedro had himself gone to Mass that morning,—he could not -remember how it had come about,—and that discovering his absence from -the gate Don Rafael had himself performed his functions, and had not -soundly rated him for his unseasonable devotion; for Don Rafael was not -a man to confound the claims of spiritual and secular duties. - -Pedro Gomez did not put the matter to himself in precisely these words; -nevertheless it haunted and puzzled him, and kept him in an unusual -state of abstraction,—which perhaps accounted for the fact that later in -the day, just at high-noon, when the men were afield and the women busy -in their huts, and Pedro had ample leisure for his siesta, he was -suddenly aroused by a voice that seemed to fall from the skies. -Springing to his feet, he almost struck against a powerful black horse, -which was reined in the doorway; and dazzled by the sun, and confused by -the unexpected encounter, he gazed stupidly into the face of a man who -was bending toward him, his broad hat pushed back from a mass of -coal-black hair, his white teeth exposed by the laugh that lighted up -his whole face as he exclaimed,— - -“Here, brother! here is a good handful for thee! I found it on the road -yonder. _Caramba!_ my horse nearly stepped on it! Do people in these -parts scatter such seeds about? I fancy the crop would be but a poor one -if they did, and I saw a good growth of little ones in the village -yonder. Well, well! I have no use for such treasure; I freely bestow it -on thee,”—and with a dexterous movement the stranger placed a bundle, -wrapped in a tattered scarf, in the hands of the astounded Pedro, and -without waiting question or thanks, whichever he might have expected, -put spurs to his horse and galloped across the dusty plain. - -Twice that day had Pedro Gomez been left, as he would have said, -open-mouthed. Almost unconscious of what he did, he stood there watching -the cloud of dust in which the horse and rider disappeared, until he -felt himself pulled by the sleeve, and a sharp voice asked, “In the name -of the Blessed, Tio, what have you there? Ay, Holy Babe! it is a child!” - -A faint cry from the bundle confirmed these words; a tiny pink fist -thrust out gave assurance to the eyes. - -Pedro Gomez, strong man as he was, trembled in every limb, and sank on a -seat breathless; but even in his agitation he resisted the efforts of -his niece to unwrap the child. - -“Let it be,” he said; “I will myself look at this gift which the Saints -have sent me.” - -With trembling hands he undid its wrappings. The babe was crying -lustily; red, grimacing, struggling, it was still a pretty child,—a girl -only a few days old. Around its neck, under the little dress of white -linen, was a silken cord. Pedro drew it forth, certain of what he should -find. Florencia pounced upon the blue reliquary eagerly. “Let us open -it,” she said; “perhaps we shall find something to tell us where the -babe comes from, and whose it is.” - -“Nonsense!” said Pedro, decidedly; “what should we find in it but scraps -of paper scribbled with prayers? And who would open a reliquary?” - -Florencia looked down abashed, for she was a good daughter of the -Church, and had been taught to reverence such things. - -“No, no, girl! run to the village and bring a woman who can nourish this -starving creature;” and as the girl flew to execute her commission, -Pedro completed his examination of the child. - -It was clothed in linen, finer than rancheros use even in their gala -attire, and the red flannel with white spots, called _bayeta_, was of -the softest to be procured; but beyond this there was nothing to -indicate the class to which the child belonged. Upon a slip of paper -pinned to its bosom was written the name _Maria Dolores_ (what more -natural than that such a child should bear the name, and be placed under -the protection of the Mother of Sorrows?), and upon the reverse was -“Señora Doña Isabel Garcia.” Was this to commend the waif to the care or -attention of that powerful lady? Pedro rather chose to think it a -warning against her. “What! place the bird before the hawk?” With a grim -smile he thrust the paper into his bosom. Doña Isabel was he knew not -where,—later would be time enough to think of her; meanwhile, here were -all the women and children, all the old men, and halt and lame of the -village, trooping up to see this waif, which in such an unusual manner -had been dropped into the gate-keeper’s horny palms. - -Some of the women laughed; all the men joked Pedro when they saw the -child, though a yellow nimbus of hair around its head and the fineness -of its clothing puzzled them. - -Pedro had hastily thrust the slip of paper into his breast, scarce -knowing why he did so; for though some instinct as powerful as if it -were a living voice that spoke, urged him to secrete the child, to rush -away with it into the fastnesses of the mountains, rather than to render -it to Doña Isabel, he did not doubt for a moment that she herself had -provided for its mysterious appearance at the hacienda, that it might be -received as a waif, and cared for by Doña Feliz as her representative. - -These thoughts flashed through his mind, and he heard again Herlinda’s -despairing cry: “Watch for my child! Protect it! protect it!” Was it -possible that she had actually known that this disposition would be made -of her child? Involuntarily his arms closed around it, and he clasped it -to his broad breast, looking defiantly around. - -“Tush, Pedro, give it to me!” cried one stout matron, longing to take -the little creature to her motherly breast. “What know you of nursing -infants? A drop of mother’s milk would be more welcome to it than all -thy dry hugs. Ah, here comes the Señor Administrador,” and the crowd -opened to admit the passage of Don Rafael, who attracted by the -commotion had hastened to the spot in no small anger, ordering the crowd -to disperse; but he was greeted with an incomprehensible chorus of which -he only heard the one word “baby,” and exclaimed in indignation,— - -“And is this the way to show your delight, when the poor woman is at the -point of death perhaps? Get you gone, and it will be time enough to make -this hubbub when it comes.” - -The women burst out laughing, the men grinned from ear to ear, and the -children fell into ecstasies of delight. Don Rafael was naturally -thinking of the expected addition to his own family, and was enraged at -what he supposed to be a premature manifestation of sympathy. Pedro -alone was grave, and stepping back pointed to the infant, which was now -quiet upon the bosom of Refugio, her volunteer nurse. “This is the child -they speak of, Señor,” he said, and in a few words related the manner in -which it had been delivered to him. - -If he had expected to see any consciousness or confusion upon the face -of Don Rafael, he must certainly have been disappointed, for there was -simply the frankest and most perfect amazement, as he turned to the -woman who had stepped out a little from the crowd and held the infant -toward him. He saw at a glance that it was no Indian child,—the -whiteness of its skin, the fineness of its garments, above all the -yellow nimbus of hair, already curling in tiny rings around the little -head, struck him with wonder. He crossed himself, and ejaculated a pious -“Heaven help us!” and touched the child’s cheek with the tip of his -finger, and turned its face from its nurse’s dusky breast in a very -genuine amaze, which Pedro watched jealously. The child cried sleepily, -and nestled under the reboso which the woman drew over it, hushing it in -her arms, murmuring caressingly, as her own child tugged at her -skirts,—“There, there, sleep little one, sleep! nothing shall harm thee; -sleep, _Chinita_, sleep!” - -But the little waif—whose soft curls had suggested the pet name—was not -yet to slumber; for at that moment Doña Feliz appeared. Pedro noticed as -she crossed the courtyard that she was extremely pale. Some of the women -rushed toward her with voluble accounts of the beauty of the child and -the fineness of its garments. She smiled wearily, and turned from them -to look at the foundling. A flush spread over her face as she examined -it, not reddening but deepening its clear olive tint. She looked at -Rafael searchingly, at Pedro questioningly. He muttered over his -thrice-told tale. “Was there no word, no paper?” she said, but waited -for no answer. “This is no plebeian child, Rafael. What shall we do with -it? Doña Isabel is not here, perhaps will not be here for years!” - -There was a buzz of astonishment, for this was the first intimation of -Doña Isabel’s intended length of absence. In the midst of it Pedro had -taken the sleeping child from Refugio’s somewhat reluctant arm, and -wrapping it in a scarf taken from his niece’s shoulders, had laid it on -the sheepskin in the alcove in which he usually slept. This tacit -appropriation perhaps settled the fate of the infant; still Doña Feliz -looked at her son uneasily, and he rubbed his hands in perplexity. “Of -all the days in the year for a babe like this to be left here,” he said, -“when, the Saints willing, I am to have one of my own! No, no, mother, -Rita would never consent.” - -“Consent to what?” she answered almost testily. “What! Because this -foundling chances to be white, would you have your wife adopt it as her -own, when after so many years of prayer Heaven has sent her a child? No, -no, Rafael, it would be madness!” - -“There is no need,” interpolated Pedro, with a half-savage eagerness, -and with a look which, strangely combined of indignation and relief, -should have struck dumb the woman who thus to the mind of the -gate-keeper was revealed as the incarnation of deceit,—“there is no -need. I will keep the child; ‘without father or mother or a dog to bark -for me,’ who can care for it better? Here are Refugio and Teresa and -Florencia will nurse it for me. It will want for nothing.” A chorus of -voices answered him: “We will all be its mother.”—“Give it to me when it -cries, and I will nurse it.”—“The Saints will reward thee, Pedro!”—in -the midst of which, in answer to a call from above, Doña Feliz hastened -away, saying, “Nothing could be better for the present. Come, Rafael, -you are wanted. I will write to Doña Isabel, Pedro; she will doubtless -do something when you are tired of it. There is, for example, the asylum -at Guanapila.” - -Pedro gazed after her blankly. In spite of that momentary flush on the -face, Doña Feliz had seemed as open as the day. He never ceased -thereafter to look upon her in indignant admiration and fear. Her -slightest word was like a spell upon him. Pedro was of a mind to -propitiate demons, rather than worship angels. There was something to -his mind demoniacal in this Doña Feliz. - -Half an hour after she had ascended the stairs, and the idlers had -dispersed to chatter over this event, leaving the new-found babe to its -needed slumber, the woman who acted the part of midwife to Doña Rita ran -down to the gate where Pedro and his niece were standing, to tell them -that there was a babe, a girl, born to the wife of the administrador. A -boy, who was lounging near, rushed off to ring the church bell, for this -was a long-wished-for event; but before the first stroke fell on the -air, the voice of Doña Feliz was heard from the window: “Silence! -Silence! there are two. No bells, no bells!” - -Two! Doña Rita still in peril! The midwife rushed back to her post. The -door was locked, and there was a momentary delay in opening it. “Where -have you been,” said Doña Feliz severely, “almost a half an hour away?” - -The woman stared at her in amaze,—the time had flown! Yes, there was the -evidence,—a second infant in the lap of Doña Feliz, puny, wizened. She -dressed it quickly, asking no assistance, ordering the woman sharply to -the side of Doña Rita. - -“A thousand pities,” said Don Rafael as he looked at it, “that it is not -a boy!” Then as the thought struck him, he laughed softly: “Ay, perhaps -it is for luck,—instead of the three kings, who always bring death, we -have the three _Marias_.” - -Doña Rita had heard something of the foundling, and smiled faintly. -“Thank God they were not all born of one mother,” she said. “Ay! give me -my first-born here;” and with the tiny creature resting upon her arm, -and the second presently lying near, Doña Rita sank to sleep. - - - - - XI. - - -Though the three Marias, as Don Rafael had called them, thus entered -upon life, or at least into that of the hacienda of Tres Hermanos, -almost simultaneously, except at their baptism they found nothing in -common. On that occasion, a few days later than that of which we have -written, the aged priest, in the name of the Trinity, severally blessed -Fiorentina, Rosario, and Dolores,—each name as was customary being -joined to that of the virgin Queen of Heaven; but as they left the -church their paths separated as widely as their stations differed. -Dolores, for whom in vain—were it designed to subdue or chasten her—was -chosen so sad a name, was taken to the dusky little hut, a few rods from -the gate, that was, when he chose to claim it, Pedro’s home, and there -cared for by his niece Florencia with an uncertain and somewhat -fractious tenderness, and nourished at the breast of whomsoever happened -to be at hand. She passed through babyhood, losing her prettiness with -the golden tinge of her hair, and as she grew older looking with -wide-opened eyes out from a tangle of dark elf-locks, which explained -the survival of her baby pet-name Chinita, or “little curly one.” - -Meanwhile the two children at the great house were seldom seen below -stairs, so cherished and guarded was their infancy. Rosario grew a -sturdy, robust little creature, with straight shining brown hair, drawn -back, as soon as its length would permit, from her clear olive temples, -in two tight braids, leaving prominent the straight dark eye-brows that -defined her low forehead. Long curling lashes shaded her large black -eyes,—true Mexican eyes, in which the vivacity of the Spaniard and the -dreamy indolence of the Aztec mingled, producing in youth a bewitching -expression perhaps unequalled in any other admixture of races. She had, -too, the full cheeks, of which later in life the bones would be proved -too high, and the slightly prominent formation of jaw, where the lips, -too full for beauty, closed over perfect teeth of dazzling whiteness. -Rosario was indeed a beauty, according to the standard of her country; -and Florentina so closely followed the same type, that she should have -been the same, but there was a certain lack of vividness in her coloring -which beside her sister gave her prettiness the appearance of a dimly -reflected light. Rosario was strong, vivid, dominant; Florentina, sweet, -unobtrusive, spirituelle,—though they had no such fine word at Tres -Hermanos for a quality they recognized, but could not classify; and so -it came about, as time went on, and Rosario romped and played and was -scolded and kissed, reproved and admired, that Florentina grew like a -fragrant plant in the corner of a garden, which receives, it is true, -its due meed of dew and sunshine, but is unnoticed, either for praise or -blame, except when some chance passer-by breathes its sweet perfume, and -glances down in wonder, as sometimes strangers did at Florentina. In the -family, ignoring the fine name they had chosen for her, they called her -little “snub-nose,”—Chata,—not reproachfully, but with the caressing -accent which renders the nicknames of the Spanish untranslatable in any -other tongue. - -So time passed on until the children were four years old. The little -Chinita made her home at the gateway rather than at the hut with -Florencia, who by this time had married and had children of her own, and -indeed felt no slight jealousy at the open preference her uncle showed -for his foundling. For Pedro was a man of no vices, and his food and -clothing cost him little; so in some by-corner a goodly hoard of -sixpences and dollars was accumulating, doubtless, for the ultimate -benefit of the tiny witch who clambered on his knees, pulled his hair, -and ate the choicest bits from his basin unreproved; who thrust out her -foot or her tongue at any of the rancheros who spoke to her, or with -equally little reason fondled and kissed them; and who at the sight of -the administrador or clerk or Doña Feliz, shrank beneath Pedro’s striped -blanket, peeping out from its folds with half-terrified, half-defiant -eyes, which softened into admiration as Doña Rita and her children -passed by. - -They also in their turn used to look at her with wonder, she was so -different from the score or more of half-naked, brown little figures -that lolled on the sand or in the doorways of the huts, or crept in to -Mass to stare at them with wide-opened black eyes. They used to pass -these very conscious of their stiffly-starched pink skirts, their -shining rebosos, and thin little slippers of colored satin. But though -this wild little elf crouching by Pedro’s side was as dirty and as -unkempt as the other ranchero children, they vaguely felt that she was a -creature to talk to, to play with, not to dazzle with Sunday finery,—for -even so young do minds begin to reason. - -As for Chinita, after the rare occasions when she saw the children of -the administrador, she tormented Pedro with questions. “What sort of a -hut did they live in? What did they eat? Where did their pretty pink -dresses come from?” - -This last question Pedro answered by sending by the first woman who went -to the next village for a wonderful flowered muslin, in which to her -immense delight Chinita for a day glittered like a rainbow, but which -the dust and grime soon reduced to a level with the more sombre tatters -in which she usually appeared. When these were at their worst, Doña -Feliz sometimes stopped a moment to look at her and throw a reproving -glance at Pedro; but she never spoke to him of the child either for good -or ill. - -One day, however,—it was the day, they remembered afterward, on which -the Padre Francisco celebrated Mass for the last time,—the two little -girls accompanied by their mother and followed by their nurse went to -the church in new frocks of deep purple, most wonderful to see. Chinita -could not keep her eyes off them, though Rosario frowned majestically, -drawing her black eyebrows together and even slyly shaking a finger half -covered with little rings of tinsel and bright-colored stones. But the -other child, the little Chata, covertly smiled at her as she half -guiltily turned her gaze from the saint before whose shrine she was -kneeling; and that smile had so much of kindliness, curiosity, -invitation in it that Chinita on the instant formed a desperate -resolution, and determined at once to carry it through. - -Now, it had happened that from her earliest infancy Pedro had forbidden -her to be taken, or later to go, into the court upon which the -apartments of the administrador opened. Everywhere else,—even into the -stables where the horses and mules, for all Pedro’s confidence, might -have kicked or trodden her; to the courtyard where the duck-pond was; to -the kitchen, where more than once she had stumbled over a pot of boiling -black beans—anywhere, everywhere, might she go except to the small court -which lay just back of the principal and most extensive one. How often -had Chinita crossed the first, and in the very act of peeping through -the doorway of the second had been snatched back by Pedro and carried -kicking and screaming, tugging at his black hair and beard, back to the -snake-hung vestibule to be terrified by some grim tale into submission; -or on occasion had even been shut up in the hut to nurse Florencia’s -baby,—if nursing it could be called, where the heavy, fat lump of infant -mortality was set upon the ragged skirt of the other rebellious infant, -to pin her to her mother earth. Florencia perhaps resented this mode of -punishment more than either of the victims, for they began with screams -and generally ended by amicably falling asleep,—the straight coarse -locks of the little Indian mingling with the brown curls, still tinged -with gold and reddened at the tips by the sun, of the fairer-skinned -girl. - -Upon this day, Chinita in her small mind resolved there should be no -loitering at the doorway; and scarcely had the two demure little maidens -passed into the inner court and followed their mother up the stairway, -when she darted in and looked eagerly around. There was nothing terrible -there at all,—an open door upon the lower floor showing the brick floor -of a dining-room, where a long table set for a meal stood, and a boy was -moving about in sandalled feet making ready for the mid-day dinner. -There was a great earthen jar of water sunk a little in the floor of a -far corner, and some chairs scattered about. A picture of the Virgin of -Guadalupe, under which was a small vessel of holy water, met her eyes as -she glanced in. She turned away disappointed and went to another door, -that of a sitting-room, as bare and uninviting as the dining-room, but -with an altar at one end, above which stood a figure of Mary with the -infant Jesus in her arms. Even the saints in the church were not so -gorgeous as this. Chinita gazed in admiration and delight; if she could -have taken the waxen babe from the mother’s arms she would have sat down -then and there in utter absorption and forgetfulness. As it was, she -crossed herself and ran out among the flower-pots in the courtyard and -anxiously looked up. Yes, there leaning over the railings of the -corridor were those she sought. At sight of her Rosario screamed with -delight, her budding aristocratic scruples yielding at once to the -charms of novelty. Chata waved her hand and smiled, both running eagerly -to descend the stairs and grasp their new play-fellow. - -“What is your name?” asked both in a breath. “Why are you always with -Pedro, at the gate? Who is your mother, and why have you got such funny -hair? Who combs it for you? Doesn’t it hurt?” - -Chinita answered this last question with a rueful grimace, at the same -time putting one dirty little finger on Rosario’s coral necklace,—a -liberty which that damsel resented with a sharp slap, which was -instantly returned with interest, much to Rosario’s surprise and Chata’s -dismay. - -At the cry which Rosario uttered, following it up with sobs and -lamentations, both Doña Feliz and Doña Rita appeared. Rosario flew to -her mother. “Oh, the naughty cat! the bad, wicked girl! she scratched -me! she slapped me!” she cried, between her sobs. - -Chata followed her sister, still keeping Chinita’s hand, which she had -caught in the fray. “Poor Rosario! poor little sister,” she said -pityingly; “but, _Mamacita_, just look where Rosa slapped the poor -pretty Chinita,” and she softly smoothed the cheek which Chinita -sullenly strove to turn away. - -“Why, it is that wretched little foundling of Pedro’s!” cried Doña Rita, -indignantly, as she wiped Rosario’s streaming cheeks. “Get you gone, you -fierce little tigress! Chata, let go her hand; she will scratch you, she -may bite you next.” - -“Oh, no,” cooed Chata, quite in the ear of the ragged little fury beside -her; while Doña Feliz, who had been silent, placed her fingers under the -chin of the little waif, and lifted her face to her gaze. “Be not angry -at a children’s quarrel,” she said; “they will be all the better friends -for it later.” - -“But I don’t wish them to be friends,” cried Doña Rita,—though the -absolute separation of classes rendered intimate association possible -and common between them which neither detracted from the dignity of the -one caste, nor was likely to arouse emulation in the other. “What a -wild, savage little fox! No, no, my lamb, she shall not come near thee -again!” - -But the mother’s lamb was of another mind, for suddenly she stopped -crying, pulled the new-comer’s ragged skirt, and said, “Come along, I’ll -show you my little fishes;” and in another moment, to Doña Rita’s -amazement and Doña Feliz’s quiet amusement, the three children were -leaning together, chatting and laughing, over the edge of the stone -basin in the centre of the court. - -In the midst of their play, a sudden fancy seized Doña Feliz. Catching -up a towel that lay at hand, she half-playfully, half-commandingly -caught the elf-like child and washed her face. What a smooth soft skin, -what delicately pencilled brows appeared! how red was the bow of that -perfect little mouth! Doña Rita sighed for very envy; Doña Feliz held -the little face in her hands, and looked at it intently. But Chinita, -already rebellious at the water and towel, absolutely resented this; and -in spite of the cries of the children she broke away and ran from the -courtyard, arriving breathless at the knees of Pedro, to cover herself -with the grimy folds of his blanket. - -Little by little he drew from her what had passed, comforting her though -he made no audible comment; and an hour later Doña Feliz, catching sight -of the child, wondered how it had been possible for her to get her face -so dirty in so short a time, though a suspicion of the truth soon caused -her to smile gravely. While Chinita had been telling her adventures, -Pedro had drawn his grimy fingers tenderly over her cheeks, in this way -at once resenting Doña Feliz’s interference, curiosity, interest, -whatever it was, and manifesting his sympathy with the aggrieved one. -Nor did he scold the child for her intrusion to the court, or forbid her -to go again; and when after some days of hesitation, anger, and -irresistible attraction she found her way thither, she wore on her neck -a string of coral beads which made Rosario cry out with envy, and which -Chata regarded with wide-eyed and solemn admiration. - - - - - XII. - - -The acquaintance thus unpromisingly begun among the three children grew -apace. At first, Chinita’s visits were as infrequent as Pedro’s -watchfulness and Doña Rita’s antipathy to the foundling could render -them, although neither openly interfered,—Pedro, for reasons best known -to himself, and Doña Rita out of respect to her mother-in-law, who she -saw, in her undemonstrative and quiet way, seemed inclined to regard the -child with an interest differing from that with which she favored the -children of the herdsmen and laborers. Doña Feliz seldom gave Chinita -anything, even in the way of sweets, with which on special festival days -she sometimes regaled the others; but in the chill days of the rainy -season, or when the norther blew, she it was who chid her if she ran -barefooted across the courts, or left her shoulders and head uncovered, -and who set all the children to string wonderful beads of amber and red -and yellow, placing the painted gourd which contained them close to the -brasier of glowing coals, so that the shivering little creature might -benefit by its warmth. - -Not that the waif was neglected, according to the customs of Pedro’s -people,—indeed he was lavish to her of all sorts of rural finery. But -where all children ran barefoot, where none wore more clothing than a -chemise, a skirt, and the inevitable reboso (a long striped scarf of -flexible cotton), and in a clime where this was usually more than -sufficient for protection, it did not occur either to Florencia or Pedro -to provide more against those few bitter days, when it seemed quite -natural to shiver, perhaps grow ill, and to mutter against the bad -weather; and so, very often the child he would have given his life to -shelter had run a thousand risks of wind and weather, which custom had -inured her to, and a robust constitution defied. - -Still Chinita was glad of shelter and warmth, though like others, she -bore the lack of them stoically, and at first in the bad weather went to -the administrador’s for such comforts, as much as from the attraction -which Rosario’s spiteful fondness and Chata’s soft friendliness offered; -while so it chanced that she was suffered to go and come as the dogs -did, sometimes caressed, sometimes greeted with a sharp word, often -enough unnoticed except by Chata, who looked for the visit each day, -never forgetting to save in anticipation a tiny bit of the preserved -fruit she had been given at dinner, or a handful of nuts. These -offerings of affection often proved efficacious in soothing the -irritation caused by Rosario’s uncertain moods. Yet it was to Rosario -that this perverse little creature attached herself; with her she -romped, and chased butterflies in the garden; with her she laughed and -quarrelled; and Chata looked on the two with a precocious benignity -pretty to see, leaning often upon Doña Feliz’s lap, and, with a quaint -little way she had, smoothing down with one little finger the tip of her -tiny nose which obstinately turned skyward, giving just the suggestion -of sauciness to features which otherwise would have been inanely -uncharacteristic. - -Doña Rita was of opinion that all that was necessary in the education of -girls was to teach them to hem so neatly that the stitches should not -show in the finest cambric, and to make conserves of various -sorts,—adding, by way of accomplishment, instruction in the drawing of -threads and the working of insertions in many and quaint designs, or the -modelling of fruits and figures in wax, to be used in the wonderful -mimic representation of the scene of the birth of the Saviour made at -Christmas. But Doña Feliz held more liberal views, and much as she -esteemed accomplishments, considered them of inferior value to the arts -of reading and writing, which she had herself acquired with infinite -difficulty, at the pain of disobedience to well-beloved parents. - -Reading and writing, according to Feliz’s father, were inventions of the -arch-enemy, dangerous to men, and fatal to the weaker sex. What could a -woman use writing for, asked he, but to correspond with lovers,—when she -should only know of the existence of such beings when one was presented -as her future husband, by a wise and discreet father. What could a woman -desire to read but her prayers?—and those she should know by heart. In -vain, therefore, had been Feliz’s appeal to be taught to read and write. -At last she and the Señorita Isabel had puzzled out the forbidden lore -together, both copying portions of stolen letters, or the crabbed -manuscripts in which special prayers to patron saints were written, thus -acquiring an exquisite caligraphy, and learning the meanings of words as -they noticed them appear and reappear in the copies of prayers they knew -by heart. By a similar process the art of reading printing was -acquired,—all in secret, all with trembling and fear. Isabel, much -assisted by Feliz, who was older and had sooner begun her task, had -successfully concealed her knowledge until it could be revealed with -safety; and great was the indignation and surprise of Feliz’s father, -when on her wedding day the bride took up the pen and signed her -marriage contract, instead of affixing the decorous cross which had been -expected of her,—while the groom, too, was perhaps not over pleased to -find himself the husband of a wife of such high acquirements. - -But these acquirements, added to her natural penetration, had been -powerful factors in the life of Doña Feliz. Her husband had been weak -and inefficient, yet had through her tact retained throughout his life -the management of the Garcia estates: in which he had been succeeded by -his son, a man of more character, which perhaps the preponderating -influence of his mother as much overshadowed as it had sustained and -lent a deceptive brilliancy to that of his father, who, like many a man -who goes to his grave respected and admired, had shone from a reflected -light as unsuspected and unappreciated as it was unobtrusive and -unfaltering. - -Doña Feliz had all her life, in her quiet, self-assured way, ruled in -her household,—in her husband’s time because he had accepted her -opinions and acted upon them, unconscious that they were not his own; -while now by her son she was deferred to from the habitual respect a -Mexican yields to his mother, and from the steadfast admiration with -which from infancy he had recognized her talents. Thus, it is not an -exaggeration to say that Don Rafael, whatever might have been his -temptations to do otherwise, invariably identified himself in thought as -well as act with the mother to whom he felt he owed all that was strong -or fortunate or to be desired, not only in his station, but in mind or -person. Therefore it was not to be expected that he would interfere when -Doña Rita complained to him that his mother made Rosario cry by keeping -her poring over the mysteries of the alphabet, and that Chata inked her -fingers and frocks over vain endeavors to form the bow-letters at a -required angle, and that both would be better employed with the needle. -And indeed Don Rafael thought it a pretty sight, when he came upon his -mother seated in her low chair, with the two sisters before her, -Rosario’s mouth forming a fluted circle as she ejaculated “Oh!” in a -desperate attempt at “O,” and Chata following the lines painfully with -one fat forefinger, her eyes almost touching the book,—no dainty primer -with prettily colored pictures, but a certain red-bound volume of -“Letters of a Mother,” containing advice and admonition as alarming as -the long and abstruse words in which they were conveyed. - -With all her inattention and impatience, Rosario learned her tasks with -a rapidity which roused the pride of her mother’s heart; but Chata, in -those early years, stumbled wofully on the road to learning. At -lesson-time Chinita, not a whit less grimy than of old, used to hasten -to crouch down behind her victimized little patroness, and sometimes -whisper impatiently in her ear, sometimes give her a sly tweak of the -hair, when her impatience grew beyond bounds, and at others vociferate -the word with startling force and suddenness; until one day it occurred -to Doña Feliz, who had made no effort to teach her anything, and had -often been oblivious of her very presence, that this little elf-locked -rancherita was her aptest pupil. That day, when the others unwillingly -seated themselves to their copy-books, she watched the gate-keeper’s -child, and saw her write the words she had set for her little pupils -upon the brick floor with a piece of charcoal taken from the kitchen, -then covertly wipe them off with the hem of her skirt. - -Doña Feliz was touched. Here was a child of five doing what she herself -at fifteen had painfully acquired. She did not pause to think that what -with her had been the result of deep thought, was here but parrot-like -though effective imitation. She took away the charcoal from the child’s -blackened fingers, bade her stand at the table, and gave her pen and -ink. - -After the lesson Chinita flew rather than ran across the court, leaving -Rosario and Chata astounded and offended that she would not play, and -thrust into Pedro’s hand a piece of dirty paper covered with cabalistic -characters. She had already confided to him that she could read, and had -even once spelled out to him a scrap of printed paper which had come in -his way, amazing him by her knowledge; but now that she could write, a -veritable superstitious awe of this elfish child befell him. - -That evening Pedro stole into the church, and lighted two long candles -before the image of the Virgin. Were they an offering of thanks for a -miracle performed, or a bribe against evil? The man went back to his -post thoughtful, his breast swelling with pride, his head bowed in -apprehension. He never had heard that those the gods love die young, yet -something of such a fear oppressed him,—though as he found Chinita in -flagrant disgrace with Florencia because she had drunk the last drop of -thin corn-gruel which the woman had saved for her uncle’s supper, he had -reasonable ground for believing that the healthful perversity of her -animal spirits and moral nature might counteract the malefic effect of -mental precocity; and as he was thirsty that night, so might have been -interpreted the muttered “A dry joke this!” with which he looked into -the empty jar, and swallowed his tough tortillas and goatmilk cheese. - -“Ay! but Florencia is cross to poor Chinita,” whispered this astute -little damsel, seizing the opportunity to creep up behind him when he -was not looking, of stealing a brown arm around his neck, and -interposing her shock of curls between his mouth and the morsel he -destined for it. “Who has poor Chinita to love her but Pedro, good -Pedro?” And so Pedro’s anger was charmed away, even as he thought evil -might be turned from his wilful charge by the faint glow of the two -feeble candles he had lighted. Were her coaxing ways as evanescent, as -little to be relied on, as their flicker? Ay, Chinita! - - - - - XIII. - - -These few years of which the flight has been thus briefly noted, had -wrought a subtle change in the appearance of Tres Hermanos as well as in -the life of its inhabitants. Gradually there came over it that almost -indescribable suggestion of absenteeism which falls upon a dwelling when -there is death within, and which is wholly different from the careless -untidiness of a house temporarily closed. True, there was movement still -at Tres Hermanos,—people came and went, the fields were tilled, the -herds of horses roamed upon the hillside, the cattle lowed in the -pastures, the village wore its accustomed appearance of squalid plenty, -the children played at every doorway, the same numbers of heavily-laden -mules passed in at the house-gates, the granaries were as richly -stored,—and yet, even to the casual observer, there was a lack. At -first, one would attribute it wholly to the pile of deserted buildings -to the west. No smoke ever issued from the tall stack of the -reduction-works; the lizards ran unmolested upon the walls, which -already had crumbled in a place or two, affording entrance to a few -adventurous goats, which browsed upon the herbage that sprang up in the -court, and even around the great stones in the reduction-sheds. But -turning the eyes from these, there was something desolate in the -appearance of the great house itself. The upper windows opening upon the -country were always closed, dust gathered in the balcony where Doña -Isabel had been wont to stand, and a rose, which had long striven -against neglect, waved its slender tendrils disconsolately in the -evening breeze. Some one pathetically calls a closed window the dropped -eyelid of a house; and so seemed those barred shutters of cedar, upon -which beat the last rays of the setting sun. - -The great event of the American War had despoiled Tres Hermanos of many -of its young men. Others had from time to time been drawn into the -broils that followed, and which had been augmented by the dictatorship -of Santa Anna; yet the estate itself had escaped invasion. Its great -storehouses of grain remained intact, its fields were untrodden by the -horses of soldiery either hostile or friendly; but a change menaced -it,—a hoarse murmur as of the sea seemed to gather and break against the -bulwark of mountains that environed it. News of the great events of the -day penetrated the remote valley, and with them vague apprehensions and -disquiet. Even the laborers in the fields felt the oppression of the -storm which was raging without, and which threatened to break upon them. -Their hearts quaked; they knew not what an hour might bring forth. For -the first time they realized that the great events which had been -transpiring, and were still in progress beyond their cordon of hills, -meant more to them than food for gossip, or an attraction to some idle -boy to whom army life meant a frolic and freedom from work. - -These events had followed one another in such rapid succession, and were -seemingly so contradictory, that to the onlooker they appeared -irrational, childish, even traitorous. But in truth they were the vague, -blind outstretchings of a people groping for self-government, for a -liberty and peace which they were both by nature and training as yet -unprepared to enjoy. The thraldom of Spain had left them madly impatient -of fetters, yet they clung to the stake to which they had been chained. -Were the prop called King or President, an individual rather than -abstruse principles was demanded to uphold them. This it was which in -the chaos that followed the war with the United States led them to -recall the man whom they had exiled,—the man who had failed them in -their greatest need, yet whose unaccountable ascendency over the minds -of the masses led them to turn to him again as a deliverer, and whose -triumphant march through the land intensified a thousand times the -prevailing misery. As one of the historians of Mexico says of Santa -Anna,— - - “On his lips had been heard the words of brotherhood and - reconciliation. The majority had believed in them, because they - thought that in the solitude of exile the experience of years and the - spectacle of his afflicted country must have purified and instructed - the man. It is impossible to say whether his was hypocrisy or a flash - of good faith; but certain it is he deceived those who believed, and - silenced those who had no faith in his words, and none can imagine the - days of distress and mourning which followed. - - “His term of office was to last a year; his promises were to redeem - his nation from the yoke of slavery, to announce a code of wise and - just measures which should insure its happiness and prosperity. A - hopeless task, perhaps, in the midst of a nation distracted by years - of foreign and civil wars; but at least an attempt was possible. But - when once the sweets of power were tasted, all sense of honor and - patriotism was lost in the intoxication of personal ambition. Beguiled - by promises of protection of their interests, so often and so - violently assailed by the Liberal and Conservative parties, the clergy - and their adherents in all parts of the Republic secured the passage - of an Act which declared him perpetual ruler, with the title of Serene - Highness, with his will as his only law, and his caprices his only - standard.” - -Those not lost in the inconceivable stupor which the deadly upas in -their midst cast far and near, opened wide eyes of amaze. A trumpet cry -rang through the land! Liberals and Conservatives, even the less bigoted -of the clerical party, sprang to arms. The entire nation, grieving and -reduced to misery by the loss of ninety thousand men who had been -dragged from their homes to support the pomp and power of the tyrant, to -become a prey upon the land, and upon the helpless families of whom they -should naturally have been the support, had refused long to be dazzled -by the spectacle of military pomp, or to be beguiled by the _fiestas_ -and processions which in every town and village made the administration -one that appeared a prolonged carnival and madness. These continued -insults to the public misery; the daily proscriptions of men who dared -to raise the voice or write a line against the Dictator or his senseless -policy; the oppressions of the army; the cold, cruel, implacable -espionage which made life unendurable,—these wrought quickly their -inevitable consequences among a people accustomed to disorder and -revolutions, and who in their blind, irrational way longed for liberty. -Disgust and detestation of the dictatorship became general. As suddenly -as it had sprung into being it was met and crushed. Rebellions sprang up -on every hand; the populace rose in mass; the statues of Santa Anna were -thrown down in the streets, his portraits stoned; the houses of his -adherents were sacked, their carriages destroyed. The popular fury -culminated in the practical measure of the promulgation of the plan of -Ayutla, which condemned to perpetual exile the ambitious demagogue who -had disappointed and betrayed all parties, mocking with cruel levity his -country’s woes, and which declared for the establishment of a Republic -based upon the broadest platform of civil rights. Gomez Farias gave form -to this act; but Ignacio Comonfort became its soul when he proclaimed it -in Acapulco, and in the almost inaccessible recesses of the South raised -the standard of a rebellion, which rapidly extending throughout the land -hurled from its pedestal the idol of clay, that for a brief moment had -been taken for gold, to place in its stead a new favorite. - -Then another exile returned to his country, heralded by neither trumpets -nor acclamations. Calm, astute, watchful, he took his place amid the -revolutionary forces; but without seeming effort, from a follower he -became a leader. His was the brain that was to develop from the -imperfect plan of Ayutla liberties more daring and precious than men had -learned to dream of to that hour. Comonfort the last President was the -figure toward which all eyes turned; but behind him stood the quiet, -insignificant Indian, successful general now, Benito Juarez, shaping the -destinies of those who ignored or despised him. - -Comonfort was daring, impulsive, utterly devoid of physical fear; a man -of action, prone to plunge into difficulties, yet ready to compromise -where he could not fight, antagonistic to the temporal power of the -Church, yet superstitiously bound by its traditions, he was at once the -initiator and the enemy of reform. Finding himself in triumphant -opposition to the clergy, he recklessly attacked their most cherished -institutions; to open a passage for his troops he threw down their -finest convent; to pay his soldiery he levied upon their treasures. Yet -he trembled before their denunciations,—upon one day sending the bishop -into exile; on the next, he cowered before the meanest priest who -threatened him with the Virgin’s ire. The terrors of excommunication -unnerved him. Scared by his own audacity; unable to quell the storm he -had roused; viewing with dismay the reaction that his ill-considered -boldness had created in the minds of a people dominated by ghostly -fears, even while they groaned under the material oppressions of -priestcraft; led beyond his depth by unscrupulous counsellors, or by -those who like Juarez had ideas beyond the epoch in which he -lived,—Comonfort, while he maintained a kingly state, looked forth upon -the new aspect of distraction which his country wore, and vainly sought -a method of compromise to evoke order from chaos. He who had dared all -physical dangers shrank before a revolution of sentiment. His -vacillating demeanor—above all his conciliations of the clergy whom he -had so short a time before defied—awoke distrust on every hand. - - -Such was the political aspect, so far as known at Tres Hermanos, upon -the eve when the first straggling band of soldiery crossed the peaceful -valley, and its doors opened to receive the first of those armed guests, -which in the near future were to become so numerous and so dreaded. - -In one far corner of the great house there was a little balcony with its -high iron railing; and behind it, scarce reaching to its top, stood two -children on tip-toe, looking with wide eyes upon the glory of the -purpling mountains, and then with mundane curiosity dropping them upon -the more homely attractions within hearing as well as sight. And upon -that special afternoon in October these chanced to be of a somewhat -unusual character; for across the plain rode one of those predatory -bands, which in those wild days sprang up like magic even in the most -isolated regions,—the arid mountains and the fertile plains alike -furnishing their quota of material, which blindly, ignorantly, but for -that none the less furiously, became sacrifices to the ambition of a -score or more contesting chiefs. Yet amid the cupidity, -unscrupulousness, and barbarity of these chiefs still lingered the -spirit of liberty, which though drenched in blood, and bound down by -ecclesiastical as well as military despotism, was yet to rise -triumphant, perhaps after its years of long struggle stronger, purer, -holier than the world before had known it. - -But license rather than liberty seemed to animate those wild spirits -who, invigorated after a long day’s march by the sight of a halting -place, urged their steeds with wild shouts and blows with the flat side -of their sabres, as well as with applications from their clanking spurs, -across the plain, where scattered at intervals might be seen the -laggards of the party, chiefly women, on mule or donkey back, with their -cooking implements hanging from the panniers upon which they squatted in -security and comfort, nursing their babies or quieting the more -fractious older children, as the animals they rode paced quietly on or -broke into a jog-trot at their own wills. - -It was a cause of great excitement and delight to the children in the -balcony to see the soldiers—most of them still arrayed in their ranchero -dress of buff leather, but some of them resplendent in blue-and-red -cloth, with stripes of gilt upon their arms and caps—stop at the huts -along the principal street or lane of the village, and laughingly take -possession, bidding Trinita and Francisca and Florencia, and the rest of -them, to go or stay as it pleased them. Some of the women were -frightened and began to cry and bewail, but others found acquaintances -among the new arrivals; and there was much laughing and talking, in the -midst of which two personages who appeared to be the leaders of the -party, and who were followed by a dozen or more companions and servants, -rode up to the hacienda gates, and one, scarcely pausing for an answer -from the astonished Pedro whom he saluted by name, rode into the -courtyard, whither he was followed by the gate-keeper, who with stoical -calm yet evident amazement saluted him as Don Vicente; and holding his -stirrup as he dismounted added in a low voice,— - -“The Saints defend us, Don Vicente! The sight of you is like rain in -May,—it will bless the whole year! Heaven grant your followers leave -untouched the harvest of new maize! Don Rafael would go out of his -senses if it were broached and trampled on by this rabble,—begging your -Grace’s pardon a thousand times!” - -Don Vicente, as the young man was called, laughed as he stamped his feet -on the brick pavement until his spurs and the chains and buttons on his -riding suit clanked again,—though he looked half sadly, half furtively -around. - -“Have no fear, Pedro good friend, the men have their orders. The -General, José Ramirez, is not to be trifled with;” and he glanced at his -companion, a man older than himself, but still in the prime of life, who -had also dismounted and was shaking hands with Don Rafael, with many -polite expressions of pleasure at meeting the courageous and prudent -administrador of Tres Hermanos. - -These compliments were returned with rather pallid lips by Don Rafael, -who however upon being recognized by Don Vicente, who advanced to -embrace him with the cordiality of a friend, though with something of -the condescension of a superior, regained his composure with the -rapidity natural to a man who having fancied himself in some peril finds -himself under the protection of a powerful and generous patron. He -hastened in the name of Doña Isabel to place everything the hacienda -contained at the disposal of the visitors, making a mental reservation -of the new maize and sundry fine horses that happened to be in the -courtyards. - -Chinita, who had pushed her way through the crowd of children and -half-grown idlers that had been attracted to the court, and were gazing -in silent and opened-mouthed wonderment and admiration at the imposing -personage called the General José Ramirez, was so absorbed in the -contemplation of his half-military, half-equestrian bravery of riding -trousers of stamped leather trimmed with silver buttons, and wide felt -hat gorgeous with gold and silver cords and lace, his epauletted jacket, -and scarlet sash bristling with silver-handled pistols and stilletto, -that she took no heed when a servant came to lead away the charger upon -which the object of her admiration had been mounted, and so narrowly -escaped being knocked down and trampled upon. - -“Have a care thou!” cried Don Vicente, as he sprang forward and clutched -the child by the arm, drawing her out of danger, while a score of -voices—the General’s perhaps the most indifferent among them—reiterated -epithets of abuse to the servant and admonition to the child. In the -midst of the commotion, Don Rafael conducted the two officers to rooms -which were hastily assigned them. - -As they disappeared, Chinita’s eyes followed them. She was not -especially grateful for her escape: it was not the first time she had -been snatched from beneath the feet of a restive horse; the incident was -natural enough to her, and perhaps for this reason her rescuer was not -specially interesting to her mind. Somewhat to her disgust, an hour -later, when she had managed to steal unobserved into the supper-room, -where she crouched in a corner, she saw Rosario and Chata from their -seats at their mother’s side regarding the young officer with amiable -smiles,—Rosario with infantile coquetry, drooping her long lashes -demurely over her soft dreamy black eyes; and Chata, with her orbs of a -nondescript gray, frankly though coyly taking in every detail of his -face and dress, while they averted themselves as if startled or repelled -from the dark countenance of his companion. It might have been thought -that Doña Feliz shared her dread, for more than once she looked at the -General with an expression of perplexity and aversion, as he lightly -entertained Doña Rita with an account of his family and his own -exploits,—topics strangely chosen for a Mexican, but which seemed -natural rather than egotistical when lightly and wittily expatiated upon -by this gay soldier of fortune. - -Meanwhile, Don Vicente Gonzales was talking in a low voice to Doña -Feliz. He ate little and drank only some water mixed with red wine, -while Don Rafael and the General Ramirez partook freely of more generous -stimulants, growing more talkative as the evening advanced; and at last, -as the ladies rose from the table, and Doña Rita went with the children -to the upper rooms, the two walked away together to inspect the horses -and talk of the grand reforms initiated by Comonfort, which in reality -had but filled the country with discontent and bloodshed. The poison of -personal ambition was working in the new President slowly—as it had done -more rapidly in his renowned predecessor Santa Anna—the change from the -patriot to the demagogue. He who had talked and worked and fought for -the liberties of Mexico, dallied with the chains he should have broken. - - - - - XIV. - - -As Don Rafael in an unwonted state of complacency, which drew the -anxious eyes of his mother upon him, disappeared with his jovial guest -the General, the younger officer, Don Vicente Gonzales, drew a long -breath of relief, and at a sign from Doña Feliz followed her to the -window, with the half-sombre, half-expectant air of one who is about to -speak of past events with an old and tried friend; and throwing himself -into a chair, he turned his face toward her with the air and gesture -which says more plainly than words, “What have you to tell, or ask? We -are alone; let us exchange confidences.” - -In truth they were not quite alone. Chinita had half-sulkily, -half-defiantly, crept after Doña Feliz, and had sunk down in her usual -crouching attitude within the shadow of the wall. She would have -preferred to follow Don Rafael and the General in their rounds, but she -knew that was impracticable; Pedro would have stopped her at the gate, -and sent her to Florencia, or kept her close beside him,—and so even the -inferior pleasure of seeing and listening to the less attractive -stranger would have been denied her. Chinita was an imaginative child; -she used sometimes to stand upon the balcony with Chata, and gaze and -gaze far away into the blue which seemed to lie beyond the farthest -hills, and wonder vaguely what strange creatures lived there. Sometimes -her wild imagination pictured such uncouth monsters, such terrifying -shapes, that she herself was seized with nervous tremblings, and Chata -and Rosario would clasp each other and cry out in fright; but oftener -she peopled that world with cavaliers such as she had occasionally seen, -and stately dames such as she imagined Doña Isabel and the niña Herlinda -must be,—for the accidental mention of those names was as potent as -would have been the smoke of opium to fill her brain with dreams. By the -sight of Don José Ramirez in his picturesque apparel, part of these -vague dreams seemed realized; and even the quiet figure of Don Vicente -and the sound of his stranger voice had the charm of novelty. She placed -herself where she could best see his face, with infantile philosophy -contenting herself with the next best where the actual pleasure desired -was unattainable. She was very quiet, for she had naturally the Indian -stealthiness of movement, and she had besides a vague instinct that her -presence upon the corridor might be forbidden. Still she did not feel -herself in any sense an intruder; she felt as a petted animal may be -supposed to do, that she had a perfect right in any spot from which she -was not driven. - -But as Doña Feliz and the new-comer were long silent, she became -impatient, and half-resolved to settle herself to sleep there and then. -She had drawn her feet under her, covering them with the ragged edges of -her skirt, and drawing her scarf over her head and shoulders, tightly -over the arms which clasped her knee, looked out as from a little tent, -and instead of sleeping became gradually absorbed in the contemplation -of the face and figure which, when seen beside those of the dashing -Ramirez, had appeared gloomy and insignificant. The young man was -dressed in black; the close-fitting riding trousers, the short round -jacket, the wide hat, which now lay on the ground beside him, being -relieved only by a scanty supply of silver buttons,—a contrast to the -usual lavishness of a young cavalier; and in its severe outlines and its -expression of gloom, his face, as he sat in the moonlight, was in entire -harmony with his dress. How rigid looked the clear-cut profile against -the dead whiteness of the column against which it rested, his -close-cropped head framed in black, his youthful brow corrugated in -painful thought. Suddenly he lifted the dark eyes which had rested upon -Doña Feliz, and turned them on the fountain which was splashing within -the circle of flowering plants and murmured:— - -“I feel as though in a dream. Is it possible I am here, and she is gone, -gone forever? How often I have seen her by the side of the fountain, -raising herself upon the jutting stone-work to pluck the red geraniums -and place them in her hair! Even when I was a boy her pretty unstudied -ways delighted me,—and Herlinda as naturally as she breathed acted her -dainty coquetries. And to fancy now that all that grace and beauty is -lost to me, to the world, forever! that she is sacrificed—buried!” - -He spoke bitterly and sighed, yet with that tone of renunciation which -more completely than to death itself, marks the voices of the children -of the Church of Rome as they yield their loved ones to her cloisters. -It was in the voice of Doña Feliz, as she presently replied,— - -“It seems indeed a strange destiny for so bright a life; but against the -call of religion we cannot murmur, Vicente. Many and great have been the -sins of the Garcias. May Herlinda’s prayers, her vigils, her tears -condone them!” She crossed herself and sighed heavily. - -“I cannot accept even the inevitable so calmly,” cried the young man in -sudden passion. “I loved her from a child; I never had a thought but for -her! She was promised me when we were boy and girl! She used to tease -me, saying she hated me, and then with a soft glance of her dark eyes -disarmed my anger. She would thrust me from her with her tiny foot, and -then draw me to her with one slender finger hooked in the dangling chain -of a jacket button, and laughingly promise to be good, breaking her word -the next moment. She would taunt me when I sprang toward her in alarm as -she leaped from the fountain parapet, and in turn would cry out in -agonies of fright as I hung from the highest boughs of the garden trees, -or when I dashed by her on the back of a half-broken horse, stopping him -or throwing him perhaps on his haunches, with one turn of the cruel bit. -Through all her vagaries I loved her, and perhaps the more because of -them; and I fancied she loved me. Even later, when she had grown more -formal and I more ardent, I believed that her coy repulses were but -maiden arts to win me on.” - -“I always told Doña Isabel,” interrupted Feliz, “that such freedom of -intercourse between youth and maiden would but lead to weariness on one -side or the other. But she was a hater of old customs. She said there -was more danger in two glances exchanged from the pavement and the -balcony than in hours of such youthful chat and frolic.” - -“Yet this freedom was designed to bind our hearts together,” said -Vicente. “The wish of Doña Isabel’s heart for years was to see us one -day man and wife. Yet she changed as suddenly—more suddenly and -completely than Herlinda did. What is the secret? Is not Tres Hermanos -productive enough to provide dowers for two daughters? Is all this to be -centred on Carmen? Rich men have immured their daughters in convents to -leave their wealth undivided. Can it be that Doña Isabel—” - -“Be silent!” interrupted Doña Feliz, as she might have done to a foolish -child. “Let us talk no more of Herlinda, Vicente; it makes my heart -sore, and can but torture thine.” - -“No, it relieves me; it soothes me,” cried Vicente. “I have longed to -come here to talk to you. Doña Isabel is unapproachable. She has -relapsed once more into the icy impenetrability that characterized her -in that terrible time so many years ago. I can just remember—” - -“Let the dead rest,” cried Doña Feliz, sharply. “That is a forbidden -subject in Doña Isabel’s house. You are her guest.” - -Vicente accepted the reproof with a shrug of his shoulders, and Doña -Feliz added, as if at once to turn his thoughts and afford the sympathy -he craved, “Talk to me then, if you will, of Herlinda. Do you know where -she is now?” - -“Yes, in Lagos, in that dreariest of prisons the convent of Our Lady of -Tribulation. Think you Maria Santisima can desire such scourgings, such -long fastings, such interminable vigils as they say are practised there? -God grant the scoffers are right, and that the reputed self-immolations -are but imaginings,—tales of the priests to attract richer offerings to -the Church shrine. When I saw it, it was groaning beneath vessels of -gold and silver and wreaths of jewels. Oh, Feliz! Feliz! higher and -heavier than the treasures they pile on their altars are the woes these -monks and nuns accumulate upon our devoted country!” - -Doña Feliz glanced around warily, but an expression of genuine -acquiescence gleamed from her eyes. - -“You are where I have always hoped to see you,” she said in a low tone; -“but beware of a too indiscriminate zeal. They say Comonfort himself has -been too hasty, must draw back—retract—” - -“Retract!” cried Vicente. “Never! Down, I say, with these tyrants in -priestly garments,—these robbers in the guise of saints! The land is -overrun with them; their dwellings rise in hundreds in the sunlight of -prosperity, and the hovels of the poor are covered in the darkness of -their oppressions. The finest lands, the richest mines, the wealth of -whole families have passed into their cunning and grasping hands. There -is no right, either temporal or spiritual, but is controlled by them. -Better let us be lost eternally than be saved by such a clergy. What, -saved by bull-baiters, cock-fighters, the deluders of the widow and -orphan, the oppressors of the poor!” - -“You are bitter and unjust,” interrupted Doña Feliz; “remember, too, the -base ministers of the Church take nothing from the sanctity of her -ordinances.” - -“So be it,” answered Vicente. “Perhaps,” he added, with a short laugh, -“you think I have lost my senses. No, no; but my personal loss has -quickened my sense of public wrongs. In losing Herlinda, I lost all that -held me to the past,—old superstitions, old deceptions. The idle boyish -life died then, and up sprang the discontented, far-seeing, turbulent -new spirit which spurns old dogmas, breaks old chains, and cries for -freedom.” - -Vicente had risen to his feet; his face lighted with enthusiasm; his -pain was for a moment forgotten. The listening child felt a glow at her -heart, though his words were as Greek to her. Doña Feliz thrilled with a -purer, more reasonable longing for that liberty which as a child she had -heard proclaimed, but which had flitted mockingly above her country, -refusing to touch its ground. Her enthusiasm kindled at that of the -young man, though his sprung from bitterness. How many enthusiasms own -the same origin! Sweetness and content produce no frantic -dissatisfactions, no daring aims, no conquering endeavors. - -“You belie yourself,” she said, after a pause. “It is not merely the -bitterness of your heart which has made you a patriot. The needs, the -wrongs, the aspirations of the time have aroused you. Had Herlinda been -yours, you still must have listened to those voices. With such men as -you at his call, Comonfort should not falter. The cause he espoused must -triumph.” - -“Humph!” muttered Vicente, doubtfully, while Feliz, with a sudden qualm -at her outspoken approbation of measures subversive of an authority that -her training had made her believe sanctioned by heaven cried:— - -“Ave Maria Santisima! what have I said? In blaming, in casting reproach -upon the clergy, am I not casting mud upon our Holy Mother the Church?” - -“Feliz!” cried Vicente, impatiently, “that question too asks Comonfort. -Such irrational fears as these are the real foes of progress; and so -deeply are old prejudices and superstitions rooted, that they find a -place in every heart; no matter how powerful the intellect, how clear -the comprehension of the political situation, how scrupulous or -unscrupulous the conscience, the same ghostly fears hang over all. What -spells have those monks with their oppressions and their shameless lives -thrown over us that we have been wax in their hands? Think of your own -father,—a man of parts, generous, lofty-minded, but a fanatic. He -shunned the monté table, the bull-fight, and all such costly sports as -the _hacenderos_ love; he almost lived in the Church. But that could not -keep misfortune from his door: his cattle died; his horses were driven -away in the revolution; his fields were devastated; and he was forced to -borrow money on his lands. And to whom should he look but the -clergy,—who so eager to lend, who so suave and kind as they? And when he -was in the snare, who so pitiless in winding it around and about him, -strangling, withering his life?” - -“But, Vicente,” said Feliz, in a hard, embittered voice, “in our lot -there was a show of justice. If you would have a more unmitigated use of -pitiless craft, think of the fate of your own cousin Inez.” - -The child within the shadow of the wall was listening breathlessly. Her -innate rebellion against all authority made her quick to grasp the -situation; a secret detestation of the coarse-handed, loud-voiced -village priest who had succeeded Padre Francisco at Tres Hermanos -quickened her apprehension. She looked at Vicente with glistening eyes. -“Ah, well I remember poor Inez,” he said; “forced by her father to -become a nun, that at his death he might win pardon for his soul by -satisfying the greed of his councillors, she implored, wept, raved, fell -into imbecility, and died; and her sad story, penetrating even the -thickness of convent walls, was blackened by the assertion that she was -possessed of devils foul and unclean,—she, the whitest, purest soul that -ever stood before the gates of heaven.” - -His voice choked; he was silent and sank again into his chair. “And -Comonfort,” he muttered presently, “strives to conciliate wretches such -as these. He is a man, Feliz, who with all his courage believes a poor -compromise better than a long fight. Ah, the world believes Mexicans -savage, unappeasable, blood-thirsty. How can they be otherwise with -these blind leaders who precipitate them into those ditches which they -fondly hope will prove roads to liberty and peace!” - -Feliz looked at him with disquietude. “What, Vicente,” she said, “are -you a man to be blown about by every wind,—a mere ordinary revolutionist -seeking a new chief for each fresh battle?” - -Vicente flushed at the insinuation. “One cause and a _thousand_ chiefs -if need be,” he said. “But there is now a man in Mexico, Feliz, who must -inevitably become the head of this movement,—who, like the cause, will -remain the same through all mischances. To-day he is the friend of -Comonfort, but who knows? To-morrow—” - -“He may be his enemy,” ejaculated Feliz. “I wonder if in all this land -there can be found one man who can be faithful!” - -“To-morrow,” said Vicente, completing his sentence, “he may be the -friend and leader of all the lovers of freedom in Mexico; and if so, -_my_ leader. I have talked with that man, and he sees to the farthest -ramifications of this great canker that is eating out the very vitals of -our land. You will hear of him soon, Feliz, if you have not done so -already. His name is Benito Juarez.” - -Feliz smiled. “What, that Indian?” she said. “It is a new thing for a -gentleman of pure Spanish blood to choose such a leader. Ah, Vicente, -you disappoint me! It must be this Ramirez, who has in his every -movement the air of a guerilla, a free-fighter, who has infected you.” - -“No,” answered Vicente, sullenly, “Ramirez has no influence over me; -only the fortune of war has thrown us together,—a blustering fellow on -the surface, but so deep, so astute, that none can fathom him. He is not -the man I could make my friend.” - -“Where does he come from?” asked Doña Feliz with interest. “There is -something familiar to me in his voice or expression.” - -“A mere fancy on your part,” answered Vicente; “just such a fancy as -makes me glance at him sometimes as he rides silent at my side, and with -a sudden start clap my hand upon my sword. I have an instinctive dread -of him,—not a fear, but such a dread as I have of a deadly reptile. I -wonder,” he added gloomily, “if it is to be my fate to take his life.” - -Feliz shuddered. Chinita’s eyes flashed. - -“And yet once I saved him, when we were fighting against the guerillas -of Ortiz. He was caught in a defile of the mountains; four assailants -dashed upon him at once with exultant cries; and though he fought -gallantly, had I not rushed to the rescue he must have been killed -there. Together we beat the villains off, and he fancies he owes me some -thanks; and perhaps too I have some kindness for the man I saved,—and -yet there are times when I cannot trust myself to look upon him.” - -“Strange! strange indeed!” said Doña Feliz, musingly. “I have heard his -name before. Is he not the man who stopped the train of wagons by which -the merchants of Guanapila were despatching funds to make their foreign -payments, and who took fifty thousand dollars or more to pay his -troops?” - -“The same,” answered Vicente; “and those troops were reinforced by a -chain-gang he had released the day before,—vile miscreants every one. We -quarrelled over each of these acts; but he laughed us all—the merchants, -the government, myself—into good-humor again. He is one of those -anomalies one detests, and admires,—crafty, daring, licentious, -superstitious, yielding, cruel, all in turn and when least expected. He -will rob a city with one hand, and feed the poor or enrich a church with -the other. But here he comes!” - -The man thus spoken of was, indeed, crossing the court with Don Rafael, -who seemed to reel slightly in his walk, and was laughing and talking -volubly. “Yes, yes,” he was saying, as he came within hearing, “you are -right, Señor Don José; the herd of brood mares of Tres Hermanos is the -finest in the country. There are more than a hundred well-broken horses -in the pasture, besides scores upon scores that no man has crossed. I -sent a hundred and fifty to Don Julian a month ago. Doña Isabel -begrudges nothing to the cause of liberty.” - -“Then I will take the other hundred to-morrow,” said Ramirez, lightly. -Don Rafael stared at him blankly. There was something in the General’s -face that almost sobered him. The countenance of Gonzales darkened. - -“Believe me, Señor Comonfort shall know of your goodwill, and that of -the excellent lady Doña Isabel,” continued Ramirez, suavely. “She will -lose nothing by the complacency of her administrador,” and as he spoke, -he smiled half indulgently, half contemptuously, upon Don Rafael. - -“You promised me that here at least no seizures should be made,” -exclaimed Don Vicente, in a low indignant voice, hot with the thought -that even the men he had himself mustered and commanded were so utterly -under the spell of Ramirez that upon any disagreement they were likely -to shift their allegiance,—for those free companies were even less to be -depended upon than the easily rebellious regulars. - -“There have been no seizures, nor will there be,” answered the General, -laughing. “Don Rafael and I have been talking together as friends and -brothers; he has told me of his amiable family, and I him of my footsore -troops.” - -Vicente, silenced but enraged, glared upon Ramirez as he bade farewell -to Doña Feliz. As he took her hand, he bent and lightly kissed it. The -action was a common one,—Doña Feliz scarcely noticed it; her eyes rested -upon her son, who shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, his -garrulity checked, his gaze confused and alarmed. - -“We shall be gone at daybreak. You will be glad to be rid of us,” the -General said laughingly; “yet we are innocent folk, and would do you no -harm. Hark! how sweetly our followers are singing,”—and, indeed, the -plaintive notes of a love ditty faintly floated on the air. “My adieus -to the Señora de Sanchez and her lovely children.” - -While the General spoke thus, with many low bows and formal words of -parting, he was quite in the shadow of the wall. Doña Feliz could scarce -see his face, but Chinita’s eyes never left it. As he turned away, a sob -rose in her throat; but for a sudden fear, she would have darted after -him. Her blood seemed afire. There was something in the very atmosphere -stirred by this man that roused her wild nature, even as the advent of -its fellow casts an admonishing scent upon the air breathed by some -savage beast. - -Don Rafael stole away to bed, but Don Vicente and Doña Feliz continued -their interrupted conversation far into the night. Chinita sat in the -same place, and slumbered fitfully, and dreamed. All through her dreams -sounded the voice of the General Ramirez; all through her dreams -Gonzales followed him, with hand upon his sword. - -It was near morning, when at last the child awoke, chilled and stiff, -and found herself alone in the corridor. The moon had sunk, and only the -faint light of the stars shone on the vast and silent building; but she -was not afraid. She was used to dropping asleep, as did others of the -peasant class, where best it suited her, and at best her softest bed was -a sheep-skin. She sleepily crept to the most sheltered part of the -corridor and slept again. But the stony pillow invited to no lengthy -repose; and when the dawn broke, the sound of movement in the outer -court quickly roused her, and she ran out just in time to see the -officers hastily swallowing their chocolate, while Don Rafael, Pedro, -and a crowd of laborers, shivering in their _jorongos_, were looking on, -while the sumpter mules were being laden. At the village, the camp women -were already making their shrill adieus, taking their departure upon -sorry beasts, laden with screeching chickens, grunting young pigs, and -handfuls of rice, coffee, chile, or whatever edibles they had been able -to filch or beg, tied in scraps of cloth and hung from their wide -panniers, where the children were perched at imminent risk of losing -their balance and breaking their brown necks. It was not known, however, -that such accidents had ever happened, and the women jogged merrily -away, to fall into the rear when outstripped by their better mounted -lords. - -Don Rafael wore a gloomy face. A squad of soldiers had already been -despatched for the horses; his own herders were lassooing them in the -pastures, and they were presently driven past the hacienda gates, -plunging and snorting. He felt that had he not in Doña Isabel’s name -yielded them, they would have been forcibly seized; yet his conscience -troubled him. The night before he had drunk too much; the wine had -strangely affected him,—he had been maudlin and garrulous. These were -times when no prudent man should talk unnecessarily, and especially to -such a listener as the adventurer General José Ramirez. - -The neighing and whinnying of the horses, the hollow ringing of their -unshod hoofs upon the road-way, the shouts of the men, the shrill voices -of the women, all combined to fill the air with unwonted sounds, and -brought the family of the administrador early from their beds. As -Vicente Gonzales, after shaking hands coldly with Don Rafael, rode away -at the head of his band, he half turned in his saddle to glance at Doña -Isabel’s balcony. At the rear of the house, a faint glow was beginning -to steal up the sky and touch the tops of the trees which rose above the -garden wall, and tinge with opal the square towers of the church; he -remembered the good Padre Francisco, and piously breathed a prayer for -his soul. The drooping rose on the balcony of what he knew to be Doña -Isabel’s chamber seemed the very emblem of death and desolation. With a -sigh he pulled his hat over his eyes and rode on; but the General, José -Ramirez, who had been longer in his adieus, caught sight of Doña Rita in -the corner balcony, leaning over her two half-dressed children. Their -two heads were close together, their laughing faces side by side, their -four eyes making points of dancing light behind the black bars of the -balcony railing. - -Don José Ramirez was in a gentle mood; a sudden impulse seized him to -turn his horse and ride close to the building, turning his eyes -searchingly upon the children. Both coquettishly turned their faces -away. Rosario covered her eyes with her fingers, glancing coyly through -them; then kissing the tips of the other hand, opened them lightly above -him in an imaginary shower of kisses. No goddess could have sprinkled -them more deftly than did this infantine coquette. - -Ramirez answered the salute laughingly, then turned away with a frown on -his brow. The slight delay had left him behind the troop, amid the dust -of the restive horses. Yet he made no haste to escape the inconvenience, -but yielding for the moment to some absorbing thought rode slowly. The -voice of a child suddenly caused him to arrest his horse with an -ungentle hand. He looked around him with a start,—an object indistinctly -seen under a mesquite tree caused his heart to bound. The blood left his -cheek, he shook in his saddle. His horse, as startled as he, bounded in -the air, and trembled in every limb. A moment later and José Ramirez -laughed aloud. His name was repeated. “What do you there, child?” he -cried; “thou art a witch, and hast frightened my horse. And by my patron -saint,” he added in a lower tone, “I was startled myself!” - -Chinita the foundling came forward calmly, though her skirt was in -tatters, and her draggled scarf scarce covered her shoulders; but there -was an air about her as if she had been dressed in imperial robes. “Ah!” -she said quite calmly, “it is the smell of the blood that has startled -your horse; they say no animal passes here without shying and plunging, -since the American was killed!” - -Ramirez glanced around him with wild eyes. “Oh, you cannot see him now,” -cried the child; “that happened long ago. No, no, there is nothing here -that will hurt you. Why do you look at me like that? It is not I—a poor -little girl—who could injure you, but men like those,” and she pointed -to the columns of soldiers whose bayonets were glistening in the rising -sun. Her eye seemed to single out Gonzales, though he was beyond her -vision. The thought of Ramirez perchance followed hers, yet he only sat -and stared at her, his eyes fixed, his body shrunken and bowed. - -“See here,” she said slowly, raising herself on tiptoe, and with eager -hand drawing something from beneath her clothing, “I have a charm of -jet: Pedro put it on my neck when I was a baby. It will ward off the -evil eye. Take it; wear it. An old man gave it to Pedro on his -death-bed; he had been a soldier, a highwayman; he had fought many -battles, killed many men, yet had never had a wound! Take it!” She took -from her neck a tiny bit of jet, hanging from a hempen string, and -thrust it into his hand. - -Ramirez was astounded. He looked upon her as a vision from another -world,—he who was accustomed to outbursts of strange eloquence, even -from the lips of unclothed children amid those untutored peasantry. She -seemed to him a thing of witchcraft. His eyes fixed themselves on the -child’s face as if fascinated; he saw it grimy, vivacious, beautiful but -weird, tempting, mysterious. No angel, he felt, had stopped him on his -way. He took the charm mechanically, and the child, with a joyous yet -mocking laugh, fled away. He roused as from a spell, called after her, -tossed the charm into the air, and caught it again, and called once -more, but she neither answered nor stopped. He gazed around him once -again. A superstitious awe, akin to terror, crept over him; he -shuddered, thrust the talisman into his belt, and put spurs to his -horse. - -That day, for the most part, he rode alone, and when for a time he -joined Gonzales, he was silent; silent, too, was his companion, and -neither one nor the other divined the thoughts of the man who rode at -his side. - - - - - XV. - - -Years passed. The nine days’ feast of the Blessed Virgin, one of the -most charming of all the year, was being celebrated with unusual pomp in -the church at Tres Hermanos. Since the death of Padre Francisco, no -priest had been regularly stationed there; but at the expense of Doña -Isabel, one had been sent there to remain through the nine days sacred -to Mary, and the people gave their whole time to devotional exercises, -much to the neglect of the usual hacienda work. The crops in the fields -were untended, while the men crowded to Mass in the morning, and spent -their afternoons at the tavern-shop playing monté and drinking pulque; -while the women and children streamed in and out of the church,—the -women to witness the offering of flowers upon the altar, the children to -lay them there, happy once in the year to be chief in the service of the -beautiful Queen of Heaven. For though the image above the altar was -blackened by time and defaced by many a scar, the robes were brilliant, -and glittered with variously colored jewels of glass; the crown was -untarnished, and the little yellow babe in the mother’s arms appealed to -the strong maternal sentiment which lies deep in the heart of every -Mexican woman. - -Upon the first day of the feast not one female child of the many who -lived within the hacienda limits was absent from the church; and they -were so many that the proud mothers, who had spent no little of their -time and substance in arraying them, were fain to crowd the aisles and -doorways, or stand craning their necks without, hoping to catch a -glimpse of the high altar, as the crowd surged to and fro, making way -for the tiny representatives of womanhood, who claimed right of entrance -from their very powerlessness and innocence. Quaint and ludicrous looked -these little creatures, mincing daintily into the church, their -wide-spread crinolines expanding skirts stiffly starched, and rustling -audibly under brilliant tunics of flowered muslin or purple and green -stuffs. These dresses were an exact imitation in material and style of -the gala attire of the mothers. The full skirts swept the ground, and -over the curiously embroidered linen chemise which formed the bodice was -thrown the ever-present reboso, or scarf of shimmering tints. The -well-oiled black locks of these miniature _rancheras_ were drawn back -tightly from the low foreheads,—the long, smooth braids fastened and -adorned by knots of bright ribbon, and crowned with flowers of domestic -manufacture, their glaring hues and fantastic shapes contrasting -strangely with the masses of beauty and fragrance that each child -clasped to her bosom. In spite of its incongruities, a fantastic and -pleasant sight was offered; and Doña Rita, looking around her with the -eye of a devotee, doubted whether any more pleasing could be devised for -God or man. - -Within the sacred walls of her temple at least, the Church of Rome is -consistent in declaring that in her eyes her children are all equal; and -upon that springtime afternoon at Tres Hermanos, among a throng of -plebeian children from the village, knelt the daughters of the -administrador; and side by side were Doña Rita and a woman from whose -contact, as she met her on the court the day before, she had drawn back -her skirt, lest it should be polluted by the mere touch of so foul a -creature. - -Rosario and Chata (as Florentina was so constantly called that her -baptismal name was almost unknown) had already laid their wreaths of -pink Castillian roses upon the altar, and were demurely telling their -beads, when a startling vision passed them. - -It was Chinita, literally begarlanded with flowers,—wild-roses, pale and -delicate, long tendrils of jessamine, and masses of faint yellow cups of -the cactus, and scarlet verbenas, dusty and coarse, yet offering a -dazzling contrast of color to the snowy pyramid of lily-shaped blossoms, -hacked from the summit of a palm, which she bore proudly upon one -shoulder; while from the other hung her blue reboso in the guise of a -bag filled with ferns and grasses brought from coverts few others knew -of. The flowers made a glorious display as they were laid about the -altar, for there was not room for half upon it. The breath of the fields -and woodlands rushed over the church, almost overpowering the smell of -the incense, and there were smiles on many faces and wide-eyed glances -of admiration and surprise as Chinita descended to take her place among -the congregation. - -Five Mays had come and gone since she had stood under the fateful tree, -and given the jet amulet to the cavalier who had so roused and -fascinated her imagination; but whatever may have been its effect upon -its new possessor, its loss had certainly wrought no ill upon Chinita. -Though not yet fourteen years of age, she was fast attaining the -development of womanhood, and her mind as well as person showed a rare -precocity even in that land where the change from childhood to womanhood -seems almost instantaneous. But there was no coyness, as there was no -assumption of womanly ways in this tall, straight young creature, whose -only toil was to carry the water-jar from the fountain to Florencia’s -hut, perhaps twice in the day,—and who did it sometimes laughingly, -sometimes grudgingly as the humor seized her, but always spilling half -the burden with which she left the fountain before she lifted it from -her shoulder and set it in the hollow worn in the mud floor of the hut, -escaping with a laugh from Florencia’s scolding, and hurrying out to her -old pursuits, now grown more various, more daring, more perplexing, more -vexatious to all with whom she came in contact. - -A thousand times had it been upon the lips of Doña Rita to forbid the -entrance in her house of the foundling to distract the minds of Rosario -and Chata by her wild pranks; but aside from the fact that Doña Rita was -of a constitutionally indolent nature, averse even to the use of many -words and still more to energetic action, the child was a constant -source of interest. She carried into the quiet rooms a sense of freedom -and expansion, as though she brought with her the breezes and sunlight -in which she delighted to wander. She had too a powerful ally in Doña -Feliz, who kept a watchful eye upon her; and though she never, like her -daughter-in-law or the children, made a pet and plaything of the waif, -yet she was always the first to notice if she looked less well than -usual, or to set Pedro on his guard if her wanderings were too far -afield, or her absences too long. - -Upon this day as Chinita turned from the altar, while others smiled, a -frown contracted the brow of Doña Feliz, as for the first time perhaps -she realized that this gypsy-like child was in physique a woman. She had -chosen to wear a dress of bright green woollen stuff,—far from becoming -to the olive tint of her skin, but by some accident cut to fit the lithe -figure which already outlined, though imperfectly, the graces of early -womanhood. The short armless jacket was fashioned after the child’s own -fancy, and opened over a chemise which was a mass of drawn work and -embroidery; her skirts outspread all others, yet the flowing drapery -could not wholly conceal the small brown feet which, as the custom was, -were stockingless and cased in heelless slippers of some fine black -stuff,—more an ornament than a protection. But Chinita’s crowning glory -were the rows of many-colored worthless glass beads, mingled with -strings of corals and dark and irregular pearls, that hung around her -neck and festooned the front of her jacket. This dazzling vision, with -the inevitable soiled reboso thrown lightly over one shoulder, came down -from the altar and through the aisle of the church, smiling in supreme -content, not because of the glorious tribute of flowers she had plucked -and offered, nor with pride at her own appearance, gorgeous as she -believed it to be, but because of the delightful effect she supposed -both would leave on her aristocratic playmates; and much amazed was she -as she neared them to see Chata’s expressive nose assume an elevation of -unapproachable dignity, while Rosario’s indignation took the form of an -aggressive pinch, so deftly given that Chinita’s shrill interjection -seemed as unaccountable as the glory of her apparel. - -Chinita in some consternation sank on her knees, her green skirt rising -in folds around her, reminding Chata irresistibly of a huge butterfly -which she had that very morning seen settle upon a verdant pomegranate -bush. How she longed to extinguish Chinita’s glories as she had done -those of the insect, by a cast of her reboso. There was no malice in her -thought, though perhaps a trifle of envy, for she too loved brilliant -colors. She could not restrain a titter as she thought what Chinita’s -vexation would be; and with a face glowing with anger and eyes filled -with reproach, Pedro’s foster-child sailed haughtily past the sisters -while the untrained choir were singing hymns of rejoicing, with that -inimitable undertone of pathos natural in the voices of the Aztecs, and -the censers of incense were still swinging, and left the church,—longing -to rush back and to trample under foot the flowers she had so joyously -gathered, longing to tear off the fine clothes and adornments she had so -proudly donned. She pushed angrily past a peasant boy in tattered cotton -garments and coarse sombrero of woven grass, who was the slave of her -caprices, who had toiled in her service all day and upon whom she had -smiled when she entered the church, yet whom she now thrust aside in -rage as she left it, with a “Out of my way, stupid! What art thou -staring at? Thou art like blind Tomas, with his eyes open all day long, -yet seeing nothing.” - -“A pretty one thou,” cried the boy, angrily. “Dost suppose I am a -rabbit, to care for nothing but green? Bah! thou art uglier in thy gay -skirts than in thy old ones of red-and-white flannel!” - -But the girl had not lingered to listen to his taunts. She flew rather -than ran to her hut, which on account of the service in the church was -deserted. A crowd of ragged urchins who had taken up the cry of her -flouted swain, followed her, jeering and hooting, to the door which she -slammed in their faces. Not that they bore her any ill will; but the -sight of Chinita in her fine clothes, ruffling and fluttering like an -enraged peacock, was irresistibly exciting to the youths whom her lofty -disdain usually held in the cowed and submissive state of awe-stricken -admiration. - -Chinita, scarcely understanding her own miserable disappointment and -anger, began to disembarrass herself of her finery, flinging each -article from her with contempt, until she stood in the coarse red -white-spotted skirt, with a broad band of light green above the -hips,—which formed her ordinary apparel. As she stood panting, two great -tears rolling down her cheeks and two others as large hanging upon her -long, black lashes, she saw the door gently pushed open and before, with -an angry exclamation, she could reach it, a little brown head was thrust -in. - -“Go away!” cried Chinita, imperatively. “Thou hast been told not to come -here. Thy mother will have thee whipped, and I shall be glad, and I will -laugh! yes, I will laugh and laugh!” and she proceeded to do so -sardonically on the instant, gazing down with a glance of contemptuous -fury, which for the moment was tragically genuine, upon the little brown -countenance lifted to her own somewhat apprehensively, yet with a -mischievous daring in the dark eyes that lighted it. - -Chinita, with a child’s freedom and in the forgetfulness of anger, had -used the “thou” of equality in addressing her visitor; yet so natural -and irresistible are class distinctions in Mexico, that she held open -the door with some deference for the daughter of the administrador to -enter, and caught up her scarf to throw over her head and bare -shoulders, as was but seemly in the presence of a superior however -young. That done, however, they were but two children together, two -wilful playmates for the moment at variance. - -“Now, then! Be not angry, Chinita!” laughed Chata, looking around her -with great satisfaction. “What good fortune that thou art here alone! I -slipped by the gate when Pedro was busy talking, and Rosario was making -my mother and _mamagrande_ to fear dying of laughter by mimicking thee, -Chinita; and so they never missed me when I darted away to seek thee, -Sanchica.” - -“And thou hadst better go back,” cried Chinita, grimly, more piqued at -being the cause of laughter than pleased at Chata’s penetration; for in -choosing her green gown she had had in her mind the habit of green cloth -sent by the Duchess to Sancho Panza’s rustic daughter, and had teased -and wheedled Pedro into buying her holiday dress of that color,—because -when they were reading the story together Chata had called her Sanchica -and herself the Duchess, and for many a day they had acted together such -a little comedy as even Cervantes never dreamed of, in which they had -seemed to live in quite another world than that actually around them. -The tale of the “Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance” was a strange -text-book for children; yet in it they had contrived to put together the -letters learned in the breviary, and with their two heads close bent -over the page, these two, as years passed on, had spelled out first the -story, then later an inkling of the wit, the fancy, the philosophy which -lay deep between the two leathern covers that inclosed the entire -secular literature that the house of Don Rafael afforded. - -There were, indeed, shelves of quaint volumes in the darkened rooms into -which Chata sometimes peeped when Doña Feliz left a door ajar; but so -great was her awe that she would not have disturbed an atom of dust, and -scarce dared to breathe lest the deep stillness of those dusky rooms -should be broken by ghostly voices. But Chinita, less scrupulous, had -more than once, quite unsuspected, passed what were to her delightful -though grewsome hours in those echoing shades, and with the bare data of -a few names had repeopled them in imagination with those long dead and -gone, as well as with the figure of that stately Doña Isabel, who still -lived in some far-off city,—mourning rebelliously, it was whispered, -over the beautiful daughter shut from her sight by the walls of a -convent, yet who with seemingly pitiless indifference had consigned the -equally beautiful younger Carmen to a loveless marriage; for the latter -had married an elderly widower, and who could believe it might be from -choice? Chinita heard perhaps more of these things than any one, for she -was free to run in and out of every hut, as well as the house of the -administrador; and with her quick intelligence, her lively imagination, -and that faculty which with one drop of Indian blood seems to pervade -the entire being,—the faculty of astute and silent assimilation of every -glance and hint,—she was in her apparent ignorance and childishness -storing thoughts and preparing deductions, which lay as deep from any -human eye as the volcanic fires that in the depths of some vine-clad -mountain may at any moment burst forth, to amaze and terrify and -overwhelm. - -But Chinita was brooding over no secret thoughts as she began to smile, -though unwillingly and half wrathfully, as Chata eagerly declared how -well the green dress had transformed her into a veritable Sanchica, and -how stupid she herself had been not to guess from the first what her -clever playmate had meant; then she laughed again as she thought of the -billowy green in which Chinita had knelt, and the half-appeased -masquerader was vexed anew, and sat sullenly on the edge of the adobe -shelf that served as a bedstead, and tugged viciously at the knots of -ribbon in the rebellious hair which she had vainly striven to confine in -seemly tresses. She shook back the wild locks, which once free sprang -into a thousand rings and tendrils, and looking at Chata irefully from -between them, exclaimed,— - -“You laugh at me always! You are a baby; you read in the book, and yet -you know nothing. If I were rich like you, I would not be silent and -puny and weak as you are. I would be strong and beautiful, and a woman -as Rosario is; and I would know everything,—yes, as much as the Padre -Comacho, and more; and I would be great and proud, as they say the -Señora Doña Isabel is!” - -“But,” cried Chata, flushing with astonishment and some anger, “how can -I be beautiful and strong and like a grown woman at will? My grandmother -says it is well I am still a child, while Rosario is almost a woman; and -I do not mind being little, no, nor even that my nose turns back to run -away, as you say, from my mouth every time I open it; but it is growing -more courageous, I know,”—and she gave the doubtful member an -encouraging pull. “I do not mind all this in the least, while my father -and my grandmother love me; but my mother and you and every one else -look only at Rosario, and talk only of her—” and her lip trembled. - -“But do I talk _to_ Rosario?” asked Chinita, much mollified. “Do I ever -tell her my dreams, and all the fine things I see and hear, when I -wander off in the fields and by the river, and up into the dark cañons -of the hills? And,” she added in an eager whisper, “shall I ever tell -her about the American’s ghost when I see him?” - -“Bah! you will never see him,” ejaculated Chata, contemptuously, though -she glanced over her shoulder with a sudden start. “There is no such -thing. I asked my grandmother about it yesterday, and she says it is all -wicked nonsense. There could have been no American to be murdered, for -she remembers nothing about it.” - -“Oh!” ejaculated Chinita, significantly, and she laughed. “Then it is no -use for me to tell you where he is buried. If there was no American, he -could not have a grave.” - -“Yet you have found it!” cried Chata, in intense excitement, for the -story, more or less veracious, that had often been told her of the -murder of the American years before, and the return of his ghost from -time to time to haunt the spot accursed by his unavenged blood, had -taken a strong hold upon her imagination. “Oh, Chinita! did you go, as -you said you would, among the graves on the hillside? Did you go?” - -“Why, yes, I did go,” answered Chinita, slowly, winding her arms around -her knees, as she leaned from her high perch, her brown face almost -touching that of the smaller child, who still stood before her. “But I -sha’n’t tell you anything more, so you may as well go home. Ah, I think -I hear them calling you,” and she straightened herself up as if to -listen. - -“No! no! no!” cried Chata in an agony of impatience, “I will not go till -you tell me. I _will_ know! Oh, Chinita, if I were but like you, and -could run about at will, over the fields and up the hills!” The tears -rose to her eyes as she spoke,—poor little captive, in her stolen moment -of liberty feeling in her soul the iron of bondage to custom or -necessity. - -“Well, then,” said Chinita, deliberately, prolonging the impatience of -her supplicant, while the tears in the dark gray eyes lifted to her own -moved her, “I went through the cornfield. I drove Pepé back when he -wanted to go with me. Oh, how afraid that big boy is of me! Yes, I went -through the corn,—oh, it is so high, so high, I thought it was the very -wood where Don Quixote and Sancho Panza met the robbers; but I was not -afraid. And then I came to the beanfield, and oh, _niña_! I meant to go -again this very day, and bring an armful of the sweet blossoms to Our -Lady, and I forgot it!” clasping her hands penitently. - -“And well for thee that thou didst,” exclaimed Chata, “or a pretty -rating my father would have given thee! He says it is enough to make the -Blessed Virgin vexed for a year to see the good food-blossoms wasted, -when there are millions of flowers God only meant for her and the bees. -But, Chinita, I would I were a bee, to make thee cry as I wish! Thou art -slower than ever to-day. Tell me, tell me, what didst thou next?” - -“Well, did I not tell you I came to the beanfield,—what should I do but -go through it?” remonstrated Chinita; “and then I walked under the -willows. Ah, if you could only once walk under the willows, _niña_! it -is like heaven in the green shade by the clear water, and there are -great brakes of rushes, with the birds skimming over them. I saw among -them a stork standing on one leg, and he had in his mouth a little -striped snake, yellow and scarlet and black, which so wriggled and -twisted! Ah, and I saw, besides, little fish in the shallow water, and—” - -Chata sighed. She had unconsciously sunk upon the mud floor; her eyes -opened wide, as if in imagination she saw all those things of which, -though she was set in the very heart of Nature, her bodily eyes had -caught no glimpse. How in her heart of hearts the sheltered, cloistered -daughter of the administrador envied the wild foster-child of the -gate-keeper, who was so free, and from whom the woods and fields could -keep no secrets! “Go on!” she whispered, and Chinita said, in a sort of -recitative,— - -“Yes, I went on and on, not very long by the water’s edge, though I -loved it, but up the little path through the stones and the thorny -cacti. Oh, but they were full of yellow blossoms, and they smelled so -sweet; but they were full of prickles too, and as I went up the steep -hillside they caught my reboso every minute, and when I stood among the -graves my hands were tingling and smarting, and I was half blind and -stumbling. I was so tired, oh, so tired! and I sat down and rubbed my -hands in the sand. It was very still there; it seemed to me that a -little wind was always singing, but perhaps it was the dry grass -rustling; but as I bent down to listen, I fell asleep, and when I woke -up the sun was no higher in the sky than the width of my hand, and I had -no time to look for anything.” - -“Ah, stupid creature!” cried Chata, after a moment’s silent -disappointment. “Why did you not tell me so before? I must be missed. I -shall be scolded,” and in a sudden panic she rose to her feet and turned -to the door. - -“Stay! stay!” cried Chinita, eager to give her news, as she saw Chata -about to fly. “Though I did not look, I found something. Oh, yes, in -black letters, so big and clear!” - -Chata returned precipitately. “Letters—what letters?” she cried. - -“Big black letters, J and U and A and N; and the letters for the -American name—how do they say it? Ash— Yes, Ashley—it is not hard—and -that he was born in the United States, and murdered here in May,—yes, I -forget the figures, but I counted up; it was just fourteen years ago, -upon the 13th of this very month. It was all written out upon a little -wooden cross, which had fallen face down upon the grave I fell asleep -upon. I might have looked for it a hundred years and not have found it, -but I had scraped away the sand from it to rub my hands. It is thick and -heavy; I could scarcely turn it over to read the words,—but they are -there. You may tell Doña Feliz there was an American.” - -“No, I shall say nothing,” said Chata, dreamily. “She likes not to hear -of murder or of ghosts. Ah, the poor American! why does his spirit stay -here? This is not purgatory. Ah, can it be he cannot rest because he -died upon the 13th?—the unlucky number, my mother says.” - -“Let us make it lucky,” said Chinita, daringly. “Let us say thirteen -Aves and thirteen Pater Nosters for his soul.” - -But Chata shook her head doubtfully, and started violently as a servant -maid, grimy and ragged like all her clan, and panting with haste, thrust -open the door, exclaiming,— - -“_Niña_ of my soul, your lady mother declares you are dead. Doña Feliz -has searched all the house, and is wringing her hands with grief. Don -Rafael has seized Pedro by the collar, and is mad with rage because he -swears you have not passed the gate; and here I find you, with your -white frock all stained with dirt, and that beggar brat filling your -ears with her mad tales. The Saints defend us! Sometime the witch will -fly off—as she came—no one knows where. But you, _niña_, come, come -away!” and the excited woman dragged the truant reluctantly away; while -Chinita, thrusting her tongue into her cheek, received the epithets of -“beggar brat” and “witch” with a contempt which the gesture only, rather -than any words, fluent as she was in plebeian repartee, could at that -moment adequately express. - - - - - XVI. - - -Though Chinita as was usual was made the scapegoat for Chata’s -fault,—Doña Rita averring that the girl possessed an irresistible power -for evil over her own innocent children,—Chata on this occasion felt -herself most heavily punished, for Don Rafael strengthened his wife’s -fiat against the dangerous temptress, the gate-keeper’s child, by -absolutely prohibiting her entrance to his house. Chata wept for her -playmate, and for many days Rosario moped and sulked; while Chinita hung -disconsolate—as the Peri at the gate of Paradise—about the entrance to -the court, finding small solace in the young fawn Pepé had given her, -though she twined her arms around it and held its head against her -bosom, that its large pensive eyes might seem to join in the appeal of -her own. And perhaps the two aided by time and Chata’s grief might have -conquered; but there was a sudden interruption of the quiet course of -life at Tres Hermanos. - -One day Chinita found the whole house open to her; there was no one -there either to welcome or repulse her save Doña Feliz. Don Rafael, with -his wife and children, had obeyed a sudden call, and had hastened to the -dying bed of Doña Rita’s mother. For the first time in her life Chata -had left the hacienda. Rosario had twice before gone with her mother to -visit relatives, but for various reasons Chata had remained at home. -Doña Rita seemed half inclined to leave her at this time also; but Don -Rafael cut the matter short by ordering her few necessaries to be -packed, and in a flutter of excitement, perhaps heightened by the frown -upon her mother’s face, Chata took her seat in the carriage that was to -bear her far beyond the circle of hills which had heretofore bounded her -vision. - -What a pall seemed to fall upon the place when they were all gone! -First, a great stillness pervaded the court and corridors where the -children’s voices were wont to ring; and then hollow, ghostly noises -woke the echoes. A second court was now opened which long had been -closed, though the fountains played there, and the flower-pots were all -rich with bloom. The doors of rooms which before at best had been only -left ajar were opened wide; and Doña Feliz, with a few of her most -trusty servants, swept out the long accumulated dust, and let the light -stream in upon the disused furniture. Chinita had caught glimpses of -these things before, indistinct, uncertain, as though they were far -memories of a past existence. She and Chata had often talked of them in -days when they played at being grand ladies, and in imagination they -were rich and beautiful; but when she actually stood in the broad -sunshine, and saw the gilt and varnish, the variegated stuffs and great -mirrors, the reality seemed a dream, from which she feared to waken. For -all these material things appealed to something in the child’s nature -which it appeared impossible she should have inherited from a long line -of plebeian ancestors,—a something that was not a mere gaping admiration -for what was bright and beautiful and dazzling by its very height of -separation from the poor possibilities of her life, but which one would -say had sprung directly from the influences of lavish splendor. There -was an impulse toward appropriation and enjoyment in the actual touch of -these attributes of an aristocratic life, an instinctive knowledge of -the uses of things she had never before seen or heard of, which seemed -to come as naturally into her mind as would the art of swimming to a -duckling that had passed its first days in the coop with its -foster-mother the hen. Nothing surprised her, and the delight she felt -was not merely that of novelty, but that of the satisfaction of a -long-felt want. Doña Feliz had not forbidden her entrance when she first -saw her at the door of Doña Isabel’s apartment, but watched her with -grave surprise as she wandered through the long rooms, sometimes picking -up a fan, a hand-glass, a cup, and unconsciously assuming the very air -and walk of a grand lady,—an air so natural that even in her tattered -red skirt it never for a moment made her appear grotesque. - -Don Rafael returned home in the midst of the work of renovation. He had -left his family with the dying mother, forced to return by the -exigencies of business,—but ill pleased to leave them, for the roads -were full of bandits, and the country was infested with wandering bands, -as dangerous in their professed military character as the openly avowed -robbers. They enjoyed immunity in all their depredations and deeds of -violence, because they were committed under the standard of the Governor -of the State, José Ramirez,—for to his _rôle_ of military chieftain the -adventurer had added that of politician. In this _rôle_ he had hastened -the tottering fortunes of President Comonfort to their fall, by seizing -in his name a large sum of money belonging to foreign merchants, and -with it buying over the troops under his command,—first to declare him -military governor, and then to join with enthusiasm the clerical forces, -which sprang into being as if by magic, bringing with them money in -plenty, and gay uniforms, which put to shame the rags which the Liberals -wore and which the resources of the legitimate government were -insufficient to replace with more attractive garb. For months the name -of José Ramirez had rung through the land in alternate shouts of triumph -and joy and howls of execration. The prison doors had been thrown open, -and hundreds of convicts had joined his ranks, ready to die for the man -who had set them free,—not for gratitude, but in an excess of admiration -for a spirit more lawless, more daring, than their own. - -Chinita used to stand half aloof, and listen to these things, as wild -rumors of them reached the hacienda, a burning pride glowing in her -heart as she heard of deeds that made men tremble and stand aghast; and -in imagination she saw the tall dark man whom she had made her hero -riding through the streets in the full panoply of military splendor, -followed by a train of mounted soldiers as gorgeous as himself,—then the -blaring band, the gay foot soldiers shouting his name, and that terrible -battle-cry of “Religion y Fueros,” in which so many infernal deeds were -done; and last of all a multitude of half-clad men, women, and boys and -girls like herself in ragged garments, not hungry nor wretched, though -with all the grime and squalor of poverty upon them. She loathed them in -her heart, though she did not consciously separate herself from their -kind; but often ran to the covert of the tall corn, or the shade of some -tree, and sat down and drew her reboso over her head, laughing softly -and breathlessly, for had she not given this man the amulet which gave -him a charmed life? Sometimes she heard of attacks made upon him,—how -bullets had gone crashing through his carriage windows, how in the very -streets of the city, as well as on the battle-field, his horses had been -shot under him; but he had never once been hurt. She was a ragged, -barefoot girl, but here was something which in her own eyes enwrapped -her as with velvet and ermine,—the belief that she had some part in that -dazzling career that attracted the gaze, the wonder, the terror of what -was to her mind the whole wide world. - -Through those hot summer days Pedro saw little of his foster child; and -sometimes when he did see her, she would pass by as if he were nothing -to her, or would shudder sometimes when he laid his hand with gentle -violence upon her arm, and forced her in from the glaring sunshine, in -which she often wandered for hours, unconscious of the heat which was -burning her skin browner and browner, but painting roses on her cheeks, -and filling her eyes with light; and sometimes she would come softly up -behind him and throw the brown tangle of her hair over his eyes, almost -smothering him in the golden crispness of its ruddy ends, and kiss him -wildly between his bushy eyebrows, calling herself his wicked Chinita, -his naughty child, until he would draw her on his knee and wipe away her -streaming tears with the tenderness but none of the familiarity of a -parent, and while he did so, sigh and sigh again, and wonder what these -wild moods would lead to. - -When Doña Feliz began the renovation of the family apartments Pedro -stole in there one day when she chanced to be quite alone, and asked if -it was true that Doña Isabel would soon return; it was many years—yes, -twelve and more—since she had left them; and the _niña_ Carmen, was it -true that she was married? And the Señorita Herlinda? “Was it quite -certain,” and his voice grew low,—“was it quite certain she was in a -convent?” - -“Did not Don Vicente tell you that?” queried Doña Feliz; “and his sad -looks, did they not tell you? Ah, unhappy girl, where should she be but -in a convent? Where else in the world should she hide, who was so at -feud with life?” She started, remembering herself; but Pedro was looking -at her with impassive stolidity. “Yes, yes,” she continued impatiently, -“she has chosen her path; she has left the world forever.” - -“But they say,” droned Pedro, monotonously, “that the convents will be -opened and all the nuns be made free when the Señor Juarez takes his -turn to rule. They say the day he enters the palace the dead men’s hands -will open, and all their riches escape from their grasp. The silver and -gold will be taken from the altars and given to the poor, and the -monasteries and nunneries be pulled down, that the people may build -their houses with the stones.” - -Doña Feliz laughed. It was not often any sound of merriment passed her -lips, and then not in scorn. “Dreams, dreams, Pedro!” she said. “Are you -as foolish as the rest, and think the new law would give all the poor -wealth, or even the despoiled their own? Do you think Juarez himself -believes it? No, no! he is a sly fox; and while the Church and Comonfort -were the lion and bear struggling over the carcass, he strives to glide -in and steal the flesh. Do you think he will divide it among you hungry -ones? No! these politicians are all alike, and whether with the cry of -religion or liberty, fight and plot only for their own aggrandizement, -and the poor country is forgotten, as it is drenched by the blood of her -sons. There is not one true patriot in all this distracted land.” - -She spoke rather to herself than Pedro, who shook his head with a sort -of grim obstinacy. “I am thinking to go away, Doña Feliz,” he said. “You -know the Señor Juarez is at liberty, and there will be bloody days soon -if Zuloaga does not yield him his rightful place in Mexico. I have a -mind to see a few of them. You know I was a good soldier in Santa Anna’s -time, and as I sit in the gate I hear the sound of the cannon and the -rattle of musketry and the voice of my old commander Gonzales, only it -comes now from the lips of his son; and I feel I must go.” - -Doña Feliz looked at him steadily. She knew her countryman well, and -though she doubted not that something of the martial spirit of the time -was stirring within him, she was equally certain that a second and more -potent reason was prompting Pedro to leave Tres Hermanos; but she only -said,— - -“Then you wish to join Vicente Gonzales? They say he, with all his band, -has thrown his fortunes in with those of Juarez. Well, well, perhaps -anything was better than that he should be linked with Ramirez. If -Vicente is a traitor, it is at least with a noble aim, not for mere -plunder. There was something strange, forbidding, terrible, about that -man Ramirez. Did you notice his face, Pedro, when he was here?” - -Pedro shook his head, returning with pertinacity to his own plans. “You -will talk to Don Rafael for me, will you not, Señora?” he said, with a -trace of the abject whine in his tone that marked the habit of serfdom, -which a few years of nominal freedom had done little to alter, “and with -your good leave I will go, and take Chinita with me.” He spoke -hesitatingly, as though fearful his right would be disputed. - -“Take Chinita!” exclaimed Doña Feliz. “What, to a soldiers’ camp, to her -ruin! You are mad, Pedro. No, she shall remain here with me. I will take -her into the house. I will teach her to sew. She shall be my child -rather than my servant! I—” she stopped in extreme agitation, for within -the doorway the child stood. - -“I will be no one’s servant!” she said, proudly drawing herself up; “and -as to going to the Indian’s camp—ah, I know a better place than that,” -and she nodded her head significantly. “You shall leave me, Father -Pedro, with your Doña Isabel!” - -Doña Feliz and Pedro started as if they had been shot. - -“I came to tell you she is coming,” continued the child. “I was out -beyond the granaries, letting my fawn browse on the little hill, and as -I was looking toward the gorge I saw a horseman coming, and far behind -him was a carriage and many men. Is all ready?” and she glanced around -her with the air of a prophetess. “Hark! the courier is in the court -now. Doña Isabel will not be long behind him.” - -Pedro hastened from the room with an exclamation of alarmed amazement. -“Go, go!” cried Feliz. “You are too late!” for she knew in her heart -that it was in very fear of this visit, and to remove the child from the -chance of encountering Doña Isabel, that Pedro had proposed to leave the -hacienda; and here was Doña Isabel herself,—for strangely enough, -neither of them doubted that what the child had assumed was true. The -thoughts of Doña Feliz were inexplicable even to herself. She felt as -though she was placed in some vast and gloomy theatre, with the curtain -about to rise upon some strange play, which at the will of the actors -might become either comedy or tragedy. Though of late she had felt -certain that Doña Isabel would return to the hacienda, that very act -seemed dramatic, the precursor of inevitable complications. - -“Why could she not be content in the new life she had chosen?” muttered -Doña Feliz. “What voice has been sounding in her ears, to call her back -to resurrect old griefs, to walk among the spectres of long-silent -agonies and shame? Foolish, foolish woman! Yet as the magnet attracts -iron, so thy hard heart is drawn by these bitter remembrances. Go, go! -thou child!” she exclaimed aloud, and almost angrily. “Doña Isabel would -be vexed to see thee in her room. Go, and keep thee out of her way!” She -gazed after Chinita with a look of perplexity and pain, as with a bound -of irresistible excitement the girl sprang out upon the corridor, her -laugh rising through the still air as if in notes of defiance. “What -said the child?” muttered Doña Feliz. “‘Leave me with your Doña -Isabel’?” - - - - - XVII. - - -From the city of Guanapila to the hacienda of Tres Hermanos the road -runs almost continually through mountain defiles, where on either hand -the great masses of bare rocks rise so precipitously that it seems -impossible that man or beast should scale them; and here, where Nature’s -aspect is most terrible, man is least to be feared. But there are -intervals where broad flat ledges hang above the roadway, or where it -crosses plateaus shaded by scrub-oak or mesquite and even grassy dells, -where after the rains water may be found, offering charming -camping-grounds during the noon-tide heat; and precisely at such places -the anxious traveller has need to look to his weapons, and picket his -horses and mules in such order that no sudden attack may cause a -stampede among them, and that they may, if need offer, form a barricade -for their defenders. In those lawless times few persons ventured forth -without a military escort, and if possible sought additional security by -accompanying the baggage trains which by arrangement with the party for -the moment in power enjoyed immunity from attack by roving bands of -soldiery, and were too formidable to be successfully assailed by the -ordinary cliques of highwaymen. Seldom indeed was there found a person -so reckless as to venture forth attended only by the escort his own -house afforded; and daring indeed was the woman who would undertake a -two days’ journey in such a manner. The least she might expect would be -to find her protectors dispersed, perhaps slain, and herself a -captive,—held for an exorbitant ransom, and subjected to the hardships -of life in the remote recesses of the mountains, and to indignities the -very report of which might daunt the most reckless or the bravest. - -Yet in spite of all this, a carriage containing a lady and her maid—for -such were their relative positions, though both were alike dressed in -plain black gowns and the common blue reboso—entered in the early -afternoon of a summer’s day the narrow gorge that led by circuitous -windings through the rocks to the great gorge that formed the entrance -to the wide valley of Tres Hermanos, whose entire extent offered to the -eye the wondrous fruitfulness so rich and varied in itself, so startling -in contrast to the desolation passed to reach it. - -The midday halt had been a short one, for it was the rainy season, and -progress was necessarily slow over the swollen watercourses and the -obstructions of accumulated sands and pebbles, the masses of cactus and -branches of trees and shrubs, which had been brought down by recent -storms. At times it seemed impossible that the carriage, although drawn -by four stout mules, could proceed, and from time to time the servant -looked anxiously through the window. But the mistress was equal to all -emergencies, herself giving directions to the perplexed driver and his -assistant, and though she had been travelling for more than two days -over a road usually easily passed in one, allowing no sign or word of -weariness or impatience to escape her. - -But this carriage and its occupants would have appeared to a passer-by -the least important factor in the caravan of which it formed a part; for -it was encircled and almost concealed by a band of mounted men, clad in -suits of brownish leather, glimpses of the red waist-band glistening -with knives and pistols showing from beneath their striped blankets, -long knives and lassos hanging at their saddle-bows, rifles in their -sinewy right hands, while from beneath their wide hats their keen eyes -investigated sharply every jutting rock and peered into the distance -with an air of half-defiant, half-fearful expectancy,—for these were men -taken from her own estate, who idle retainers as they had been in her -great bare house in the city where Doña Isabel Garcia had lived for -years in melancholy state, thrilled with clannish fidelity to their -mistress and passionate love for their _tierra_ to which they were -returning, and with that vague delight in the possibility of a fight -which arouses in man both chivalrous and brutish daring, as the smell of -blood arouses the love of slaughter in the tamest beast. - -In front of these rode the conductor of the party clad in a -half-military fashion, as became the character he had earned for -eccentric daring, the reputation of which perhaps more than actual -bravery made him eminently successful in guiding safely the party wise -or rich enough to secure his escort. This man was known as Tio Reyes, -though his appearance did not justify the honorary title of Uncle, for -he was still in the prime of life; but it was applied to him in tones of -jesting yet affectionate respect by his followers who had joined the -party with him, and adopted by the others to whom he was a stranger,—for -at the last moment he had appeared just as they were leaving Guanapila, -and with a brief word to the mistress, to which in much surprise and -some annoyance she had agreed, had placed himself at their head. - -In the rear of those we have described came four or five mules laden -with provisions, necessaries for camping, and some private baggage; -these were driven by _arrieros_ who ran at their sides, for the -travelling pace of horses did not exceed that of those trained runners. - -The journey, wearisome as it had proved, had so far been made without -alarms, and upon nearing the boundaries of Tres Hermanos much of the -anxiety though none of the vigilance of the escort subsided; when -suddenly upon the glaring sunshine of the day, all the hotter and -clearer from the recent rains, rose in the distance a sort of mist, -which filled the narrow road and blurred the outline of the towering -rocks. The guide paused for a moment and glanced back at the escort. -Each hand grasped tighter the ready rifle; at a word the carriage was -stopped, the baggage mules were driven up and enclosed within the square -hastily formed by the armed men,—for upon that clear day, after the -rains, the tramp of many feet was requisite to raise that cloud of dust, -and these precautions were but prudent, whether the advancing troop were -friends or foes. - -Tio Reyes, after disposing his force to his satisfaction, rode forward -with his lieutenant to meet the advancing host, which in those few -moments seemed to fill the entire range of vision, though at first with -confusing indistinctness, as did the sounds that came echoing from rock -to rock. The cries of men rose hoarsely above a deep and rumbling -undertone, which resolved itself at last into the lowing of cattle and -the bleating of sheep,—harmless and terrified wayfarers, but driven and -preceded by a troop of undisciplined soldiery, ripe for deeds more -tragic than the plunder of vaqueros and shepherds, who would be more -likely wisely to seek shelter in the crevices of the rocks than to defy -numbers before whom they were helpless. - -“Señora of my soul!” cried the servant, catching a word from one of the -men, “we are lost! Virgin of Succors, pray for us! These are some of the -men of his Excellency the Governor, and you know they stop at nothing. -Ah, what a chance to gain money is this! Once in the mountains what may -they not demand for you? _Ave Maria Sanctissima!_ Ah, Señora, if you -would but have listened to the Señorita! to me!” - -“Silence!” said the lady, in a tone as of one unused to hear her actions -commented upon. “Silence! thou wilt be safe. If we are captured, thou -wilt not be a prize worth retaining; it will be easy to induce them to -take thee to Guanapila, and obtain a reward from my cousin, Don -Hernando.” - -“No, no!” cried the woman, brought to her senses by this quiet scorn and -the startling proposition of her mistress. “Could I leave your grace? -No, no! imprisonment, starvation, even to be made the wife of one of -those bandits!” and a faint smile curled the damsel’s lip, for she was -not ugly, and knew something of the gallantries of Ramirez’s -followers,—“anything rather than desert my lady! Ay, my life! whom have -we here?” - -It was Tio Reyes undoubtedly, and with him was a military stranger, a -gallant young fellow, and handsome, though his hands and face were -covered with dust, and something like a large blood-stain defaced the -breast of his blue coat. “Pardon, Señora,” he exclaimed, bowing most -obsequiously and removing his wide hat, disclosing a young and vivacious -countenance, “I am Rodrigo Alva, your servant, who kisses your feet, -captain of this troop of horse, of the forces of his Excellency Don José -Ramirez, Governor of Guanapila.” - -“And I am the Señora Doña Isabel Garcia de Garcia,” responded the lady, -with dignified recognition of the young man’s courteous -self-introduction; “and as I am unaware of any cause for detention, I -beg to be permitted to proceed toward my hacienda, which I desire to -reach before night closes in.” - -“It is not my desire to molest ladies,” said the captain, gallantly; -“and I have besides received express orders to defend your passage and -facilitate it in every way.” - -“I have no acquaintance with Señor Ramirez,” said Doña Isabel in -surprise; “yet more than once have I been indebted to his courtesy,” and -she glanced at Tio Reyes. “He it was who sent me this worthy guide. I -know not why the Señor Ramirez takes such interest in my personal -safety, especially as we are politically opposed;” and she added with a -daring which had somewhat of girlish archness, strange from the lips of -Doña Isabel, “he has not the name of a man given to gallantries.” - -“No, rather to gallant deeds,” said the young captain, his voice -accentuating the distinction. “But you, Doña Isabel, like us who serve -him, must be content not to inquire too closely into his motives.” - -“Whatever they may be,” retorted she, in a voice of displeasure, “they -are not such as will spare my flocks and herds;” and she frowned as a -stray ox, upon whose flank she recognized the well-known brand of Tres -Hermanos, bounded by the carriage, from which the escort had gradually -withdrawn, and were now exchanging amicable salutations with the more -advanced of the host which they would have been equally pleased to -fight. - -The young man bowed in some confusion. “The men must be fed,” he said. -“These come from the ranchito del Refugio, Señora, and I regret to say -the huts are burned down and the shepherds and vaqueros scattered; one -poor fellow was killed in pure wantonness.” - -“And you dare tell me this!” cried Doña Isabel, in violent indignation, -which for the moment overcame her wonted calmness. - -“It was but to explain,” interrupted Captain Alva, “that we encountered -the famous Calvo there. He has succeeded in raising three hundred men or -more to march to the assistance of the double-dyed traitor Juarez. -Fortunately, but a portion of his troops were with him; the rest have -joined Gonzales,—so our work was easy, though the fellows fought well. -Three or four were killed, a few wounded, the rest fled to the -mountains, and we succeeded in securing the cattle and sheep; and I hope -your grace will be consoled in knowing they are destined to feed good -patriots.” - -Doña Isabel waved her hand impatiently. “What matter a few animals?” she -said. “But the poor shepherds,—they must be looked to. And the -wounded—what of them?” - -“_Canalla!_” laughed the captain, carelessly, “one or two are with us -here, tied on their saddles. They will do well enough. Others lay down -under bushes to shelter their cracked heads. But one there is, Señora, a -foreigner, a mere boy, who was in the party by chance they say, just a -boy’s freak,—but, my faith! he did a man’s portion of fighting, and has -a wound to end a man’s life. He must die if he rides much farther lashed -to his horse;” and the young soldier, half a bandit in lawlessness, and -in his perplexed notions of honor, perhaps too, scarce free from -blood-guiltiness, sighed as he added, “but this is no subject for a -lady’s ear. Permit, Señora, that my troops and their belongings pass by, -and you may then proceed in all peace and safety.” - -“Thanks, Señor,” said Doña Isabel, adding half hesitatingly: “And the -wounded youth,—a foreigner, I think you said?” - -“By his looks and tongue, English,” answered the officer, with his hand -to his hat as a parting salute. But Doña Isabel’s look stopped him. - -“You pity this poor wounded creature,” she said, “and I can do no less. -You are compelled to travel in haste, and the city—if that is your -destination—is far distant.” - -Doña Isabel spoke as if under some invisible compulsion and as against -her will, and paused as if unable to utter the proposal that trembled on -her lips; but the voluble young officer, with the eagerness of desire, -divined what she would say, and so lauded the appearance and bearing of -the wounded prisoner that to her own amazement Doña Isabel found herself -making room for him in her carriage, much to the surprise of her maid -Petra, who was mounted upon the led horse, which in thought her mistress -had at first destined to the use of her unexpected guest. - -However, when under the superintendence of Captain Alva and Tio Reyes -the youth was transferred from his horse to the carriage, Doña Isabel -saw at once that his strength was so nearly spent that even with most -careful handling it was doubtful whether he would reach the hacienda -alive. She shrank away as his fair young head was laid back upon the -dark cushions, and his long limbs were disposed upon blankets and -cushions, as much to avoid contact with that frame so evidently of alien -mould as to give all the space possible to the almost unconscious -sufferer. She scarce looked at him, as with effusive thanks Alva bade -her farewell, but forced her eyes, though with no special interest or -regret, upon the portion of her flocks that was driven bleating before -her carriage, with mechanical kindness closing the window as the horned -cattle, bellowing and pawing the dust, followed, and breathing a sigh of -relief as the last of the revolutionary force rode by, and the sound of -their noisy march grew fainter, and she realized that her own escort had -fallen into their places around her carriage, the slow motion of which -indicated that her interrupted journey was resumed. - -For some time the thoughts of Doña Isabel were necessarily directed to -her wounded guest. The wound in the shoulder had been bandaged with such -skill and care as could be offered by the self-trained doctor of the -rancho, for the nonce become army surgeon; and it would doubtless have -done well but for exposure and fatigue, which had induced fever, in -which the patient muttered uneasily and even at times became violently -excited, looking at Doña Isabel with eyes of inexpressible brilliancy, -catching her cool white hands in his own burning ones and calling her in -endearing accents names which, though untranslatable by her, were sweet -to her ear. Perhaps, they were those of mother or sister,—she almost -longed to know. Later, when under her tendance and that of the grooms, -who when she motioned for the carriage to be stopped often came to her -assistance, he sank into uneasy slumber, she had opportunity to wonder -at the impulse that had induced _her_ to receive this stranger of a -race, that whether American or English, she had long abjured, and to -feel once more as she gazed upon his wan features something of the -bitter detestation with which she had looked upon Ashley’s dead face. - -Doña Isabel started; the thought had entered her mind just as they were -emerging from the great chasm of rocks which gave entrance to the plain, -and she saw once more the Eden from which she had been driven. The house -was so far distant still that she caught, across the fields of tall -corn, but a mere suggestion of its flat roofs and the square turrets at -the corners of the encircling walls; but though more distant still, the -tall chimney of the reduction-works rose clearly defined against the -sky,—so clearly that she could see where a few bricks had fallen from -the cornice, and how a solitary pigeon was circling it in settling to -its nest. What a picture of solitariness! Doña Isabel groaned, and -covered her face with her hand. It was as she had known it would be. The -first objects to meet her gaze were those that could waken the darkest -and bitterest memories. Why had she come? Oh that she could retrace the -rough path that she had traversed! - -The wounded man groaned; he was fainting. “Hasten, hasten!” she cried, -“send Anselmo forward; bid them prepare a bed. The road is not so rough; -let them drive faster!” - -Thus Doña Isabel’s words belied the desire of her heart, for she could -not by her own wish have approached her home too slowly. This boy was a -stranger, not even brought thither by her will, as the other had been; -yet as the other had driven her forth, this one was hastening her back. -Was it fancy, or did the boy’s lips pronounce a name? No, no! it was but -her excited imagination. No wonder! Did not the earth and sky, the wide -circle of the hills, all cry out to her, “What hast thou done? Where is -Herlinda?” - - - - - XVIII. - - -Although Chinita had divined aright when she declared that the carriage -she had seen in the distance could be no other than that of Doña Isabel, -and the sounds which penetrated from the court announced the arrival of -her outrider, she was wrong in supposing that the lady herself would be -speedily at hand. There was a long delay in which Doña Feliz had time to -recover outwardly from the agitation into which she was thrown, and -accustom herself to this verification of her foresight, when upon -hearing of the marriage of Carmen she had felt a conviction that Doña -Isabel in her loneliness and the unaccustomed lack of interests around -her would be irresistibly attracted to the home she had virtually -forsworn. - -Don Rafael having listened eagerly to the courier’s account of the -meeting with Ramirez’s band, left him to give fuller details to the -anxious villagers who gathered around,—many of whom had sons or husbands -at that part of the hacienda lands known as the ranchito del -Refugio,—and rushed up to Doña Feliz with the news, then down again to -the court to mount a horse which had been instantly saddled, and -followed by a clerk and servants galloped away to give meet welcome to -the lady who had just entered upon her own domains. - -Calling the maids, Doña Feliz caused the long-disused beds to be spread -with fresh linen, and completed the preparations for this vaguely yet -confidently expected arrival. “She had felt it in the air,” she said to -herself, for she knew nothing of any theory of second sight, nor had -ever reasoned, on the other hand, that even the most trivial -circumstances of life must work toward some given result, which they -instinctively foreshadow to the observant, as the bodily eye makes out -the reflection of a material object in a dimmed and besmirched mirror. -She bestirred herself as if in a dream, her mind full of Doña Isabel and -the past. Yet like an undercurrent beneath the flood of her thoughts -flowed the idea of the new element that Doña Isabel was bringing with -her. “A _foreigner_!” she muttered, as if she could scarce believe her -words. “Can it be possible that the hand once stung can dally again with -the scorpion? Ah, no! necessity wears the guise of heresy, but it is not -possible that Doña Isabel can forget.” - -She glanced around her; Chinita had disappeared. Doña Feliz saw her no -more until the long-delayed carriage rolled into the court, when she -descended to greet her mistress. - -The long summer’s day had almost waned, and so dark was the court that -torches of pitch-pine had been stuck into rude sconces against the -pillars, and the face of Doña Isabel looked wan and ghastly in the lurid -and flickering glare. She could not descend from the carriage until the -wounded youth had been lifted out. Doña Feliz had never seen but one man -so fair. She started as her eyes fell upon the yellow masses of hair -that lay disordered upon his brow, but pointed to a chamber which a -woman ran to open, and into which the stranger was carried: while Doña -Isabel, cramped and stiff, leaned upon the arm of Don Rafael, and -stepped to the ground. As she did so she would have fallen but for two -strong young hands which caught hers, and as she involuntarily held them -and steadied herself she turned her eyes upon the face which was level -with her own. Her eyes opened widely, and with an exclamation of actual -horror she threw Chinita from her with a sudden and violent struggle, -and passed proudly though tremblingly across the court. - -Don Rafael and Doña Feliz followed, too astounded to make one movement -to assist their lady’s ascent of the stairs; but when they reached the -corridor and heard the door of the bed-chamber heavily closed, they -turned toward each other, their faces pale in the twilight. “Her -thoughts are serpents to lash her,” murmured Doña Feliz; adding with a -sort of national pride, “The Castillian woman may choose to ignore, but -she can never forget or forgive.” - -Don Rafael shrugged his shoulders. How much with some races a shrug may -signify! His then was one of dogged resolution. “It is well,” it seemed -to say; and he muttered, “As the mistress leads, the servant must -follow,” while his mother, shaking her head doubtfully, pointed to the -court below. - -Chinita had rushed furiously away from the carriage and the group of -men, who after the first silence of surprise had broken into but -half-suppressed laughter, which was soon lost in the babel of greetings -that the disappearance of Doña Isabel gave an opportunity for -exchanging, and scarcely knowing in her blind rage where she went, had -thrown herself upon one of the stone seats that bordered the fountain, -and with her small clinched fist was beating the rugged stone. Pedro -stood near her, his face as indignant as her own, vainly endeavoring -with a voice that shook with anger to soothe her wounded pride, while -with one hand he strove to lead her away. She spoke not a word. -Suddenly, as the young face of the girl was lifted to the light, Feliz -clasped her hands together, and leaned eagerly forward. She motioned to -Don Rafael,—she would not break the spell by speech; but unheeding her -he left the corridor and walked away, and presently Pedro was obliged to -hasten to his duties at the doorway, and the girl and the woman were -left alone in the enclosure. Doña Feliz leaned motionless over the -railing. Chinita, still beating the stone with her fist, sat upon the -edge of the fountain. With her native instinct of propriety, to meet -Doña Isabel she had put on her second best skirt—not the green one—and -all her necklaces circled her throat. Her hair was closely braided, but -curled wilfully round her brow and the nape of her neck. She pulled at -it abstractedly in a manner she had when excited. Her face was turned -aside, but to Doña Feliz there was something strangely familiar in her -attitude,—something which suggested other personalities, but of whom; -which recalled the past, but how? - -While Chinita still sat there, Doña Isabel came out of her chamber and -crossed to the side of Feliz. Her face quivered as her eyes fell on the -child, and she laid her nervous white hand upon Feliz’s arm. The two -women looked at each other, but said not a word; the eyes of the one -were full of reproach, those of the other of defiant distrust. When they -turned them upon the court again, the girl had moved noiselessly away. -Her passion of anger was spent, and with the instinct of the Indian -strain in her mixed blood, she had gone to hide herself away in some -sheltered corner and brood sullenly upon her wrongs. - -As she passed through the many courts, reaching at last that upon which -the church opened, she was so absorbed that she did not notice she was -closely followed by a man who had been very near when Doña Isabel had -repulsed her, and who with a few apparently careless questions had -possessed himself of all there was to know of Chinita’s history. - -“Look you!” said one, “did not Pedro say that a man as black as the -devil dropped her into his hands? Who knows but she is the fiend’s own -child? Vaya, she struck me over the face with talons like a cat’s only -last week.” - -“And well thou deservedst it,” cried the boy called Pepé. But he was -laughed down by a shrill majority, for Doña Isabel’s unaccountable -repulse of her had turned the tide of public opinion strongly against -the foundling; and the woman toward whom Tio Reyes—for he it was—now -turned for additional particulars, rightly judging that in such matters -female memories would prove most explicit, crossed herself as she opined -“that the fox knows much, but more he who traps him, and that Pedro who -had found the girl could best tell whence she came,”—a saying which -elicited many nods and exclamations of approval, for Pedro had never -been believed quite honest in the matter. A wild story that he had -received the babe from the hands of a beautiful and pallid spectre which -had once been seen to speak with him in the corridor, and that this was -the ghost of some lovely woman he had murdered in those early days when -he and Don Leon were comrades in many a wild adventure, had passed into -a sort of legend, which if not entirely accepted, certainly was not -utterly disbelieved by any one. - -“Go thy way! She is the devil’s own brat,” cried the wife of the man -Chinita had once attacked. - -“Ay, to be sure!” cried another; “was it not to be remembered how she -had struggled and screamed when the good Father Francisco baptized her, -and had sputtered and spat out the salt which the good priest had put in -her mouth like a very cat. And little good had it done her, for she had -never been called by a Christian name.” - -“Tut! tut!” said the new-comer, “what need of a name has such a pretty -maid as that, or of a father or mother either? Though ye women have no -mercy, she’ll laugh at you all yet. The lads will not be blind, eh -Pancho?” - -“That they will not!” cried the lad Pepé, throwing a meaning glance at -Pancho as if daring him to take up the cudgels in behalf of his old -playfellow. “What care I who she is? She’s not the first who came into -the world by a crooked road; and must all the women hint that it began -at the Devil’s door because they can’t trace it back? Ay, they know -enough ways to the same place.” - -“Well said, young friend!” cried Tio Reyes with a hearty slap on the -boy’s shoulder. “But, hist! here comes Pedro—with an ill look too in his -eye. Ah! I thought so,” as the men suddenly became noisily busy with the -unsaddling of their horses, and the women slipped away to their -household occupations. “Tio Pedro is not a man to be trifled with. But, -ah, there goes the girl!” and in a moment of confusion he adroitly left -the court without being seen, and as has been said followed her steps -till, as she crouched behind one of the buttresses of the church, he -halted behind another and looked at her keenly, impatient with the -uncertain light, eager to approach her before it darkened, yet waiting -stoically until she was settled in a sullen crouching attitude, probably -for that vigil of silence and hunger in which a ranchero’s anger usually -expends itself, or crystallizes into a revengeful memory. - -After some minutes, during which the girl neither sobbed nor moved, he -suddenly bent over and touched her on the shoulder. She was accustomed -to such intrusions, and shook herself sullenly, not even looking up when -an unknown voice accosted her. “Hist, thou! I have something for thee.” - -“I want nothing, not manna from Heaven even.” - -“’T will prove better than that.” - -“Then keep it thyself. Thou’rt a stranger. I take neither a blow from a -woman nor a gift from a man.” - -“Ah!” said the man, coming a little nearer and laying a hand lightly on -her shoulder, “if thou wilt have no gift, shall I _tell_ thee -something?” - -The girl shrugged her shoulder uneasily under his hand. “I am not a baby -to care for tales,” she said contemptuously; yet the man noticed she -turned her head slightly toward him. - -“Thou art one of a thousand!” he ejaculated admiringly. “Hey now, proud -one, suppose I should tell thee who thou art,—what wouldst thou give Tio -Reyes for that?” - -“Bah!” said the girl, “I have never thought about it.” Yet she was -conscious that her heart began to beat wildly and her voice sounded -faint in her ears. A little picture formed itself before her eyes, of -Pepé and Marta and Ranulfo and a score of others, waifs of humanity, and -she herself on a height looking down upon them. She had never -consciously separated herself from them,—she had never even wished that -she, like them, had at least a mother; but presently she was conscious -of a new feeling. Yet she laughed as she said, “I was born then like -other children,—I had a mother?” - -“That had you; but I am not going to sing all that’s in the book, -_niña_. The wise man talks little and the prudent woman asks few -questions, and thus fewer lies are spoken.” - -“But thou art not my father?” queried Chinita, insolently, yielding to a -sudden apprehension that seized her, and turning full upon the stranger. - -“God deliver me!” answered he; “badly fared the owl that nourished the -young eaglet.” - -“Tell me who I am!” cried Chinita, in a sudden passion of eagerness -clutching the man’s arm. - -“Tut! tut! tut! that is not my business; and as you will not hear my -pretty little tale,”—for Chinita thrust him violently aside,—“I will -give you but one word of warning and be gone: the old hind pushes at the -young fawn, but they both make venison.” - -Chinita was accustomed to the obscure phraseology and symbolical -meanings of the thousand proverbs used by her country people, and she -instantly caught the idea the speaker sought to convey; but its very -audacity held her silent for some moments. It was only after she had -gazed at him long and searchingly that she could stammer, “Doña -Isabel—and I—Chinita—the same—of one blood!” - -The man nodded, but put his finger upon his lip. He feared perhaps some -wild outburst of surprise or exultation; but instead she said in an awed -whisper, “Is she then my mother?” - -Tio Reyes leaned against the church and burst into irrepressible though -silent laughter. “What next will the girl dream of?” he ejaculated at -length, and laughed again. - -“What, am I then such a fool?” asked Chinita, coolly, though with inward -rage. “Look you, if you had told me yes, I would not have believed you -any more than I believed when Señor Enrique said that she had the young -American killed who died so many years ago. Bah! one thing is as foolish -as the other,” and she turned away disdainfully. - -“What!” exclaimed the man, eagerly, “do they say that? Humph! Well, -things as strange as that have happened in her day.” - -“But that is a lie,” cried Chinita, excitedly; “it was only because Doña -Isabel would not interfere to save his son from being shot as murderer -and _ladron_ that Enrique said so. He went away himself the day after, -and he it was who led Calvo to the rancho del Refugio. But what has that -to do with us?” and now first, perhaps because there had been time for -the matter to take shape in her mind, she showed an eager and excited -curiosity. “Tell me who I am; you surely have more to tell me than that -I was born Garcia!” - -The man stared, then cried, “And is not that enough? Why, for a word -thou canst be as good as Doña Isabel’s daughter. With that face of thine -she dare not refuse thee anything.” - -Chinita looked at him as if she would have torn his secret from him. -Strange to say, not a suspicion that he was jesting with her entered her -mind. Even as she stood there almost in rags, she felt instinctively -that she was far removed from him. The one thought that she was a -Garcia, one of the family whom she looked upon as the incarnation of -wealth and power, overpowered every other emotion, even that of -curiosity. She was vexed, baffled that he said no more, yet felt as -though she had known all, and had but for a moment forgotten. She even -turned away from him with a momentary impulse to rush into the presence -of Doña Isabel and assail her with the cry, “Look at me! Why did you -thrust me away? I too am a Garcia!” - -“Stay!” cried Tio Reyes, as she started from his side. Her wild thoughts -had flashed by so rapidly that, quick though he was to read the -countenance, he had caught scarce an inkling of what had passed through -her mind, and was certain only of the half-dazed dislike with which she -looked at him. It irritated and disappointed him. - -“What, girl!” he said, “is not this news worth so much as a ‘thank you’? -Is it nothing to you whether you are the dust of the roadway or a jewel -of the mine? Well, I lied to you. Ah! ah! what know I who you are? It -was my joke! Tio Reyes always likes a jest with a pretty girl.” - -“But this is no jest,” said Chinita, quick to perceive that the man was -already half repentant of his words; “you can better put the ocean into -a well, than shut up the truth when it is once out. Ah, I did not need -you to tell me I was no beggar’s brat, picked up by chance on the plain. -I have heard them say that Pedro has rich clothes which I was wrapped -in. He has always laughed at me when I have asked about them, but all -the same he shall show them to you this very night.” - -“Chut!” interrupted the man, “what should I know of swaddling clothes? -’T is just a maid’s folly to think of such trifles. They would not prove -thee a Garcia, any more than the lack of them belies it, or my mere word -insures it!” - -“That which puzzles me is,” said Chinita, gravely, turning her head on -one side and looking at him keenly by the dim light, “why you have told -me this. Have you been sent with a message from—from those who left me -here?” - -“No, by my faith,” said the man, laughing; “and why do I laugh, think -you? Why, you are the first one who ever asked Tio Reyes for a reason. -Does anybody who knows me say, ‘Why did you take Don Fulano with all his -dollars safe through the mountains, and then allow that poor devil De -Tal, who had not so much as a four-penny piece, to be shot down like a -dog by the wayside?’ No, even the village idiot knows Tio Reyes has -reasons too great to be tossed from one to another like a ball; and yet -you ask me why I have told you the secret I have kept for years, and -perhaps expect an answer! No, no! that plum is not ripe enough to fall -at the first puff of wind.” - -“I will tell you one thing, though you tell me nothing,” said Chinita, -shrewdly, after a pause: “It is not from love to Doña Isabel that you -have told me this, nor for love of me either. What good have you done me -by telling me I am a Garcia? Why, if I had had the sense of a parrot, I -might have known it before.” It seemed to her in her excitement as if, -indeed, she had always known it. - -“A word to the wise is enough,” said the man, mysteriously. “Keep your -knowledge to yourself, but use it to your advantage. You were sent like -a package to Doña Isabel years ago, but stopped by a clumsy messenger. -She finds you in her path now; let her find something alive under the -shabby coverings. God puts many a sweet nut in a rough shell, many a -poison in despised weeds!” - -“Oh!” cried Chinita, with a wicked little laugh, though even at that -moment the chords of kinship thrilled, “I am but a weed to Doña Isabel, -eh? Shall I go to her and say, ‘Here is a Garcia to be trodden down’?” - -She said this with so superb an air of derision that the man who -unconsciously all his life had been an inimitable actor in his way, -muttered a deep _caramba_ of enthusiastic admiration. - -“I would by all the saints I could stay here to see how you will goad -and sting my grand Señora,” he said vindictively. “Ay, remember you are -a Garcia, with a hundred old scores to pay off. I have put the cards in -your hands,—patience, and shuffle them well!” - -“Patience, and shuffle your cards,”—those cards simply the knowledge -that she was a Garcia, with presumably the wrongs of parents to avenge. -The thoughts were not very clear in her mind, but the instincts of -resentment of insult and of filial devotion were those which amid so -much that is ungenerous, evil, and fierce, ever pervade the breast of -the Mexican. She turned again to ask almost imploringly, “My father—my -mother—who were they?” when she found she was alone. The stranger had -extorted no promise of secrecy, offered no bribe; it was as if he had -put a weapon in her hand, knowing that its very preciousness and -subtlety would prevent her from revealing whence she had received it, -and would indicate the use to which it was to be turned. - -Chinita leaned against the buttress and pondered. Strangely enough, she -did not for a moment think to seek the man and demand further -explanation. As she felt he had divined her character, so she divined -his. He had said all he would say. After all, it was enough. At the end -of an hour she left that spot, which she never saw after without a -thrill of the heart, and walked straight to the doorway where Pedro sat. -He was eating his supper mechanically, with a disturbed countenance, -which cleared when he saw her. - -“They are _tamales de chile_, daughter,” he said, pushing toward her the -platter, upon which lay some morsels of corn-pastry and pepper-sauce, -wrapped in corn-leaves. “Eat, thou must be hungry.” - -Pedro sighed, for perplexity and vexation had destroyed his own -appetite, and thought enviously, as Chinita’s white teeth closed on the -soft pastry, which was yellow in comparison, “It is a good thing nothing -but unrequited love keeps the young from supping,—and that only for a -time.” - -The gate-keeper watched Chinita narrowly as she was eating and drinking -atole from the rough earthen jar. There was some change in her he could -not understand, quite different from the passion in which he had last -seen her, or the languor which would naturally succeed it. She did not -talk, and something kept him from referring to the scene in the -courtyard; he felt that she would resent it. Two or three times she bent -over him and touched his hand caressingly; yet he was not encouraged to -smooth her tangled hair, or offer any of those awkward proofs of -affection which she was wont to receive and laugh at or return as the -humor seized her; neither did he remind her that it was getting late, -but at last rose and took from his girdle the key of the postern. - -“Put it back, Pedro!” she said in her softest voice. “I shall never -sleep in the hut with Florencia and the children again; yet be not -afraid, I will not go to the corridor either. There is room and to spare -in yon great house.” She nodded toward the inner court, muttered a -good-night, and before Pedro could recover from his surprise -sufficiently to speak, swiftly crossed the patio and disappeared. - -Pedro looked after her stupefied. He realized that a great gulf had -opened between them; that figuratively speaking, his foster-child had -left him forever. He looked like one who, holding a pet bird loosely in -his hand, had beheld it suddenly escape him, and soar across a wide and -bridgeless chasm. Would it dash itself into atoms against the opposite -cliffs, or perchance reach a safe haven? Such was the essence of the -thoughts for which Pedro framed no words. “God is great,” he muttered at -length, “and knows what He does;” adding with a sort of heathen and -dogged obstinacy, “but Pedro still is here; Pedro does not forget -_niña_!” He looked up as if to some invisible auditor, crossed himself, -then wearily threw himself upon his pallet; but weary as he was, the -strong young subject of his cares was sunk in deep and dreamless sleep -long before he closed his eyes. - - - - - XIX. - - -Once within the court, Chinita paused and looked around her cautiously. -The doors of the lower rooms stood open, and she might have entered any -one of them unnoticed and found a shelter for the night. But she was in -no mood for solitude. Indeed it was hard for her to check a certain wild -impulse that seized her, as she saw a faint glimmer of light which -streamed through a slight opening of a door on the upper corridor, and -that urged her to rush at once into the presence of Doña Isabel and -claim recognition. To what relationship, and to what rights, she did not -ask herself; a positive though undefined certainty that Doña Isabel -herself would know, and would be forced to yield her justice, possessed -her. - -Chinita was now a child neither in stature nor mind, but though so young -in years, had reached the first development of her powers with the -mingled precocity of the Indian and Spaniard, fostered by a clime that -seems the very elixir of passion. She had been maturing rapidly in the -last few months, and as she stood that night in the faint starlight, the -last trace of childhood seemed to drop visibly from her. She folded her -arms on her breast, and sighed deeply,—not for sorrow, but as if she -breathed a life that was new to her, and her lungs were oppressed by the -weight of a strange and too heavily perfumed atmosphere. - -In her absorption Chinita was unconscious that she was observed,—but it -chanced that Don Rafael Sanchez and his mother had just left the Señora -Doña Isabel, and were passing through the upper corridor to their own -apartments. The gallery was wide and they were in the shadow, but a -stray gleam of light touched the upturned face of the girl and exhibited -it in strong relief within the framing of her waving hair. As they -caught sight of it, they involuntarily paused to look at her. - -“I do not wonder,” whispered Feliz “that such a face is an accusing -conscience to Doña Isabel. There is a strange familiarity in every -feature; and what a spirit, too, she has,—one even to glory in strife!” - -Don Rafael nodded. “There has always seemed to me something in that -child to mark her as the offspring of a dominant family,” he said; “it -is inevitable that she must break the lines an adverse Fate has cast -about her. Others such as she stretch out a hand to Vice; if something -better comes to her, who are we to hinder it?” - -The brow of Doña Feliz contracted. “Ay, Rafael,” she murmured, “what a -change a few miserable years have wrought! Once I was a sister to Doña -Isabel, and now—” - -“You are no traitress,” interposed Don Rafael, “and it is by -circumstance only that the change has come. Console yourself, dear -mother, and remember we are pledged. Though we seem false to her mother, -only so can we be true to Herlinda.” - -He breathed the name so low that even Doña Feliz did not hear it; she -listened rather to the beating of the heart that seemed to repeat -without cessation the name of one so loved and lost. “How strange it is, -Rafael,” she said presently, “that I have such persistent, such mocking -dreams, which against my reason, against all precedent, create in me the -belief that all is not ended for Herlinda Garcia.” - -Don Rafael looked at her musingly. - -“There is a man called Juarez who has dreams such as yours,” he said; -“but they are of the freedom of a race, not of one woman alone. But he -is hardly able to work miracles. Yet, mother, this truly is the time of -prodigies; what think you this boy, the young American that Doña Isabel -brought hither, calls himself?” - -“I have asked him,” she said, “but he did not understand me. Oh, Rafael! -my heart stood still when I saw him first; yet after all he is not so -very like—” - -“Yet he has the same name, Mother. It may be but chance; those Americans -are half barbarians as we know,—they forget the saints, and seek to -glorify their great men by giving their children as Christian names the -surnames of those who have distinguished themselves in battle or -statesmanship. Sometimes, too, a mother proud of the surname of her own -family gives it to her son. It may have been so with this man. When I -gave him pen and paper, and bade him write his name, it was thus: -‘Ashley Ward.’” - -The name as spoken by Don Rafael was mispronounced, would have been -hardly recognizable in the ears of him who owned it; yet to Doña Feliz -it was like a trumpet blast. “Strange! strange! strange!” she repeated -again and again. “Can it be mere chance?” - -“That we shall soon know,” said Don Rafael. “These Americans blurt out -their affairs to the first comer, expecting help from every quarter. -There is no rain that falls but that they fancy it is to water their own -field. Nay, mother,” as Doña Feliz made a movement toward the stairway, -“go not near the man to-night; he has fever, and is in need of quiet. -Old Selsa is with him, and he can need no better care. He is safe to -remain here many days; let him rest in peace now. And do you, mother, -try to sleep; you are weary and worn.” - -With the filial solicitude of a true Mexican, the man, already -middle-aged, took his mother’s hand fondly and led her to the door of -her own apartment. There she detained him long in low and earnest -conversation, and when on leaving her he looked down into the court it -was entirely deserted. - -In glancing around her, Chinita’s eyes had caught no glimpse of the -figures above, perhaps because they had been diverted by a faint glimmer -of light at one angle of the courtyard; and remembering that this came -from the room to which the wounded man had been carried, she darted -swiftly and noiselessly toward it, and in a moment had pushed the door -sufficiently ajar to admit of her entrance, and had passed in. She -arrested her footsteps at the foot of the narrow bed, which extended -like a bier from the wall to the centre of the room. There was not -another article of furniture in the apartment, except a chair upon which -the sick man’s coat was thrown; but Chinita’s eyes, accustomed to the -vault-like and vacant suites of square cells that made up the greater -part of the vast building, were struck with no sense of desolation. A -slender jar of water, and a number of earthen utensils of different -forms and shapes, containing medicaments and food, were gathered upon -the floor near the bed’s head; and on a deep window-ledge was placed a -sputtering tallow-candle, which had already half filled with grease the -clay sconce in which it was sunk. - -As Chinita leaned over the foot of the bed and peered through her -unkempt locks at its occupant, he looked up with a start, and presently -said something in an appealing tone, which certainly touched her more -than the words, could she have understood them, would have done. He had -in fact exclaimed in English, with an unmistakable American intonation, -“Heavens, what a gypsy! and what can she want here in this miserable -jail they have left me in?” - -She thought he had perhaps asked for water, so she gave him some, which -was not unacceptable,—though it irritated him that after giving him the -cup, she took up the candle and held it close to his face while he -drank. She was in the mood for new impressions however rather than for -kindness, and the sight of a strange face pleased her. Burning with -fever though he was, and tossing with all the impatience natural to his -condition, he could not but notice the totally unaffected ease with -which she made her inspection. He might have been a curly-headed infant -instead of a man, so utterly unconcernedly did she look into his -dark-blue eyes, and note the broad white brow upon which his damp yellow -hair clustered, even touching lightly with her finger the firm white -throat bared by the opened collar sufficiently to expose the clumsily -arranged dressings on the wounded shoulder. Instantly, with a few deft -movements, she made them more comfortable, for which the young man -thanked her in a few of the very scanty words of Spanish at his -command,—at which she laughed, not ironically, but with a sort of -nervous irrelevance, thinking to herself the while, “He is -beautiful—bless me, yes! as beautiful as they say the murdered American -was! Who knows? this one may come from the same district! It must be but -a little place, his country,—there cannot be such a very great world -outside the mountains yonder; they touch heaven everywhere. Look now, -how white his arms are, and his brow, where the sun has not touched it! -and how red his cheeks! But that must be with the fever.” And so half -audibly she made her comments upon the wounded stranger, seemingly -entirely unconscious or regardless that there was any mind or soul -within this body she so frankly admired,—lifting his unwounded arm -sometimes, or turning his face into better view, as she might have done -parts of a mechanism that pleased her. - -“Evidently she thinks me wooden,” he said with a gleam of humor in his -eyes. “As I am dumb to her, she believes me also senseless and -sightless. Thanks, for taking away that ill-smelling candle,” as with -the offending taper in her hand she passed to the other side of the bed. -Then she stopped and laughed, and he remembered that he had seen the old -woman who had been left in charge of him arrange her sheepskins there -and throw herself upon them. Until the young girl had come, old Selsa’s -snores had vexed him; since that he had forgotten them, though now they -became audible again. As Chinita laughed, she placed the candle-stick -upon the window-ledge and looked around her, stretching herself and -yawning. The hour was late for her, the diversion caused by sight of the -blond stranger and the little service she had rendered him had relaxed -the tension of her mind, and she felt herself aweary; the shadows fell -dark in every corner of the room,—there was something grewsome in its -aspect even to Chinita’s accustomed eyes. It subdued her wild and -reckless mood, and she scanned the place narrowly for something upon -which she might lie. Presently the young man saw her glide toward the -sleeping nurse, and deftly, with a half mischievous, half triumphant -expression upon her face, draw out one of the sheepskin mats upon which -the old woman was lying, and taking it to the opposite side of the bed -arrange it to her liking upon the brick floor, and sinking upon it -softly and daintily as a cat might have done, compose herself to sleep. - -The candle on the window-sill sputtered and flickered; old Selsa snored -in her corner, seemingly undisturbed by the abstraction of a part of her -bed; the shadows in the apartment grew longer and longer; the eyelids of -the young girl closed, her regular breathing parted her full lips. The -young man had painfully raised himself upon one arm, and assured himself -of this. He himself was dropping off into snatches of slumber which -promised to become profound, when suddenly with a start he found himself -wide awake, and staring at a draped figure which had noiselessly glided -into his chamber. Save for the candle it bore he would have thought it a -visitant from another world; but his first surprise over, he recognized -it as that of a woman. He was conscious that his heart beat wildly; his -fever had returned. Where had he seen this pale proud face, these -classic features, these dark penetrating eyes? For a moment again he -felt as if swinging between heaven and earth, between life and death. -Ah! yes, he comprehended,—he had been brought thither in some swaying -vehicle, and this woman had been beside him; she perhaps had saved his -life. - -He murmured a word of thanks, but she did not notice it. “Señor,” she -said in a voice soft in courtesy, “I pray you forgive me that I had for -a little time forgotten my guest. I trust you lack for nothing? Ah! -what—alone?” and with a frown, she made a motion as if to awaken the -servant Selsa. He understood the gesture though not the words, and -stopped her by one as expressive. - -“No, no!” he exclaimed. “I too shall sleep; and she is old. I would not -awaken her. See, if I need anything a touch of my hand will rouse this -girl,”—and the young man indicated by a turn of his head and arm the -recumbent figure which his visitor had not observed. - -With some curiosity she moved to the opposite side of the bed, and -bending over lightly removed the fringe of the reboso which shaded the -face of the sleeper. Doña Isabel started, and a slight exclamation -escaped her lips as she turned hurriedly away,—as hurriedly returning, -and shading the candle with her hand, that its light might not fall upon -the eyes of the sleeper, she gazed upon the young girl long and -earnestly. Unmindful of herself, she suffered the full glare of the -candle to illuminate her own countenance; and as he looked upon it, the -young American thought it might serve as the very model for the mask of -tragedy. Nothing more pitiless, more remorseless, more sombre than its -expression could be imagined; yet as she gazed, a flush of shame rose -from neck to brow. Her eyes clouded, her breath came with a quick gasp. -She stood for a moment clasping the rod at the foot of the bed with her -white nervous hand; she looked at the American fixedly, yet she seemed -to have no consciousness that she herself was seen; and presently, with -the slow movement of a somnambulist, so absorbing was her thought, she -turned to the door. - -Ashley was watching her intently; suddenly her light was extinguished, -and she vanished as if dissolved in air. He was calm enough to remember -that she had spoken to him, to know that she could be no phantom of his -imagination, and to suppose that upon stepping into the corridor she had -extinguished her light, and sped noiselessly along the wall to some -other apartment; yet for a long time a feeling of mystery oppressed him, -and he could not sleep. A vague consciousness of some strange influence -near him kept him feverish, with all his senses on the alert; yet he -heard no movement of the woman who crouched within the doorway, leaning -against the cold wall, and who during the long silent night passed in -review the strange events that had brought her—the Señora Isabel Garcia -de Garcia—to guard the slumbers of a foundling, the foster-child of a -man so low in station as the gate-keeper of her house. - - - - - XX. - - -Doña Isabel Garcia had been born within the walls of Tres Hermanos, her -father having been part owner of the estate, and her mother the daughter -of an impoverished gentleman of the neighboring city of Guanapila. Doña -Clarita had been a most beautiful woman, whose attractions had been -utilized to prop the falling fortunes of her house by her marriage with -the elderly but kindly proprietor Don Ignacio Garcia. - -At the time of her marriage, Clarita Rodriguez was very young, and with -the habits of submission universal among her countrywomen would probably -have taken kindly to her fate, never doubting its justice, but that from -her balcony she had one day seen a young officer of the city troop ride -by in all the magnificence of the military uniform of the period. A -dazzling vision of gold lace and braid, clanking spurs and sabre, and of -eyes and teeth and smile more dazzling still, haunted her for weeks. Yet -that might have passed, but that the vision glided from the eye to the -heart, when on one luckless night, at the governor’s ball, Pancho Vallé -was introduced to her, and they twice were partners in that lover’s -delirium the slow and voluptuous _danza_. As they moved together in the -dreamy measure, a few low words were exchanged,—commonplace perhaps but -not harmless, and by one at least never to be forgotten. Afterward an -occasional missive penned in most regular characters upon daintily -tinted paper came to her hands through some complaisant servant. But Don -Ranulfo Rodriguez was too jealous a guardian to suffer many such to -escape him, and had been far too wise in his generation to place it in -his daughter’s power to engage in such dangerous pastime as the -production of replies to unwelcome suitors. Like most other girls of her -age and position, Clarita had been strenuously prevented from learning -to write, and it is doubtful if she ever knew the exact import of -Vallé’s perfumed missives, although her heart doubtless guessed what her -eyes could not decipher. - -Whether Vallé’s impassioned glances meant all they indicated or not, -certain it was that he had not ventured to declare himself to the father -as a suitor for the fair Clarita’s hand, when Don Ignacio Garcia stepped -in and literally carried away the prize. The courtship had been short, -the position of the groom unassailable. Clarita shed some tears, but the -delighted father declared they were for joy at her good fortune; and -they were indeed of so mixed a character—baffled love, wounded pride, -and an irrepressible sense of triumph at her unexpected promotion—that -she herself scarce cared to analyze them. She danced with Vallé once -again on the occasion of her marriage; again a few words were spoken, -and the passionate heart of Clarita was pierced with a secret dart, -which never ceased to rankle. - -Don Ignacio Garcia conducted her immediately to the hacienda, where his -jealous nature found no cause for suspicion; and there the little Isabel -was born; and on beholding the wealth of maternal affection which the -young wife lavished upon her child, the husband forgot the indifference -that had sometimes chafed him, and for a few brief months imagined -himself beloved. This egotistic delusion was never dispelled, for at its -height, upon the second anniversary of their wedding day, when taking -part in a bull-chase, Don Ignacio’s horse swerved as he urged him to the -side of the infuriated animal; a moment’s hesitancy was fatal; the horse -was ripped open by the powerful horn of the bull, and plunging wildly, -fell back upon his luckless rider, whose neck was instantly broken. It -was an accident which it seemed incredible could have happened to a man -so skilled in horsemanship as was Don Ignacio. The spectators were for a -moment dumb with horror and surprise, then with groans and shrieks -rushed to the rescue, but only to lift a corpse. Doña Clarita with a -wild shriek had fainted as the horse plunged back, and upon regaining -her senses, threw herself in an agony of not unremorseful grief upon the -body of her husband. It was, however, of that violent character which -soon expends itself; and before the funeral obsequies were well over, -she began to look around the narrow horizon of Tres Hermanos, and -remember, if not rejoice, that she was free to go beyond it. - -Don Gregorio, the cousin of Clarita’s husband’s, though a mere boy, had -been brought up on the estate, and was competent to take charge, and the -administrador and clerks were trusty men; so there was no absolute -reason why the young widow should remain to guard her interests and -those of her child, and it seemed but natural she should return to her -father’s house, at least during the first months of her sorrow. Thither -indeed she went. She had dwelt there before, a dependent child, to be -disposed of at her father’s will; she returned to it a rich widow, -profuse of her favors but tenacious of her rights, one of which all too -soon proclaimed itself to be that of choosing for herself a second -husband. A month or two after her arrival in the city, Don Pancho Vallé -returned from some expedition in which patriotism and personal gain were -deftly combined, with the halo of success added to his personal -attractions, and was quick to declare an unswerving devotion to the -divinity at whose shrine he had worshipped but doubtfully while it -remained ungilded by the sun of prosperity. Whether Clarita had learned -to read or not, certain it is that Don Pancho’s impassioned missives met -with a response more satisfactory than pen and ink alone could give, for -immediately after the expiration of the year due to the memory of Don -Ignacio, she became the wife of the gay soldier. - -Don Pancho and his wife were both young, both equally delighted in -excitement and luxury; and within an incredibly short time the ample -resources which had seemed to them boundless were perceptibly narrowed. -To the taste for extravagant living, for gorgeous apparel, for numerous -and magnificent horses, shared by them in common, were added a -passionate love of gambling, and a scarcely less expensive one for -military enterprises of an independent and half guerilla order, on the -part of Don Pancho; and thus a few years saw the wife’s fortune reduced -to an encumbered interest in the lands of Tres Hermanos. - -Don Pancho in spite of numerous infidelities still retained his -influence over the heart and mind of Clarita; and one night in play -against Don Gregorio Garcia—who, like other caballeros, occasionally -engaged in a game or two for pastime—he staked the last acre of her -estate, knowing she would refuse him nothing, and lost. For a moment he -looked blank,—a most unwonted manifestation of dismay in so practised a -gambler,—then laughed and shook hands with his fortunate opponent. There -was a laughing group around him, condoling with him banteringly, for -Pancho Vallé had never seemed to make any misfortune a serious matter, -when a pistol-shot was heard. For a moment no one realized what had -happened; the young officer stood in his gay uniform, smiling still, his -gold-mounted pistol in his hand, then fell heavily forward. The ball had -passed through his heart. His widow had the satisfaction of seeing by -the smile that remained on his handsome countenance that he had died as -joyously as he had lived; not a trace of care showed that aught deeper -than mere pique and caprice had moved him. “Angel of my life!” she -cried, when her first burst of grief was over, “thou wert beginning to -make my heart ache, for I had nothing more to give thee!” - -This was her only word of reproach, if reproach it might be called. For -love that woman would have yielded even her life, and never have known -the hollowness of her idol. Grief did the work that ingratitude and -neglect—nay absolute cruelty—would perhaps never have effected, and in a -few short months destroyed her life. As she was dying she called her -daughter to her. “Isabel,” she said, “thou hast wealth, thy brother has -nothing; swear to me by the Virgin and thy patron saint, that thou wilt -be as a mother to him, that thou wilt refuse him nothing that thy hand -can give! Money, money, money, is what makes men happy!” That had been -the creed her life’s experience had taught her. For money her father had -sold her; for that the husband she adored had given her fair words and -caresses. “As thou wouldst have thy mother’s blessing, promise me that -Leon shall never appeal to thee in vain!” - -Isabel Garcia was but a child, and the boy Leon but three years younger; -yet as she looked upon her dying mother she solemnly promised to fill -her place, to take upon herself the rôle of sacrifice, which her -religion taught her was that of motherhood. Poor Clarita! little had she -understood a mother’s highest duties,—to warn, to guide, to plead with -God for the beloved. The mere yielding of material things,—to clothe -herself in sackcloth, that the child might be robed in purple, to walk -barefoot that he might ride in state, to hunger that he might be -delicately fed,—she had pictured these things to herself as the purest -sacrifices, and surely the only ones to appeal to the hearts of such men -as she had known; and the young Isabel entered upon her task with her -mother’s precepts deeply engraved upon her heart, her mind all -uninstructed, awaiting the iron finger of experience to write upon it -its lessons. - -After their mother’s death, the young brother and sister, mere children -both, went to live in the house of some elderly relatives, who with -generous though not always judicious kindness strove to forget the -faults of the father by ignoring them when they became apparent in the -boy. The uncle of Isabel, the Friar Francisco, became their tutor, but -taught them little beyond the breviary. What could a woman need with -more? As for Leon, he took more kindly to the lasso and saddle, to the -pistol and sword, than to the book or pen,—and even while still a child -in years, more passionately still to the gaming table. Though his elders -with a shake of the head remembered his father’s fate, and sometimes -pushed the boy half laughingly away from the monté table, or of a Sunday -afternoon sent him out to the bull-ring for his diversion, where he was -a mere spectator, rather than to the cock-pit, where he became a -participant, yet the question did not present itself as one at all of -questionable morals: every one gambled on a feast day, or at a social -game among one’s friends. Perhaps of all those by whom he was -surrounded, no one felt any serious anxiety for Leon except the young -girl who with premature solicitude warned him of the evil, even as she -supplied the means to indulge his wayward tastes. - -Leon was a brilliant rather than a handsome boy, promising to be well -grown; and his lithe, vigorous figure showed to good advantage in his -gay riding-suits, whether of sombre black cloth with silver buttons set -closely down the outer seam of the pantaloons and adorning the short -round jacket, or in loose _chapareras_ of buckskin bound by a scarlet -sash and bedizened with leather fringes,—a costume that perhaps served -to betray the Indian strain in his blood, which ordinarily was detected -only by a slight prominence of the cheek bones and a somewhat furtive -expression in the soft dark eyes. At unguarded moments, however, perhaps -when he fancied himself unobserved and was practising with his pistol or -sabre, those eyes could flash with concentrated fire, so that more than -once Isabel had been constrained to call out: “Leon, Leon, you frighten -me! You look like the great cat when he pounces upon a harmless little -bird and crushes it for the very joy of killing!” - -Then Leon would laugh, and the soft, dreamy haze would rise again over -the eyes as he would turn upon her. “Ha!” he would say, “you will never -be a man, Isabel; you will never understand why I love the sights and -sounds that throw you poor women into fainting fits and tears. Ha! -Isabel, if I were you I’d not stay in this dull house with a couple of -old women to guard me, when you might go to the hacienda and be free as -air.” - -“Nonsense,” Isabel would retort; “what could I do there other than here? -I could not turn herdsman or vaquero, nor even ride out to the fields to -see how the crops were flourishing, nor roam like an Indian through the -mountains.” - -“But _I_ would!” Leon would cry enthusiastically; and with his longing -ardor for the free life of a country gentleman, with its barbaric luxury -and wild sports, he thus first put into the young girl’s mind the -thought of favoring the suit which her cousin, Don Gregorio Garcia, -began to urge. - -Don Gregorio had married young, soon after the death of Ignacio Garcia -whom he succeeded in the management of the estate of which they had been -joint owners; but his wife had died leaving him without an heir, and the -first grief assuaged, it was but natural after the passage of years that -the widower should weary of his loneliness. There were many reasons why -his thoughts should turn to his distant cousin Isabel, for though she -was many years younger than himself, such disparity of age was not -unusual; the marriage would unite still more closely the family -fortunes, and effectually prevent the intrusion of any undesirable -stranger; and above all, Isabel was gracious and queenly and beautiful -enough to charm the heart even of an anchorite, and Don Gregorio was far -from being one. Indeed, in his very early years he had given indications -of a partiality for a far more adventurous career than he had finally, -by force of circumstances, been led to adopt. Thus he sympathized -somewhat with Leon’s restless activity, and quite honestly secured the -boy’s alliance,—no slight advantage in his siege of the heart of Isabel. - -This, perhaps more than the good-will of the rest of the family, enabled -Don Gregorio to approach so nearly to Isabel’s inmost nature that he -learned far more of the strength of purpose and capability for -passionate devotion possessed by the young untrained girl than any other -being had done, and for the first time in his life knew a love far -deeper and purer than any passion which mere physical charms could -awaken. Such a love appealed to Isabel. She was perhaps constitutionally -cold to sexual charms, but eminently susceptible to the sympathetic -attrition of an appreciative mind, while her heart could translate far -more readily the rational outpourings of friendship than the wild -rhapsodies of passion. Thus, although Isabel would have shrunk from a -man who in his ardor would have demanded of her affection some sacrifice -of the unqualified devotion that she had vowed to her brother, she -seemed to find in Don Gregorio one who could understand and applaud the -exaggerated devotion to the ideal standard of filial and sisterly duty -which she had unconsciously erected upon the few utterly irrational -words of a weak and dying woman. - -The first four years of Isabel’s married life passed uneventfully. Leon -was constantly near her, and was the life of the great house, which -despite the crowd of retainers that frequented it would without him have -proved but a dull dwelling for so young a matron, with no illusions in -regard to the staid and kindly husband, who was rather a friend to be -consulted and revered than a lover to be adored,—for although Don -Gregorio worshipped his beautiful young wife, he was at once too mindful -of his own dignity, and too wary of startling Isabel’s passionless -nature, to manifest or exact romantic and exhaustive proofs of -affection. He used sometimes to mutter to himself: “‘The stronger the -flame the sooner the wood is burnt;’ better that the substance of love -should endure than be dissipated in smoke!” - -Don Gregorio was somewhat of a philosopher; and as such, as soon as the -glamour thrown over him by Leon’s brilliant but inconsequent sallies of -wit, and his daring and dashing manner, was dimmed, and above all as -soon as his unreasoning sympathy with Isabel’s predispositions settled -into a calm and sincere desire for her certain happiness and welfare, he -began to look with some suspicion upon traits which had at first -attracted him as the natural outcome of an ardent and generous nature. - -Friar Francisco had accompanied the young brother and sister to the -hacienda, partly to minister in the church, and partly as tutor to Leon; -but in the latter capacity he found little exercise for his talents. -Upon one pretext or another the boy at first evaded and later absolutely -refused study; but he joined so heartily in the labors as well as -pleasures of hacienda life,—he was so ready in resource, so untiring in -action, so companionable alike to all classes, that Nature seemed to -have fitted him absolutely for the position that he was apparently -destined to fill in life. Yet though he was the prince of rancheros, the -life of the city sometimes seemed to possess an irresistible attraction -for him; and after months perhaps spent among the employees of the -hacienda, in riding with the vaqueros or in penetrating the recesses of -the mountain, even sleeping in the huts of charcoal burners, or in caves -with rovers of still more doubtful reputation, he would suddenly weary -of it all, and followed by a servant or two ride gayly down to the city -to see how the world went there. - -At first Don Gregorio had no idea how much those visits cost Isabel; but -as time went on, and rumors reached them of the boy’s extravagant mode -of life, Isabel became anxious and Don Gregorio indignant. Some -investigation showed that a troop of young roysterers who called him -captain were maintained in the mountains, and that a thousand wild -freaks which had mystified the neighboring villages and haciendas might -be traced to these mad spirits, among whom Don Gregorio shrewdly -conjectured might be found many of the most daring young fellows, both -of the higher and lower orders, who had one by one mysteriously -disappeared during the few months preceding Leon’s eighteenth birthday. - -Leon only laughed when taxed with his guerilla following, and although -as he managed it it was a somewhat costly amusement, it was not an -unusual or an altogether useless one in those days of anarchy; for no -one could say how soon the fortunes of war might turn an enemy upon the -land and stores of Tres Hermanos, and even Don Gregorio was not -displeased to find the most refractory of his retainers placed in a -position to defend rather than imperil the interests of the estate. As -to the escapades of city life he found them less pardonable, for they -consisted chiefly in mad devotion to the gaming-table, which Leon was -never content to leave until his varying fortunes turned to disaster and -his wild excitement was quelled by the tardy reflection that his -sister’s generosity would be taxed in thousands to pay the folly of a -night. - -Before the age of twenty Leon Vallé had run the gamut of the vices and -extravagances peculiar to Mexican youths, and large as the resources of -Doña Isabel were, he had begun to encroach seriously upon them; for true -to her mother’s request, she had never refused to supply his demands for -money, though of late she had begun to make remonstrances, which were -received half incredulously, half sullenly, as though he realized -neither their justice nor their necessity. Isabel was now a mother, her -daughter Herlinda having been born a year after her marriage, and their -son Norberto, the pride and hope of Don Gregorio, three years later; and -naturally the young mother longed to consider the interests of her -children, which so far as her own property was concerned seemed utterly -obliterated and overwhelmed by the mad extravagances of her brother. - -Strangely enough, Don Gregorio attempted no interference with his wife’s -disposal of her income, though it seemed not improbable that at no -distant day even the lands would be in jeopardy. Perhaps he foresaw that -as her means to gratify his insatiable demands declined, so gradually -Leon’s strange fascination over his sister would cease; for inevitably -his restless spirit would draw him afar to find fresh fields for -adventure, since in those days, when the great struggle between Church -and State was beginning and foreign complications were forming, such a -leader as he might prove to be would find no lack of occasion for daring -deeds and reckless followers, nor scarcity of plunder with which to -repay the latter. - -Whatever were his thoughts, Don Gregorio guarded them well, saying -sometimes either to Leon himself, or to some friend who expressed a half -horrified conjecture as to where such absolute madness must end, “See -you not, ’t is foolish to squeeze the orange until one tastes the -bitterness of the rind?” He expected some sudden and violent reaction in -Isabel’s mind and conduct. But though she began to show she realized and -suffered, she bore the strain put upon her with royal fortitude. Youth -can hope through such adverse circumstances, and it always seemed to her -that one who “meant so well” as Leon, must eventually turn from -temptation and begin a new and nobler career. - -At last what appeared to Isabel the turning point in her brother’s -destiny was reached. He became violently enamored of the beautiful -daughter of a Spaniard, one Señor Fernandez, who of a family too -distinguished to be flattered by an alliance with a mere attaché of a -wealthy and powerful house, was so poor as to be willing to consider it -should a suitable provision be made to insure his daughter’s future -prosperity. The beautiful Dolores was herself favorably inclined toward -the gay cavalier, who most ardently pressed his suit,—the more ardently -perhaps that he was piqued and indignant that the wary father utterly -refused to consider the matter until Don Gregorio or Doña Isabel herself -should formally ask the hand of his daughter, presenting at the same -time unmistakable assurances of Leon’s ability to fulfil the promises he -recklessly poured forth. - -That Leon had turned from his old evil courses seemed as months passed -on an absolute certainty. Not even the administrador himself could be -more utterly bound to the wheel of routine than he. To see his changed -life, his absolute repugnance even to the sports suitable to his age, -was almost piteous; his whole heart and mind seemed set upon atonement -for the folly of the past, and in preparation for a life of toil and -anxiety in the future. For in examining into her affairs, Doña Isabel -found that her income was largely overdrawn; Leon’s extravagances, -together with heavy losses incurred in the working of the -reduction-works, had so far crippled her resources that it was only by -stringent effort, and an appeal to Don Gregorio for aid, that she was -enabled so to rehabilitate the fortunes of Leon that he could hope to -win the prize which was to make or mar his future. - -Doña Isabel was as happy as the impatient lover himself when she could -place in his hands the deeds of a small but productive estate, famous -for the growth of the maguey, from which the sale of pulque and mescal -promised a never failing revenue. The money had been raised largely -through concessions made by Don Gregorio, and was to be repaid from the -income of Isabel’s encumbered estate, so that for some years at least it -would be out of her power to render Leon any further assistance. Don -Gregorio shook his head gravely over the whole matter; yet the fact that -the young man was virtually thrown upon the resources provided for him, -which certainly without the concentration of all his energies and tact -would be altogether insufficient for his maintenance, and also that he -had great faith in the energy of character which for the first time -appeared diverted into a legitimate channel, inclined him to believe -that at last, urged by necessity as well as love, Leon would redeem his -past and settle down into the reputable citizen and relative who was to -justify and repay the sister’s tireless and extraordinary devotion. “Or -at least,” he said to himself, “Isabel will be satisfied that no more -can or should be done; and it is worth a fortune to convince her of -that.” - -Strangely enough, though Isabel had addressed herself with a frenzy of -determination to the task of securing a competency for Leon that might -enable him to marry and enter upon a life which was to relieve her of -the constant drain upon her resources, both material and mental, which -for years had been sapping her prosperity and peace, yet as she beheld -him ride away toward the town in which his inamorata dwelt to make the -final arrangements for his marriage, her heart sank within her; and -instead of relief and thankfulness, she felt a frightful pang of -apprehension, she knew not why, as if a prophetic voice warned her that -her own hand had opened the door to a chamber of horrors, through which -the smiling youth would pass and drag her as he went. - -Isabel threw herself upon her husband’s breast in an agony which he -could not comprehend, but which he gently soothed, happy to feel that to -him she turned in the first moment of her abandonment,—for indeed she -felt that she who had given her substance, her sympathy, her faith, all -of which a sister’s life is capable, was indeed abandoned, and all for a -fresh young face, a word, a smile. Leon was a changed man, but all her -devotion had not worked the miracle; another whose love could be as yet -but a fancy had accomplished what years of sacrifice from her had -striven for in vain! - -There was something of jealousy, but far more of the pain of baffled -aspiration in the thought, and through it all that dreadful doubt, that -sickening dread as to whether she had done well thus to strip herself of -the power to minister to him. It seemed, even against her reason, -impossible that Leon could be beyond the pale of her bounty; she had -been so accustomed to plan, to think, to plot for him, that she could -not grasp the thought that henceforth he was to live without her, that -she was to know him happy, joyous, at ease, and she no longer be the -immediate and ministering Providence which made him so. - -After the infant Carmen was born, the mother’s thoughts turned into -other channels. As she looked at this child, the thought for the first -time came to her, that some day it might be possible that her children -would inherit some material good from her. Their father was a rich man, -yet there was a pleasure in the thought that her children, her daughters -most especially, would be pleased by a mother’s rich gifts, would -perhaps from her receive the dower that would make them welcome in the -homes of the men they might love. Isabel began to indulge in the -maternal hopes and visions of young motherhood, and to feel the security -that a still hopeful mind may acquire, after years of secret and -harassing cares have passed. - -The usual visits of ceremony had passed between the contracting -families; the Señor Fernandez had declared himself satisfied with the -generous provisions which had been made for the young couple; the house -was set in order, and an early day named for the wedding. Some days of -purest happiness followed the tearful anxiety with which Dolores had -awaited the negotiations that were to shape her destiny. An earnest of -the future came to her in the present of jewels, with which Leon -presaged the marriage gifts which he went to the city of Mexico to -choose,—for whether rich or poor, no Mexican bridegroom would fail of a -necklet of pearls, or a brooch and earrings of brilliants for his bride; -and with his luxurious tastes, it was not to be supposed that Leon Vallé -could fail to add to these laces and silks and velvets, fit rather for a -princess than for the future wife of a country youth whose only capital -was in house and land. Isabel had just heard of these things, and had -begun to excuse in her heart these extravagances, which seemed so -natural to a youth in love, when a remembrance flashed upon her mind -which justified the apprehensions she had felt, and which it seemed -incredible should have escaped not only her own but also Don Gregorio’s -vigilance,—Leon had gone to Mexico in the days of the feast of San -Augustin. - -Isabel was too jealous of her brother’s good name, too eager to shield -him from a breath of distrust, to mention the fears that assailed her. -She called herself irrational, faithless, unjust, yet she could not rid -herself of the dread which seemed to brood above her like a cloud. And -so passed the month of June, and July brought Leon Vallé back again, and -one glance at his haggard face and bloodshot eyes revealed to Isabel -that her fears were realized. He told the tale in a few words and with a -hollow laugh. - -“You will have to go to Garcia for me now, Isabel,” he said. “Your last -venture has brought me the old luck, cursed bad luck. A plague upon your -money! I thought to double or treble it, and the last cent is gone!” - -“And the hacienda of San Lazaro?” queried Isabel, faintly. - -“Would you believe it? Gone too! Aranda has had the devil’s own luck. ’T -was the last of the feast, Isabel. Thousands were changing hands at -every table. It seemed a cowardice not to try a stake for a fortune that -might be had for the asking. I was a fool, and hesitated till it was too -late. Had I only ventured at once! What think you happened to Leoncio -Alvarez? He played his hacienda against Esparto’s, and lost. He had -dared me not five minutes before to the venture. The devil, what a -chance I missed! His hacienda was three times the size of San Lazaro! He -bore its loss like a man. ‘What can one do, friend?’ he cried to -Esparto; ‘it has been thy luck to-day, ’t will be mine when we next -meet.’ Just then his brother Antonio came up. ‘What luck, Leoncio?’ he -said. ‘Cursed!’ he answered. ‘I have played my hacienda against -Esparto’s here, and lost it.’ Antonio shrugged his shoulders and turned -away. ‘Play mine and get it back,’ he suggested, and walked off to the -next table. The cards were dealt, and in three minutes Leoncio’s -hacienda was his own again, thrown like a ball from one hand to the -other. It was glorious play!” - -“But this has nothing to do with thee,” ventured Isabel. - -“No,” muttered Leon, moodily; “when _I_ ventured my hacienda and lost, -there was no Antonio to bid me play his and get it back.” - -He looked at Isabel with an air of reproach. She had neither look nor -word of reproach for him, yet she felt that a mortal blow had been dealt -her. And Leon? He had laughed, though she knew that the laugh was that -of the mocking fiend Despair which possessed him; and he had bade her go -on his behalf to Garcia. She left him in desperation. She knew how -utterly fruitless such an appeal would be. - -It was fruitless. Don Gregorio asked with some scorn in his voice -whether Leon thought him as weak as she had been, or as much of a madman -as himself when he had dared the chances of the tables at San Augustin. -For him, Garcia, to furnish money to the oft-tried scapegrace would be a -folly that would merit the inevitable loss it would bring. All of which, -though true enough, Don Gregorio repeated with unnecessary vehemence to -Leon himself, with the tone of irrepressible satisfaction with which he -at last saw humiliated the man who had for so long held such a -resistless fascination over his wife. - -With wonderful self-restraint Leon replied not a word to the cutting -irony with which his brother-in-law referred to the mad ambition and -folly which had led to his losses, and with which Gregorio excused -himself from further assisting in the ruin of the Garcia -family,—reminding the gamester that though he had thrown away the key to -fortune which he had taken from his sister’s hand, he had still youth, a -sword, and a subtle mind, any one of which should be able to provide him -a living. - -“That is true,” replied Leon, with a dangerous light in his half-closed -eyes. “Thanks for the reminder, my brother. What is the old saying? ‘A -hungry man discovers more than a thousand wise men.’” - -They both laughed. It was not likely that Leon’s poverty would ever -reach the point of actual want. There at the hacienda was his home when -he cared for it; but as for money,—why as Don Gregorio had said, the key -to fortune was thrown away, and it seemed unlikely the unfortunate loser -would ever recover it. - -Almost on the same day on which Leon Vallé had told his sister of his -fatal hardihood at the feast of San Augustin, there arrived, with -assurances of the profound respect of Señor Fernandez and his daughter, -the jewels and other rich gifts which Dolores had accepted as the -betrothed of Leon. With deep indignation that his explanations and -protestations had been rejected, but with a pride which prevented the -frantic remonstrances which rushed to his lips from passing beyond them, -Leon received these proofs of his dismissal, which in a few days was -rendered final by the news that the beautiful Dolores had married a -wealthier and perhaps even more ardent suitor, whom the insolence and -mockery of Fate had provided in the person of the lucky winner of San -Lazaro. Even Don Gregorio felt his heart burn with the natural chagrin -of family pride, and Isabel would have turned with some sympathy toward -the brother of whom, unconsciously to herself, she could no longer make -a hero. Strangely enough, his aspect as a suppliant for her husband’s -bounty had disrobed him of the glamour through which she had always -beheld him. When she herself was powerless to minister to him, he was no -longer a prince claiming tribute, but the undignified dependent whom she -blushed to see lounging in sullen idleness in her husband’s house. Yet -as has been said, when word of the marriage of Dolores Fernandez reached -them, they would have given him sympathy; but he had received the news -first, and collecting a half-dozen followers had mounted and ridden -madly away. - -The horses they rode were Don Gregorio’s yet Leon had gone without a -word of excuse or farewell. Isabel had no opportunity to tell him that -she had no more money to give him; and in her distress at supposing him -penniless it was an immense relief to her to find that he had retained -in his possession the jewels that the father of Dolores had returned to -him. He would at least not be without resource. But soon a strange tale -reached her. The jewels torn from their settings, the stones in -fragments, the whole crushed into an utterly worthless mass, so far as -human strength and ingenuity could accomplish it, had been found upon -the pillow of the bride. The husband was jealously frantic that her -sanctuary had been invaded; the bride was hysterically alarmed, yet -flattered at this proof of her lover’s passion; and the entire community -were for days on the _qui vive_ for further developments in this drama -of love. - -But none came, and soon Leon Vallé’s name was heard of as one of the -guerillas of the Texan war, where he fought for—it was not to be said -under—Santa Anna; and ere many months his name rang from one end of the -republic to the other,—the synonym of gallant daring, which in a less -exciting time might have been called ferocious bloodthirstiness. - -Isabel quailed as she heard the wild tales told of him; but Don Gregorio -shrugged his shoulders and said, “Thank Heaven he turned soldier rather -than brigand!” The chief difference between the two in those days was in -name; but that meant much in sentiment. - - - - - XXI. - - -Leon Vallé had not parted from his sister in declared hostility, yet -months passed before she heard directly from him. But this was not to be -wondered at, as letters were necessarily sent by private carriers, and -it was not to be expected that in the adventurous excitement of his life -he should pause to send a mere salutation over leagues of desolate -country. - -Meanwhile the prevailing anarchy of the time crept closer and closer to -the hacienda limits. Bandits gathered in the mountains and ravaged the -outlying villages, driving off flocks of sheep or herds of cattle, -lassoing the finest horses, and mocking the futile efforts of the -country people to guard their property. The name of one Juan Planillos -became a terror in every household; yet one by one the younger men stole -away to strengthen the number of his followers and share the wild -excitement of the bandit life, rather than to wait patiently at home to -be drafted into the ranks of some political chieftain whose career -raised little enthusiasm, and whose political creed was as obscure as -his origin. “The memory is confused,” says an historian, “by the plans -and _pronunciamientos_ of that time. Men changed ideas at each step, and -defended to-day what they had attacked yesterday. Parties triumphed and -fell at every turn.” The form of government was as changeable as a -kaleidoscope, and only the brigand and guerilla seemed immutable. -Whatever the politics of the day, their motto was plunder and rapine; -and their deeds, so brilliant, so unforeseeable, offered an irresistible -attraction to the restless spirits of that revolutionary epoch. - -Though Doña Isabel Garcia, like all others, was imbued with the military -ardor of the time, the brilliant reputation that her brother was winning -in distant fields, though in harmony with her own political opinions, -horrified rather than dazzled her. She shuddered as she heard his name -mentioned in the same breath with that of the remorseless Valdez, or the -crafty and bloody Planillos; yet she was glad to believe his incentive -was patriotism rather than plunder, and when at last a messenger from -him reached her with the same old cry for “Money! money! money!” she -responded with a heaping handful of gold,—all she had been able to -accumulate in the few months of his absence. Don Gregorio however, vexed -by recent losses and harassed by constant raids from the mountain -brigands, sent a refusal that was worded almost like a curse; and -ashamed of her brother, annoyed by and yet sympathizing with her -husband, Doña Isabel felt her heart sink like lead in her bosom, and for -the first time her superb health showed signs of yielding to the severe -mental strain to which she had been so long subjected. - -June had come again; the rainy season would soon begin, and Don -Gregorio, suddenly thinking that the change would benefit his wife, -suggested that they should pass some months in the city. The roads were -threatened by highwaymen, yet Isabel was glad to go, and even to incur -the novelty of danger. Her travelling carriage was luxurious, and with -her little girls immediately under her own eye, with an occasional -glimpse of the four-year-old Norberto riding proudly at his father’s -side in the midst of the numerous escort of picked men, she felt an -exhilaration both of body and mind to which she had long been a -stranger. - -The travelling was necessarily slow, for the roads were excessively -rough, and the party had at sunset of the first day scarcely left the -limits of the hacienda and entered the defile which led to the deeper -cañons of the mountains, wherein upon the morrow they anticipated the -necessity of exercising a double vigilance. Not a creature had been seen -for hours; the mountains with their straggling clumps of cacti and -blackened, stunted palms seemed absolutely bereft of animal life, except -when occasionally a lizard glided swiftly over a rock, or a snake -rustled through the dry and crackling herbage. Caution seemed absurd in -such a place where there was scarce a cleft for concealment, yet the -party drew nearer together, and the men looked to their arms as the -cliffs became closer on either side and so precipitous that it seemed as -though a goat could scarcely have scaled them. - -They had passed nearly the entire length of this cañon, and the nervous -tension that had held the whole party silent and upon the alert was -gradually yielding to the glimpse of more open country which lay beyond, -and on which they had planned to camp for the night, when suddenly the -whole country seemed alive with men. They blocked the way, backward and -forward; they hung from the cliffs; they bounded from rock to rock, on -foot and on horse, the horses as agile as the men. Amid the tumult one -man seemed ubiquitous. All eyes followed him, yet not one caught sight -of his face; the striped jorongo thrown over shoulders and face formed -an impenetrable disguise, such as the noted guerilla chief of the -mountains was wont to wear. Suddenly there was a cry of “Planillos! -Planillos!” amid the confusion of angry voices, of curses, and the -clanking of sabres and echo of pistol-shots. Don Gregorio found himself -driven against the rocks, a sword-point at his throat, a pistol pressed -to his temple, his own smoking weapon in his hand. - -Immediately the shouts ceased, and before the smoke which had filled the -gorge had cleared, the travellers found themselves alone, with two or -three dead men obstructing the road. Don Gregorio had barely time to -notice them, or the blank faces of his men staring bewildered at one -another, when a cry from Doña Isabel recalled him to his senses, and he -saw her rushing wildly from group to group. In an instant he was at her -side. “Norberto! where is Norberto?” both demanded wildly, and some of -the men who had caught the name began to force their horses up the -almost inaccessible cliffs, and to gallop up or down the cañon in a -confused pursuit of the vanished enemy. - -Don Gregorio alone retained his presence of mind; though night was -closing in and the horses were wearied by a day’s travel, not a moment -was lost in dispatching couriers to the city for armed police and to the -hacienda for fresh men and horses, and the return to Tres Hermanos was -immediately begun. Sometime during the morning hours they were met by a -party from the hacienda, and putting himself at the head of his -retainers Don Gregorio led them in search of his son, while Doña Isabel -in a state bordering upon distraction proceeded to her desolated home. - -Her first act was to send a courier to her brother. No one knew the -mountains as he did, and in her terrible plight she was certain he would -not fail her. But her haste was needless, for information reached him -from some other source, and within a few days he was at the head of a -party of valiant Garcias, who had hastened from far and near to the -rescue of their young kinsman. - -In all the country round the abduction of Norberto Garcia was called -“the abduction by enchanters,”—so sudden had been the attack, so -complete the disappearance of the victim. Beyond the immediate scene no -trace remained of the act,—it seemed that the very earth must have -opened to swallow the perpetrators; and yet day by day proofs of their -existence were found in letters left upon the very saddle crossed by the -father, or upon the pillow wet with the tears of the mother, demanding -ransom which each day became more exorbitant, accompanied by threats -more and more ingenious and horrible. - -Such seizures, though rare, were by no means unprecedented, and such -threats had been proved to be only too likely to be fulfilled. As days -went by the agony of the parents became unbearable, and Don Gregorio’s -early resolution to spend a fortune in the pursuit and punishment of the -robbers rather than comply with their demands, and thus lend -encouragement to similar outrages, began to yield before the imminent -danger to the life of his son; and to Doña Isabel it seemed a cruel -mockery that her brother and the young Garcias should urge him to -further exertion and postponement of the inevitable moment when he must -accede to the imperious demands of the outlaws. - -The family were one evening discussing again the momentous and -constantly agitated question, when Doña Feliz appeared among them with -starting eyes and pallid cheeks, bidding Don Gregorio go to his wife, -from whose nerveless hand she had wrested a paper, which Leon seized and -opened as the excited woman held it toward him. Don Gregorio turned back -at his brother-in-law’s exclamation, and beheld upon his outstretched -hand a lock of soft brown hair, evidently that of a child. It had been -severed from the head by a bloody knife. It was a mute threat, yet they -understood it but too well. Every man there sprang to his feet with a -groan or an oath. Such a threat they remembered had been sent to the -parents the very day before the infant Ranulfo Ortega had been found -dead not a hundred yards from his father’s door. Did this mean also that -the last demand for ransom had been made, and the patience of Norberto’s -abductors was exhausted? - -Don Gregorio clasped his hands over his eyes, and reeled against the -wall. Leon sprang to his feet, pale to his lips, his eyes blazing. -Julian Garcia picked up the hair which had fallen from Leon’s hand; the -others stood grouped in horrified expectancy. Doña Feliz stood for a -moment looking at them with lofty courage and determination upon her -face. - -“What,” she cried, “is this a time for hesitation? The money must be -paid, the child’s life saved. Vengeance can wait!” She spoke with a fire -that thrilled them, and though they spoke but of the ransom, it was the -word “vengeance” that rang in their ears, and steeled Don Gregorio to -the terrible task that awaited him. - -That night the quaint hiding-places of the vast hacienda were ransacked, -and many a hoard of coin was extracted from the deep corners of the -walls, and the depths of half-ruinous wells. Doña Isabel saw treasures -of whose existence she had never heard before, but had perhaps vaguely -suspected; for through the long years of anarchy the Garcias had become -expert in secreting such surplus wealth as they desired to keep within -reach. Large as was the sum brought to light, it barely sufficed to meet -the demands of the robbers; yet it was a question how such a weight of -coin was to be conveyed by one person to the spot indicated for the -payment of the ransom and delivery of the child,—for it had been -urgently insisted upon that but one man should go into the very -stronghold of the bandits. - -At daybreak, having refused the offer of Leon Vallé to go in his stead, -Don Gregorio mounted his horse and set out on his mission. He knew well -the place appointed, for he had been in his youth an adventurous -mountaineer, and more than once had penetrated the deep gorge into -which, late in the afternoon, he descended, bearing with him the gold -and silver. As he entered the “Zahuan del Infierno” he shuddered. Not -ten days before he had passed through it, followed by a dozen trusty -followers, in search of his child, and had discovered no trace of him; -now he was alone, weighted with treasure, sufficient sensibly to retard -his movements and render him a rich prize for the outlaws he had gone to -meet. Once he fancied he heard a step behind him; doubtless he was -shadowed by those who would take his life without a moment’s hesitation. -Yet he pressed on, obliged to leave his horse and proceed on foot, for -at times the cliffs were so close together that a man could barely force -his way between them. - -Just as the last rays of daylight pierced the gloomy abyss, at a sudden -turn in the narrowest part of the gorge Don Gregorio saw standing two -armed men, placed in such a position that the head of one overtopped -that of the other, while the features of both were shadowed though made -the more forbidding by heavy black beards, which it occurred to him -later were probably false and worn for the purpose of disguise. At the -feet of the foremost was placed a child; and though he restrained the -cry that rose to his lips, the tortured father recognized in him his -son,—but so emaciated, so deathly pale, with such wild, startled eyes, -gazing like a hunted creature before him, yet seeing nothing, that he -could scarcely credit it was the same beautiful, sensitive, -highly-strung Norberto who had been wrested from him but a short month -before. - -At the sight the father felt an almost irresistible impulse to -precipitate himself upon those fiends who thus dared to mock him; but -even had his hands been free to grasp the pistol in his belt, to have -done so would have been to bring upon himself certain death. As it was -he could but look with blind rage from the bags of coin he carried to -the brigands who stood like statues, the right hand of the foremost laid -upon the throat of the trembling boy. Even in that desperate moment Don -Gregorio noticed that the hand was whiter and more slender than the -hands of common men are wont to be; the nails were well formed and well -kept, though there was a bruise or mark on the second one, as though it -had met some recent injury. He was not conscious at the time that he -noticed this, but it came to him afterward. The foremost man did not -speak; it was the other who in a soft voice, as evenly modulated as -though to words of purest courtesy, bade the Señor Garcia welcome, and -thanked him for his prompt appearance. - -“Let us dispense with compliments,” said Don Gregorio, huskily. “Here is -the money you have demanded for my child. I know something of the honor -of bandits, and as you can gain nothing by falsifying your word, I have -chosen to trust in it. Here am I, alone with the gold,” and he poured it -out on the rock at the child’s feet,—“count it if you will;” and he put -out his hand and laid it upon the child’s shoulder. As he did so his -hand touched the brigand’s, and both started, glaring like two tigers -before they spring; but at that moment Norberto bounded over the -scattered heap of coin and into his father’s arms. - -As he felt that slight form within his grasp the father reeled, and his -sight failed him; a voice presently recalled him to his senses, and -glancing up he saw the two men still standing motionless, with their -pistols levelled upon him and the child. - -“The Señor will find it best to withdraw backward,” said the bandit; -“there is not space here for me to have the honor of passing and leading -the way, and it is even too narrow for your grace to turn. You will find -your horse at the entrance to the gorge; it has been well cared for. -Adios, Señor, and may every felicity attend this fortunate termination -of our negotiations.” - -“I doubt not there will,” cried Don Gregorio, though in a voice of -perfect politeness, “for I swear to you I will unearth the villains who -have tortured and robbed me, and give myself a moment of exquisite joy -with every drop of life-blood I slowly wring from them. You have my -gold, and I have my child, and now—Vengeance!” - -Gregorio Garcia knew so well the peculiar ideas of honor among bandits -as well as the spirit of his countrymen that perhaps he was assured that -no immediate risk would follow this proclamation. The word “vengeance” -rang from cliff to cliff, yet the bandits only smiled mockingly and -bowed, waving a hand in token of farewell, as with what haste he might -he withdrew. A turn in the gorge soon hid them from his sight, and -staggering through the darkness, he hastened on with his precious -burden, feeling that Norberto had fainted in his aims. - -It was near midnight when Don Gregorio reached the hacienda, and -needless is it to attempt to describe the joy of the mother at sight of -her child, though Norberto, after one faint cry of recognition, laid his -head upon her breast with a long shuddering sigh, which warned her that -his strength and courage had been so overtaxed that they were, perhaps, -destroyed forever. - -As days passed, it seemed evident that the mind of the boy was suffering -from the shock. The male relatives who during the absence of Don -Gregorio had mostly dispersed to find, manlike, some distraction -a-field, returned one by one to embrace him; but he turned from each -with unreasoning fear and aversion, unable to distinguish between them -and the strangers in whose hands he had been held a prisoner. At some of -them he gazed as if fascinated, especially at his Uncle Leon; and when -by any chance the latter touched him he would burst into agonizing -wails, which ceased only when his father held him closely in his arms, -whispering words of affection and encouragement. - -Before many days it became evident that Norberto was dying. There was a -constant, low, shuddering cry upon his lips, “He will kill me!—he will -kill me if I tell!” and the horrified father and mother became convinced -that Norberto knew at least one of his captors, and that deadly fear -alone prevented him from uttering the name. They entreated him in vain; -and one night the end of the tortured life drew near, and Norberto’s -wailing cry was still. - -The family was alone, except for the presence of Leon Vallé and a young -cousin, Doctor Genaro Calderon, one of the numerous family connections; -and those, with the Padre Francisco and Doña Feliz, were gathered around -the bed of the dying child. The father in an agony of grief and vengeful -despair stood at the head, and Doña Isabel, ghostlike and haggard from -her long suspense and watching, was on her knees at the side, her eyes -fixed upon the face of the child, when suddenly he opened his eyes in a -wild stare upon Leon Vallé, who stood near the foot of the bed, and -faintly, slowly articulated the same agonizing cry, “He will kill me if -I tell!” - -At that moment, as if by an irresistible impulse, Leon stretched out his -hand and placed a finger on the lips of the dying boy. The eyes of Don -Gregorio followed it; and then like a thunderbolt hurled through space -he threw himself upon his brother-in-law, grappling his throat with a -deathlike grasp. He had recognized the bruise upon the second finger of -the white hand,—he had recognized the very hand. Recalled to life by the -excitement of the moment, Norberto started up and exclaimed in a loud -shrill voice, “Take him away! He cut my hair with his bloody knife! Oh, -Uncle Leon, will you kill me?” and fell back in the death agony,—the -agony that only the priest witnessed, for even Isabel turned to the -mortal combat waged between her husband and her brother. - -Don Gregorio was unarmed, but Leon had managed to draw a knife from his -belt. The murderous dagger was poised for a blow, when a woman rushed -between the combatants; Don Gregorio was flung bleeding upon the bed, -Doña Feliz hurled into a corner of the apartment the dagger which she -had grasped with her naked hand, and Leon Vallé rushed like a madman -from the room. Before he could escape, however, he was seized, pinioned, -and thrust like a wild beast into one of the solid stone rooms of the -building. Don Gregorio was held by main force from accomplishing his -purpose of taking the life of the unnatural bandit ere the bolts were -shot upon him. He however gave immediate orders that messengers be -despatched in quest of police; but by some misapprehension or -intentional delay on the part of the administrador these messengers were -detained till dawn, and just as they were about to set forth, a cry went -through the house that the prisoner had escaped. - -Gregorio Garcia rushed to the room, glanced in with wild, bloodshot -eyes, and then with unrestrainable fury, sought out his wife, and -grasping her arm cried in a voice as full of horror as of rage, -“Traitress! You have set free the murderer of your child!” - -She threw herself on her knees at his feet,—he never knew with what -purpose, whether to confess her weakness or declare her innocence,—for -Doña Feliz cast herself between them. - -“It was I who set him free!” she exclaimed. “I love the Garcias too well -to suffer them to be made a mockery of by the false mercy of such laws -as ours. Think you the idol of the bandits would be sacrificed for such -a trifle as a child’s life? And you, Gregorio Garcia, would you, this -fury passed, avenge your injuries in the blood of your wife’s brother, -robber and murderer though he be? Leon has sworn to me to hide himself -forever from the family he has disgraced, under another name in another -land. He has the brand of Cain upon his brow,—God will surely bring his -doom upon him!” - -Doña Feliz spoke like a prophetess. The superb assurance upon which she -had acted, setting aside all rights of man and relegating vengeance to -the Lord, did more to reconcile Don Gregorio to the escape of his enemy -than all further reflection, decisive though it was in convincing him -that in the disordered and anarchical state of the country, the laws -would have shielded rather than punished an offender so popular as was -Leon Vallé. There was perhaps, too, a comfort in the hidden hope of -personal vengeance with which he waited long months to learn the retreat -of the man who had done him such foul wrong. - -Meanwhile the exact facts of the case were never known abroad; and when -at last it was rumored that Leon Vallé had been shot by a rival guerilla -chief and hung to a tree placarded as a traitor and robber, there were -few to doubt the story, or to make more than a passing comment on the -hard necessities of war. There seemed so much poetic justice in it, that -Gregorio Garcia, who was near the end of the disease contracted through -exposure and mental agony, did not for a moment doubt it, and died -almost content. Indeed, the circumstances were so minutely detailed by a -servant who had followed Leon in his adventurous career and who dared to -face the family in order to prove the death, that even Doña Isabel -herself did not question it until long months afterward, when a petty -scandal stole through the land. The lady of San Lazaro had -disappeared,—whether of her own free will, whether in madness she had -strayed, or whether she had been kidnapped, none could conjecture. No -demand for ransom came, no tidings were ever heard of the peerlessly -beautiful Dolores. - -It was after that time that Doña Isabel began to demand tidings of all -who came to her door, and a suspicion entered her mind which became a -certainty upon the night our story opened, but which no subsequent event -had tended to confirm during the years that had passed since then. - -This brief relation may serve to explain the strange emotions and -experiences that made Doña Isabel what her full womanhood found her, and -which with other events of her later life rendered possible and natural -the bitter suspense and fear that held her the long night through, a -watcher at the door of one who, as others had done, might find a means -to pierce her heart and wound her pride, if not to awaken her deep and -passionate affections. - - - - - XXII. - - -Chinita woke with a confused sensation of haste, and in the dim light -discovered with a momentary surprise that she was in one of the chambers -of the great house. Her first clear remembrance was that there was to be -a wedding in the village that day, and that she must hasten to help -array the bride, her old playmate Juana,—a girl scarce older than -herself, but who as the daughter of the silver-smith held some -pretentions to superior gentility among the village folk. She wondered -that she was not in the hut with Florencia and the children, and raised -herself upon one arm to peer through the gloom at the figure upon the -bed; then suddenly sprang to her feet with an exclamation. The sight of -the wounded man brought to memory the train of events connected with his -appearance there. The young man was asleep, but even if he had been -awake and in dire need of aid, Chinita would not have paused an instant; -for it flashed into her mind that she must see and speak to Tio Reyes -before he left. He had told her so little—nothing that she could -separate as a tangible fact. She must know more. Surely it was early -still,—she never slept after daybreak; he would not yet be gone. Yet in -quick apprehension, which burst forth in an irate interjection at her -tardy awakening, she ran out into the court. - -The morning light was beaming there unmistakably, though no ray of -sunlight penetrated it; and not a creature was stirring, and still -hopeful the young girl hurried to the outer court. The mingled sounds of -the movements of men and horses greeted her ear. Although she was late, -Tio Reyes perhaps was still there. Vain hope! One glance around the -great court showed her that he whom she sought was gone. - -With an angry little cry, which made more than one muleteer turn to look -at her with, “What has happened to thee?” on his lips, Chinita sped -across the court, and caught the arm of Pedro, who was standing -dejectedly outside the great gate. He crossed himself as she appeared, -and his face lighted up, then clouded again as she cried, “Where are the -soldiers? When did they go? Why did no one awaken me?” - -The man pointed with a disdainful gesture across the plain. Florencia -was standing at the door of her hut, calling in a rage to a neighbor -that those worthless vagabonds had robbed her of her last handful of -toasted corn; and Pedro began to explain to Chinita in his slow way that -the good friends of the night before had naturally enough demanded -something from the housewives upon which to breakfast, and that instead -of giving it to them quietly, and thanking the Virgin that after -drinking the soup they had not taken the pot, the foolish women must -needs scold and bewail, as though soldiers should be saints and live on -air, and as if this was the first raid that ever had been heard of, -instead of a mere frolic, very different from that of the month before, -when the forces of the clergy had carried off a thousand bushels of -maize, without as much as a “God repay you.” - -Chinita gazed eagerly toward the east, and presently burst into -passionate tears. The sun, which a moment before had shown a tiny red -disk above the hills, flooded the plain with light, and dazzled her -vision. Through it she saw some rapidly moving figures. The man she -sought was already miles away. Silently but bitterly she reproached -herself. She had slept like an insensate lump, and suffered to escape -her the man who could have told her so much, whom she would have forced -to speak. She could, as her eyes became accustomed to the light, -distinguish his very figure in the clear atmosphere; and yet he and all -she would have learned were so far away. - -“What wouldst thou?” demanded Pedro, gruffly; “the soldiers have carried -off nothing of thine! Heaven forefend! Go to the hut and drink the atolé -if there is any left, and give God the thanks!” - -The broad daylight had cleared the mind of Pedro of all the sentimental -fears of the night. The glamour had passed away; there stood Chinita -with the old familiar ragged clothing upon her, to be talked with, -caressed it might be, certainly scolded with the mock severity of old. -Yes, it was the same fiery, uncertain, irascible Chinita, who, clearing -her eyes of their unusual tears with a backward sweep of her small brown -hand, ran down the hill,—not to the hut where Florencia stood with the -water-jar, beckoning her, but in quite another direction, to join the -little crowd of sympathizing friends who were gathered at the door of -the silversmith. - -Pepé was standing there with a gayly caparisoned donkey, destined to -bear the _novia_ to the village some eight miles distant, where the lazy -priest who divided his time between the sinners of that point and Tres -Hermanos, had consented to earn a royal fee by uniting two poor peasants -in holy matrimony. “It is but for once,” Gabriel had hopefully remarked; -“and though one runs in debt for the wedding, one can hold one’s head -above one’s neighbors, to say nothing of dying in peace, if a bull’s -horn finds its way some unlucky day between one’s ribs.” - -Gabriel was a man who honored the proprieties, and Juana was well -pleased with the good fortune that had awarded her to him; though he was -twice her age, and had a squint which made ludicrous his most amorous -glances. - -“What has happened?” cried Pepé in a disappointed tone, as Chinita -darted past him. “Didst thou not say thou wouldst ride with Juana? She -has been waiting for thee this half hour. The _novio_ will be on his way -before her if we tarry longer, and thou knowest what that portends. The -impatient lover becomes the husband never appeased! the wife shall wait -many a day for him.” - -“Bah!” returned Chinita, “if Juana were of my mind the _novio_ would -wait so long that her turn to play at _paciencia_ would never arrive.” - -“Go to!” cried a woman who stood near, “who would have imagined thou -wouldst be so envious, Chinita; and thou but a child yet? But thou art -one that hast been brought up between cotton, and expectest the soft -places all thy life.” - -“Pshaw!” answered Chinita. “Speak of what thou knowest, Señora -Gomesinda; and thou, Pepé, cease making eyes at me. Thinkest thou I have -nothing better to do than to ride after Juana to see her married to yon -black giant of a vaquero, who will manage his wife as he does his -horses,—with a thong? I tell thee as I tell her, he is not worth the -beating she got when he asked for her!” - -“Ay, Señora,” cried Gomesinda, shrilly, “was ever such talk from the -mouth of a modest girl? What could a reasonable father and mother do for -a girl when a man asks her in marriage? It is plain she must have played -some tricks of our Señora Madre Eva to have beguiled him. Ay, but I -remember my mother flailed me black and blue when José asked for me. I -warrant you I screamed so hard the whole neighborhood knew she was doing -the honorable part by me. Thank Heaven, I knew what was proper as well -as another, and if I had given the man a glance from the corner of my -eyes, I was willing my shoulders should suffer for it. One may tell of -it when one is the mother of ten children.” - -During this harangue, Chinita had slipped by her, and darted into the -hut. She threw her arms around the expectant bride, who dressed in the -stiffest of starched skirts, the upper one of which was of flowered pink -muslin, stood waiting the finishing touches of her sponsor. - -“What, thou art not ready?” cried Juana in a dejected tone, surveying -Chinita with disapproving eyes. “Gabriel has twice sent messages that -the sun has risen, and that the Señor Priest likes not to be kept long -fasting, and thou knowest, as the priest sings the sacristan answers.” - -“Ay,” said Chinita, laughing, “a lesson in patience will be good for -both the priest and thy Gabriel; but it will bode thee ill if he learns -it at the tavern, as I saw him doing just now. Truly, Juana, thou must -go without me. I am in no humor to go so far on thy ambling donkey;” and -she drew herself up with an air of hauteur, which did not escape the -observant eye of the bride, who said, with a reproachful look,— - -“What have I done? Did I ever give thee a sharp word, Chinita?” - -For answer, Chinita threw her arms around the girl’s neck; for she was -really fond of Juana, who had ever been a gentle girl, and had borne her -perverse humors with a sort of admiring patience which had flattered and -won the heart of the wayward one. Completely mollified, Juana pressed -her cheek against Chinita’s shoulder, for she had turned her face away, -and said, “But thou wilt put on thy finest clothes and sit beside me at -the fandango, wilt thou not? And thou wilt help my sponsor to dress me. -See! Dost thou think she has done well this time?” and the girl threw -her scarf from her head and shoulders, and exhibited her long, -well-oiled tresses with an air of conscious vanity. - -“Nothing could be better,” declared Chinita, heartily, pulling out a -loop of the bright red ribbons. “Yes, yes,” she added with some effort, -“I will stay beside thee all through the feast. Thou hast ever been a -good friend of mine, Juana. There, there, they are calling thee;” and -she pushed her toward the door, where by this time a noisy crowd had -gathered. - -Instead of only one donkey, there were five or six standing there, with -gay bridles and necklaces of horsehair, brightened with cords of red or -blue, and with panniers covered with well-trimmed sheepskins. As the -Señora Madrina said, “She who should ride upon them would think herself -on cushions of down.” On the most luxurious of these rural thrones Juana -was raised, and upon the others her mother and a number of her female -friends, mostly in pairs, were accommodated; and with many injunctions -from the bystanders to hasten, the bridal party were at last dismissed -upon their way. - -Laughing and chattering, the women dispersed to their huts to grind a -fresh stint of maize to replace the tortillas and atolé that had been -carried away by the soldiers; but Chinita sat down at the door of the -adobe hut thus temporarily deserted, and with a smile of derision upon -her lips watched the group of men congregated around the village shop. -The bridegroom, a middle-aged man, with a dark face deeply imbrowned by -the sun and seamed with scars (for he had been a soldier before he was a -vaquero), stood in the midst of them, dressed in a suit of buff leather, -gay with embroidery. The embossed leather sheath of his knife showed in -his scarlet waist-scarf, and immense spurs clanked on his heels in -response to the buttons and chains on the half-opened sides of his -riding trousers of goat-skin. He was a picturesque figure—though -Chinita’s accustomed eyes failed to recognize that—as he stood with his -wide, silver-laced hat pushed back upon the mat of black hair that -crowned his swarthy countenance, holding high the small glass of mezcal -which he was about to drink in favor of the toast some comrade had -proposed. Meanwhile, his companions were noisily hilarious, rallying him -with impossible prophesies of good fortune, to which he listened with an -air of imperturbability which was part of the etiquette of the -occasion,—for in all the world can be found no greater slave to his -peculiar code of manners than the Mexican ranchero. - -The party on donkey-back had almost disappeared upon the horizon before -it seemed to occur to the group at the tavern store that any movement -was expected from them. More than once the women had stopped in their -household tasks to call out a shrill “Go on! go on! By the saints, man, -will you keep the priest waiting?” and still Gabriel affected the -indifferent, until as if by accident he strolled toward his horse, which -stood champing the bit impatiently. Immediately there was a rush of his -best friends, and the triumphant one who caught the stirrup and held it -as the bridegroom mounted claimed the luck-gift for the good news of the -departure,—which was effected at once after a series of pirouettes and -caracolling, by Gabriel’s putting spurs to his steed and galloping madly -away, followed by his friends as quickly as they could throw themselves -into their saddles. - -The spell of the day before continued still so to rest upon her that -Chinita neither joined in the cheer nor the laughter of the women, but -turned slowly toward Pedro’s hut. The cravings of a healthy appetite -subdued for the moment the pride that scorned the lowly home. It was -natural to go there for the corn-cake and the draught of atolé or -chocolate with which to break her fast. She found the share left for -her; but after a mouthful or two it seemed to grow bitter to her taste. -She divided it petulantly among the children who clamored around her, -and in response to a call from Florencia went to Selsa’s hut where they -were making tortillas for the wedding feast, arrogantly refusing to -help, yet glad of accustomed companionship. Much as she resented old -associations, the wrench was too great for her to separate herself from -them at once, especially as she had no conception of what could or -should take their place. She was like a child upon the banks of a river -that separates it from the farther shore which it longs to reach, though -dreading to push forth from the land it knows, rough and forlorn though -it may be. There was with Chinita a strange sense of clinging to a past -which was irrevocably severed from her, of impatience of a problem of -the future to be solved, and of lack of will to set herself to its -solution, as she went from hut to hut. The fever of her mind expended -itself first in seething irony and jests, and later in a wild -repentance, which manifested itself in quick embraces of the half -offended women, and in practical toil, which effectually promoted the -preparations for the feast, and went far to restore her to the good -graces of the harassed workers. Indeed, often enough they paused in -their labors to listen and laugh, as she stood at the brasiers fanning -the glowing charcoal, or watching the tortillas taken from the flat -_comal_ and piled in heaps upon the fringed and embroidered napkins used -on such occasions of ceremony; or went from dish to dish of black beans, -or red and fiery chile rich with pork or fowl; or gazed with positive -admiration upon the kids and lambs, stuffed with almonds and raisins, -forcemeat and olives, and other delicacies, which drawn smoking from the -earthen ovens attested the generosity of the administrador toward his -favorite vaquero. - -Toward noon the bride and her party returned, ambling home upon their -donkeys, as humbly as they had gone. Juana was conducted to her future -home, and her mother-in-law, welcoming her with distant ceremony, -intended to inspire respect, suffered her to touch her cheek with her -lips, then led her to the inner room, where lay the apparel for her -adornment,—a number of toilets being indispensable upon the occasion, -and indicative of the pretensions of the bridegroom who had hired them. - -Chinita, in her mingled mood of disdain and levity, had neglected to -keep her promise of putting on holiday attire, and stood in some awe and -much admiration before the bride as she at last appeared in the little -bower or tent that had been raised for her at one side of the hut, -facing upon the plaza where the feast was to be held. The little -woman—for she was not fully grown—was resplendent in a stiff-flowered -brocade of many colors, trimmed with real Spanish lace and bedecked with -flowers, and wore a necklace and bracelets of imitation gems set in -filagree, fit, as her sponsor proudly declared, for the Blessed Virgin -upon the high altar. - -Juana threw a glance of reproach upon Chinita; but her new dignity -forbade recrimination. A shout presently announced that the bridegroom -was in sight. The bride, well-drilled in her part, kept her glance fixed -on the ground; and as he swept by her bower Gabriel deigned not a look, -but reined in his horse at his own door with a sudden turn of the hand -which almost threw the animal on its haunches, and before his stirrup -could be seized had thrown himself from his saddle and was shaking hands -with his friends, and immediately the feast began. - -There was no table set. The fires burned at the corners of the plaza, -and the women stood over them, dispensing the fragrant contents of the -jars to all comers. Yet in this apparent informality the strictest -decorum was observed, and not a mouthful was swallowed or a drink of -_pulque_ or milky _chia_, without a friendly interchange of courtesies, -which rather increased than grew less as the hours flew by. - -The proverb is true that at a wedding the bride eats least; and at that -of the Mexican peasant the saying becomes a law. Juana was too well -drilled in the proprieties to touch a morsel of the delicacies offered -her, but wore constantly the air of timid resignation with which she had -met the assumed indifference of her spouse, who resolutely avoided -casting even a glance in the direction where she held her court,—the -women crowding with ever increasing admiration to view her after each -change of toilet, as they might have done to examine a gorgeous picture, -commenting loudly upon the taste of the dresser and the liberality of -the groom. But nothing could be more satisfactory to her than this -feigned indifference of her husband. “Is not Gabriel an angel?” she took -occasion to ask Chinita, as for the tenth time she was changing her -apparel. “Imagine to yourself twelve changes of clothing, and he acts as -if the hiring of them were nothing! What a difference between him and -Pancho Orteago, who was married at Easter! Four beggarly suits were all -he provided for Anita, and not one silk among them; and he actually was -quite close to her again and again, with mouth open, as if he would eat -her! Such an idiot! He would have spoken to her if he had had the -chance. I should think she was half dead with mortification! Such -foolishness in public! Her mother cried with vexation; and no wonder, -with such a slur cast on the family!” - -“Yet it has been like a marriage of turtle-doves!” cried Chinita. “Let -us see, little woman, if thou wilt say that of thy own six months -hence!” - -Juana shrugged her shoulders and returned to her seat, with her eyes -more coyly cast down, and a dejected mien, which might not have been -altogether assumed; for, too earnest in acting her part even to take -food in private, she was not unnaturally almost spent with the long and -ceremonious state which for perhaps the only time in her life she was -called upon to maintain. - -By this time, torches of fat pine were blazing at every door-post, and -the strumming of harps and guitars and many primitive instruments became -incessant. Groups of men, drowsy or hilarious, as the mezcal and pulque -they had drunk chanced to affect them, were stretched on the ground, -lazily watching and criticising the slow and untiring movements of the -fandango; now and then one would spring up, to place himself before some -dusky partner, who would raise the song in her shrill monotone, swaying -and bending her body in unison with the gliding steps, which seemed as -untiring as they were fascinating. - -Occasionally the shrill song of the women was enlivened by the snapping -of the fingers and thumbs of the men; and more than once, though it had -been forbidden, the sharp crack of a pistol-shot indicated the -irrepressible excitement of some enthusiastic dancer. As the night wore -on, the click of the castanets became more frequent, and the weird and -tender refrain of _La paloma_ gave place to a bacchanalian chorus. Yet -this chorus ever bore an undertone of pathos and sentiment which seemed -to render impossible the absolute frenzy and rudeness of mirth that -would be apt to characterize such scenes in other lands,—though the -element of danger that lurked within began to show itself in scornful -glances, and the contemptuous turning of shoulder or head. - -The night was chilly and dark, for it was the rainy season, and there -was no moon; but the light from scores of torches and from the tripod of -burning pitch set in the middle of the plaza illuminated the entire -village. The great house was set so high that the lurid glare reached no -farther than its gates; yet while its massive façade was in comparative -darkness, from its windows the scene of revelry was glowingly distinct, -and irresistibly attracted even the indifferent gaze of Doña Isabel. - -Late in the evening she stepped into her balcony; Doña Feliz joined her, -and they wrapped themselves in their black rebosos, and silently -regarded the scene. The dances and sports of the peasantry had been -familiar to them from their childhood. A pleasurable excitement thrilled -the veins of each as they gazed. This gayety was as far beneath them as -the follies of our life may be beneath the pleasures of angels, yet -pleased the exalted sense of kindly interest in the affairs of plebeian -humanity. They began to murmur to each other something of this feeling, -when suddenly both became silent. A single figure had caught the glances -of both. It was that of Chinita, who, scornful and cool while the slow -_afforados_ and _jarabes_ were in progress, had yielded to the seductive -strains of the waltz, and was drawn from her station at Juana’s side by -a rural beau from a neighboring village. The two whirled in the mazy -dance, presently beginning a series of improvised changes, possible only -to the subtle grace of youth under the spell of excitement wrought to -its height by music, wine, and amorous flattery. One by one the other -couples ceased dancing, the fingers of the musicians flew over their -instruments, and the swift feet of Chinita and her partner kept time. -Sometimes they swept together around the circle formed by the admiring -onlookers; anon Chinita, lifting her arms to the cadence of the music, -waved her swain away, and circled round him like a bird poising for -descent, then glided again to his arms; or turning one bare shoulder -from which the reboso had fallen, looked back upon him with soft, -languorous eyes which challenged pursuit, while she fled with the speed -of the wind. - -The circle were enraptured, and broke into loud _vivas_, or joined in -the words of the air to which the pair were dancing. Pedro stood with -the rest, watching with shining eyes; but at his side was a young woman, -whose dark brows were drawn together in a spasm of rage. This was -Elvira, a young widow, to whom the stranger was plighted, and who in the -utter abandonment of her lover to the dance with another younger and -fairer than herself, found a fair excuse for the mad jealousy that -surged through heart and brain, and convulsed her features. But there -was none to notice her; all eyes were bent upon the dancers, when a -sudden turn brought them both before the infuriated woman. Seizing a -knife from the belt of the unconscious Pedro, she sprang toward Chinita, -with intent to wreak the usual vengeance of the jealous country-woman by -slashing her across the cheek or mouth, and thus destroying her beauty -forever. But quick as a flash Pepé, the derided but faithful, threw -himself between them, receiving the blow in his arm; but shouting and -gesticulating with pain, he made ridiculous a scene which might have -been heroic. - -This was no uncommon incident at such gatherings, and roused more -laughter than dismay. The dance suddenly ceased. Chinita, panting with -exertion, threw herself with a cry for protection upon Pedro, who in -rage had involuntarily grasped for the missing knife that had so nearly -accomplished so foul a work; and Benito, recalled to his allegiance by -this undoubted proof of his Elvira’s devotion, turned to her with words -of mingled reproach and endearment. Pepé, in spite of his outcry, was -quite unnoticed in the general excitement until his sister the bride, -forgetting her dignity, forced her way through the crowd and bound her -large lace handkerchief over the bleeding wound. - -“Thou shalt come home!” said Pedro, resolutely, as Chinita struggled in -his grasp, with a half defined intention of assailing the woman who had -assaulted her, and who was being led sobbing away by her repentant -lover. “What will the Señora think of thee?” he added in a whisper. “She -is on her balcony.” - -Chinita glanced up. She could see nothing against the great blank wall -that loomed in the near distance, but a sensation of acute shame -overcame her. She suddenly remembered that which in her brief delirium -she had forgotten. She turned from the throng as though they had been -serpents, and fled up the path to the gate, dashing against it -breathless. The postern was open. She felt for it with her hands and -darted through, coming full upon Doña Isabel. Feliz followed her lady, -both looking like spectres under the rough stone arch of the vestibule, -with its grim garniture of serpents and fierce-eyed wild beasts. - -“Wretched girl!” cried Doña Isabel, as Chinita stopped like a deer at -bay. “Wretched girl!” grasping her with a grip of steel, yet shaking as -with ague. “Hast thou a wound? Is the mark of shame on thy face already? -My God! Oh, child! Canst thou not speak?” - -“I will kill her!” gasped Chinita, too much excited herself to be -surprised by the agitation of Doña Isabel, or to wonder at her presence. -“To-morrow I will find her and give her such a blow as she would have -given me. What will her Benito care for her then?” - -“What is he to thee?” cried Doña Isabel, catching the girl by the wrist, -and looking into her eyes,—“he or any such _canalla_? Come thou with -me!—with me, I say!” She threw a glance, half inquiring, half defiant, -at Feliz, who stood with her eyes cast down, her face strangely white, -yet inexpressive. “Come thou with me,” she reiterated, scanning the girl -from her unkempt shock of tawny curls to her unshod feet. A blush passed -over the usually colorless and haughty face of the lady, as she added -slowly, “before it is too late.” - -The girl and the mistress of Tres Hermanos looked at each other -searchingly; then Doña Isabel turned and led the way across the court. -Chinita followed her with head erect and sparkling eyes. Pedro entered -at the instant, but his foster daughter did not hear him; but Feliz, who -gave way that the strangely associated lady and girl might pass, looked -up, and her eyes met those of the gatekeeper. Pedro approached with his -Indian, cat-like silence of movement, and found her standing as if in a -dream. The eyes of the man filled with tears. He was too lowly to -manifest resentment at the studied reserve he believed Doña Feliz had -for years preserved toward him, while still she had made him her tool. -He and such as he were made for use. Yet inferior as he was, they had -been workers in a common cause, and their common purposes seemed now -frustrated at a word. - -He bent humbly and touched the fringe of her reboso. - -“Have I done well, Doña Feliz?” he queried in a broken voice. “Alas! I -can do no more. You see how blood flows to blood, as the brooks turn to -the river.” - -Feliz started. “Strange! strange!” she muttered. She turned upon Pedro a -glance of mingled pity and deprecation. She seemed about to say more, -but paused. “Thou art a good man, Pedro,” she presently whispered. “Thou -hast done a greater work than thou guessest. Be content. Thou knowest -the child’s nature,—Chinita will not suffer with Doña Isabel; but she -who thrust from her bosom the dove will perchance warm the adder into -life.” - -“No, no!” cried the man, vehemently. “Cruel, bitter woman! Chinita hath -been my child, and though she turn from me I will hear no evil of her. I -will live or die for her!” The unwonted outburst ended in a sob, and -before he could speak again, Doña Feliz had passed across the court, -but—strange condescension!—she had seized his hand and pressed it to her -lips, in irresistible homage to a devotion as pure and unselfish as that -of the loftiest knight who ever drew sword in the cause of helpless -innocence. - -Pedro turned to his alcove dazed, stunned. To him it was as if a star -should leave its place in heaven to touch the vilest clod upon the -highway. A very miracle! - - - - - XXIII. - - -Although Doña Rita had left her home upon a sad errand, and her tears -flowed fast when on embracing her mother she beheld upon her countenance -the shadow of death, that first startling impression vanquished, she -allowed herself to be deceived by the fitful brightness that hovers over -the consumptive; and as days passed on she felt a pleased sense of -freedom and relaxation, and her return to her early home, which had been -undertaken as a pilgrimage, assumed much of the character of an ordinary -visit of pleasure. - -Doña Rita was a member of a large family, of whom most had married; so -that her parents, relieved from cares that had long pressed upon them, -were enabled to live in the little town of El Toro with an ease and -comfort from which in their narrow circumstances they had necessarily -been debarred while the children were dependent. They were, strictly -speaking, people of the class known as _medio_ _pelo_, or “the -half-clothed order,” as far below the aristocrat as above the plebeian; -and Rita Farias had been thought to have risen greatly in life when she -became the wife of Rafael Sanchez, though he was then but a clerk, the -son of the administrador of Tres Hermanos, with no prospect of -succeeding soon to his honors. But as the pious neighbors said when they -heard of the early death of the bridegroom’s father, “God blessed her -with both hands,” of which one held marriage, and the other death; so -Doña Rita was accustomed when she at rare intervals visited her parents -to be looked upon with ever increasing respect. Such silken skirts and -rebosos as she wore were seldom seen within the quiet precincts of El -Toro. - -Doña Rita herself was not quite clear upon the point as to whether or -not her native place could be considered to rival “the City,” as Mexico -was called _par excellence_, or even Guadalajara, which she had heard -was a labyrinth of palaces; but Rosario who had seen El Toro declared to -Chata that nothing could be finer, and Chata herself was quite convinced -of that when opening her eyes suddenly upon the clear moonlight night on -which the diligence stopped before the door of the inn, she first looked -out upon the plaza. - -The two girls shivered a little in their sudden awakening, as, scarcely -knowing how, they were lifted from the diligence and stood upon their -feet at the door of the inn, with an injunction to watch the basket, the -five parcels tied in paper or towels, the drinking-gourd, the bottle of -claret, and the young parrot which their mother had brought with her as -a suitable gift to her declining relative. With habitual obedience they -did as they were bid, more than once rescuing a parcel from the long, -skinny claw of a blear-eyed hag, who crouched in the shadow of the wall -whining for alms, while at the same time they cast their admiring -glances at the really beautiful church upon which the white rays of the -moonlight streamed, converting it for the nonce into a symmetrical pile -of virgin snow or spotless alabaster. The priest’s house, a long low -building with numerous barred windows, stood on one side of it, while an -angle of the square was formed by a mass of buildings, the frowning -walls of which were apparently unpierced by door or window. This was a -convent. Later the children learned to know well the gardens it -enclosed, and also the taste of the wonderful confections the -sweet-faced sisters made. The other buildings seemed poor and small in -comparison to those, with the exception of the inn which rose gloomily -behind them, a solitary rush-light burning palely in the yawning -vestibule, and the torches flaming in the courtyard, where benighted -travellers were loudly bargaining for lodgings,—no hope of supper -presenting itself at that late hour. - -While Rosario and Chata were noticing these things with wide-open eyes -but with ill suppressed yawns, Don Rafael and Doña Rita were returning -the salutations of the concourse of friends who had come to meet them; -and as soon as the children had been embraced in succession by each -affectionate cousin or punctilious friend, they were hurried across the -plaza upon the side where the shadows lay black as ink, and with a -regretful glance at the seeming palaces of marble that rose on either -hand were conducted with much kindly help and cheerfulness over the -rough cobble-stones along a narrow street of single-storied houses, -above the walls of which, as if piercing the roofs, rose at intervals -tall slender trees, indicating the well-planted courts within. Reaching -the more scattered portions of the town where the moonlight shone clear -over open fields and walled gardens and orchards, with low adobe houses -scattered among them, they at last entered, somewhat to the -disappointment of Chata, a rather pretentious house which fronted -directly upon the street. She was consoled upon the following day to -find a garden at the back, where a triangle of pink roses of Castile, -larkspur, and red geraniums grew, almost choking with their luxuriance -the beds of onions and chiles, and rivalling in glory of color the -“manta de la Virgin” or convolvulus, which entirely covered the -half-ruinous stone-wall—the gaps filled with tuñas and magueys—which -divided the cultivated land from the thickets of mesquite and cactus -that lay beyond. - -In the garden the children spent many hours while their mother sat -chatting at the side of the invalid, who rallied wonderfully as she -heard the endless tales of her daughter’s prosperity; though like many -another _nouveau riche_, Doña Rita had her fancied self-denials to -complain of. One of the clerks at the hacienda had a wife whose father -had given her a string of pearls as large as cherries upon her wedding -day, while she the wife of the administrador was left to blush over the -shabby necklace—not a bead of which was bigger than a pea—which Rafael -had gone in debt to give her on her wedding day, and which until the -advent of the fortunate Doña Gomesinda she had thought most beautiful; -and then too her dearest friend had a daughter who would inherit a fine -house of three rooms or more in that very town, and money and jewels fit -for a _hacendado’s_ daughter; and it was quite possible that she would -marry—who could tell? it might even be an attorney or an official,—while -with two to endow (and it was well known that Rafael loved to enjoy as -he went), Heaven only knew to what her own flesh and blood were doomed! -There was Rosario for example,—and her own grandmother, who would not be -prejudiced, could judge if there was a prettier or more daintily-bred -girl in the whole town,—what chance was there that an officer or an -attorney, or indeed any one but a clerk, a ranchero, or a poor -shop-keeper, should pretend to their alliance when they could give so -poor a dower with their daughter? Doña Rita’s eyes filled with tears, -and decidedly she was obliged to compress her lips very tightly to -prevent herself from uttering further complaint; for since Rosario had -with true Mexican precocity burst into the full glory of young -womanhood, this had become a very real grievance to her mother, but one -of which, with the awe of the promoted as well as trained daughter and -wife, she had seldom ventured to hint of either to Doña Feliz or Don -Rafael. - -As Rosario had outgrown her sister in physique, so had she also in -womanly dignity and apparent force of intellect At least she thought of -matters, and even to her admiring mother and female relatives began to -give weighty opinions upon affairs which either wearied Chata or -interested her little. The grandfather, old Don José Maria, used to sit -under a fig-tree watching with disapproving eyes as Chata darted hither -and thither chasing a butterfly or ruby-throated humming-bird, or with -her lap full of flowers or neglected sewing pored over some entrancing -book lent her by the village priest (he was a man whose ideas, had he -not been the Santo Padre, would have been the last that should have been -tolerated in the bringing up of sedate and simple maidens); and those -same eyes lighted with pride as they fell on Rosario, beating eggs to a -froth to mix with honey and almonds for her grandfather’s delectation, -or bending over a brasier of ruddy charcoal watching anxiously the -cooking of the _dulce_, of which already more successes than failures -showed her a born artist. Then again sometimes, when Don José came in -the cool of the evening from the plaza where he had been to buy his jar -of pulque or his handful of garlic, he could see his favorite sitting -demurely in the upper balcony with her head bent over her needle, -listening it is true to that _maldito libro_, “that pernicious book,” -which Chata was reading, but as far as he could see doing no other harm, -unless the very fact of a young and pretty girl looking into the street -was a harm in itself,—but _Maria Purissima!_ one must not be too -rigorous with one’s own flesh and blood: like others before him and more -who will come after, Don José Maria forgot in tenderness to the -grandchildren the discipline he had thought absolutely necessary with -the preceding generation. - -Chata, too, thought it delightful to sit on the balcony and peer through -the wooden railing at the long stretch of sand which led far away where -the houses dwindled into a few half-ruinous hovels, where children and -dogs throve as well as the bristling cacti. On Sunday mornings very -early, as the mother and daughters came from Mass along that road, they -used to be covered with dust thrown up by the scores of plodding donkeys -who wended their way to the plaza laden with charcoal and vegetables, -eggs and screaming fowls. Doña Rita and her daughters would cover their -faces with their rebosos, and trip daintily by, scarcely appeased by the -admiring salutations and apologies of the drivers, who pulling off their -rough straw hats apostrophized the dust and the scorching sun and the -clumsy donkey, “by your license be the name spoken!” - -Sometimes more distinguished wayfarers passed over the road and turned -into the inn, or rode on to the barracks which lay quite at the opposite -extremity of the little town; for it happened that a company of soldiers -were quartered there. They were for the most part well clad in a gay -uniform of red and blue, and every man had a profusion of stripes on his -sleeves or lace on his cap. No one knew and no one asked whether they -were Mochos or Puros, Conservatives or Liberals,—for the nonce they were -Ramirez’s men. This General had been a Liberal the month before, and was -suspected of favoring the clergy at this time. Who could tell? Who knew -what he might be on the morrow? In the night all cats are gray; in times -of perplexity all soldiers are patriots. The ragged urchins of El Toro -threw up their hats for the soldiers of Ramirez, and the discreet -householders leaned from their balconies every evening to hear the -little band play, and to exult for a brief quarter of an hour in the -mild excitement inseparable from a garrison town. - -Chata and Chinita had delighted in the distant music, and had caught -glimpses of the soldiers, as disenchanting as those of the rude grimy -structures they had in the moonlight imagined to be marble palaces; they -had gazed up and down the dusty street and watched the noisy ragged -urchins play “Toro” with a big-horned, long-haired, decrepit goat, with -crowds of half naked elfin-faced girls as spectators, until they were -actually beginning to weary of the attractions of the town and long for -home,—when one day the beat of a drum was heard and a squad of soldiers -went filing past, with a young officer riding at their head, who threw a -glance so killing at the balcony where the young girls stood that, -whether intended to reach her or not, it pierced the heart of Rosario on -the instant. - -Chata had also noticed the young officer (a slender undersized young -fellow, with a swarthy lean face and keen black eyes, shaded by a -profusely decorated sombrero), but merely as a part of the mimic -pageant,—a prominent part, for the trappings of his horse, as well as -his own dress, were covered by that profusion of ornament affected by -gallants whose capital was invested in the adornment of the person with -which they hoped to conquer fortune; for in those days there were -numberless roystering adventurers, who to a modicum of valor united a -vanity and assurance which provided many a rich girl with a dashing and -fickle husband, and his country with a soldier as false to Mexico as to -his Doña Fulana. - -It was just after this that evening after evening Rosario would lean -pensively over the balcony rail, resisting Chata’s entreaties to come to -the garden where there was no dust to stifle them, and where the dew -would soon begin to fall upon the larkspurs and roses, and already the -wide white cups of the _gloria mundo_ were beginning to fill with -perfume. The dew would chill her, the perfume sicken her, Rosario said. -Chata remonstrated; Rosario smirked and smiled. Chata grew vexed; she -thought the smile in mockery of her. She need not have lost her sweet -temper,—Rosario was thinking of a far different person. The young -captain was walking slowly down the opposite side of the street; he had -just laid his hand on his heart. It was on him Rosario smiled. - -Doña Rita, discreetest of mothers, was not one to leave her daughters to -their own devices unwatched. It was she who always accompanied them in -their walks or to Mass; yet curiously enough the young captain found -means to slip a tiny note into Rosario’s ready hand, as she knelt on the -grimy stone floor of the church. Obviously, Doña Rita could not be in -two places at once, and she usually knelt behind Chata, who needed -perhaps some maternal supervision at her devotions; and it came about -that the space behind Rosario was occupied by some stranger. It was Don -José Maria who first noticed that quite as a matter of course that -stranger grew to be the Captain Don Fernando Ruiz; and quite -accidentally it happened that thereafter the mother and daughters went -to an earlier Mass. Don José Maria was not so early a riser as Don -Fernando was; so he was not there, while the young soldier was in his -usual place. - -Chata was perhaps a stupid little creature,—Rosario it is quite certain -would never have done such a silly thing; but one day when Don Fernando -had pressed a note into the hand which was nearest to him, and which in -the confusion of dispersal happened to be that of the smaller sister, -she gave it in some indignation to her mother. It was full of violent -protestations of affection, and entreated the life of his life to give -her lover hope; it was signed her “agonized yet adoring Fernando.” - -Doña Rita showed herself capable of great self-control; she said sadly -that she would not ask which had been guilty of attracting such -impassioned admiration, but she assured the girls she was heart-broken. -When she reached the house, after first carefully closing the door that -her father might not hear, she rated them both soundly. Chata did not -think it strange they should both be thought guilty; she assumed that -Rosario was as innocent as herself. Doña Rita, giving Rosario the note -to read, that she might learn for herself the daring and presumption of -which man is capable, forgot in her indignation to reclaim it. An hour -afterward Chata saw Rosario read it over in secret, and was scandalized -to see her kiss it; and late that day, as they stood as usual on the -balcony (the little mother, as Chata remarked, was so forgiving!), she -caught Rosario’s hand spasmodically as Fernando passed by, but the girl -released it with some impatience and slyly kissed the tips of her -fingers,—and Chata, with a pang of awakening, realized that her sister -had not been and was not so innocent of coquetry as she had assumed, and -thenceforth suffered indescribable tortures between her sense of loyalty -to her sister and duty to her mother. - -Rosario’s ideal of truth was in accordance with that which surrounded -her; to be silent when speech was undesirable, to equivocate pleasantly -where plain speaking would be harsh, to tell a lie gracefully where -truth would offend,—this was her natural creed, which she had never -questioned. But Chata, unknown to herself, had never accepted it; her -soul was like certain material objects which resist the dyes that other -substances at once absorb. It was not enough for her to give the truth -when it was asked,—it was a torture, an unnatural crime, to her to -withhold it. She would not indeed have done so in this case, had not -Rosario in a manner put her upon her honor the very next day. - -The washerwoman had been there, and Rosario, who was an embryo -housewife, had been deputed to attend her, and Chata, who had gladly -escaped the duty, ran to the bedroom when she saw the servant depart to -congratulate her sister on the dispatch she had made; when Rosario -closing the door mysteriously, cried: “Look! look what he has sent me! -Is it not beautiful, charming, divine?” and she held up to the light her -hand, on the first finger of which glittered a ring. - -Truth to tell, Chata was dazzled; at that moment her own insignificance -and the womanliness and beauty of Rosario were more than ever apparent. -She gazed at Rosario with greater admiration than on the ring, beautiful -though it was. Here was a sister just her own age, yet a woman with an -actual lover! Oh! - -“What will our mother say?” she began in an awed voice, when Rosario, -her womanly dignity gone, began to spring up and down, screaming yet -laughing, “_Ay, Dios mio!_” throwing her hand over her shoulder and -slipping it into the loose neck of her dress. “Oh, my life! the creature -is down my back! it is crawling now on my shoulder! No, no, -grandfather,” for Don José Maria had entered, “it is Chata who will help -me. No, my mother! Ay, it is gone now! I would not have you frightened, -it was but one of those bright little beetles that live on the roses;” -and she contemptuously tossed something out of the window, and Chata saw -with speechless wonder that the ring which had been on her finger was -gone. The bauble at least had slipped into a secure hiding-place, and -Chata really could not determine whether the beetle had ever existed or -no. - -An air of delightful mystery began to pervade not only the house but the -quiet street all the way from the plaza, which Don Fernando Ruiz crossed -at intervals in the long, dull, sultry days. It became quite a diversion -to the initiated to watch what clever turns and doublings he would make, -and with what assumed indifference he would linger by the fruit-stand at -the corner, where old Antonina sold tuñas or a few poor figs and lumps -of roasted cassava root. She made quite a fortune from the young -captain, who seemed bent on dazzling her bleared eyes; for every day, -and sometimes three or four times in a day, he appeared resplendent in -uniform of blue and red, or a riding suit of buckskin embroidered in -silver, or perhaps, when his mood was sombre, in black hung with silver -buttons, and more than once in a suit of velvet and embossed leather, -with buttons of gold set with brilliants, and riding a horse with -accoutrements so splendid that Doña Rita declared he must be as rich as -the Marquis of Carabas himself, and without any apparent consistency -embraced Rosario with tears. - -Truth to tell, Doña Rita was a match-maker born, and though her talents -had lain dormant during the years she had spent at the hacienda, they -had not declined; and it was natural that she should find a quiet -exultation in exerting them in favor of her daughter, for young though -Rosario was, her precocity and the custom of the country and period -rendered it perfectly natural that marriage should present itself in her -immediate future. - -A vision of it rose before the impassioned girl like a star, though -there was a period of clouds and mourning when her grandmother died, and -Chata, sobbing in the garden or moving sadly about the darkened rooms, -wondered that Rosario could smile over those pink notes she was always -stealing into corners to pore over. During the nine days that her mother -remained within doors receiving visits of condolence, the notes indeed -were the aliment upon which Rosario’s fancy fed; for Doña Rita, though -the little drama of courtship had undoubtedly made less absorbing to her -the tragedy of illness and death, was too strict an observer of the -proprieties to allow her maternal affection to betray her at such a time -into permitting even a shutter to be left ajar, or to suffer her -daughter to approach a window to satisfy herself by a momentary peep as -to whether the love-lorn captain was on his accustomed beat or no. It -was a time however when without offence the veriest stranger might leave -a card and word of sympathy, and this he never failed to do from day to -day. Doña Rita would glance at the bit of cardboard with an affectation -of indifference, but it would always shortly disappear from the table, -and with the cruel sarcasm of childish intolerance Chata would suggest -to Rosario its suitability for baking the little puffs of sugar and -almonds upon, which she was so deft at compounding. - -At last the _novena_ of grief was ended, and taking her aged father’s -arm Doña Rita dutifully led him into the street to breathe the air. -Rosario knew that at that hour the captain was on duty at the barracks, -but nevertheless could not resist the opportunity of stepping into the -balcony and gazing upon the scene from which she had been so long -debarred. A neighbor across the way greeted her with a significant -smile; and somewhat piqued, Rosario drew back, half closed the shutters -with a hesitating hand, and then dropping on the floor in the long ray -of sunlight that streamed through the aperture, set herself to the ever -entrancing task of re-reading her lover’s letters. - -As she sat there opening them one by one and after perusal leaving them -unfolded in her lap, she became so absorbed that she did not notice the -passage of time until a footstep sounded behind her, and glancing up she -saw with trepidation that her grandfather was ushering in a tall and -imposing stranger, whose military garb made her heart beat madly, for a -wild thought of Fernando Ruiz flashed through her mind. Her confusion -was not lessened by perceiving that the visitor was a man of more -advanced age and infinitely greater assumption of rank. The telltale -letters were in her lap, though involuntarily she had dropped her reboso -over them; but she dared not rise lest they should drop in a shower -around her, and she equally feared the anger of her grandfather and the -condemnatory surprise of the visitor. - -“I pray you enter the house, Señor! Pass in, sir, pass in!” she heard -her grandfather say in his smoothest tones. “My daughter will be here -almost immediately; but she stopped at the convent for a moment to buy a -blessed candle to place before the altar of Our Lady of Succors. She -will be honored indeed by this visit. Take care, Señor, the room is -somewhat dark, but I will open a shutter. _Valgame Dios_, what have we -here?” as he caught sight of the bent figure sitting in the narrow -streak of sunshine. “_Caramba, niña_, rise! rise, I say! seest thou not -the Señor General?” - -“Ay, but I have the cramp in my poor foot, my grandfather,” cried -Rosario in a voice of lamentation, vainly endeavoring under cover of the -reboso to make some disposal of the letters which rustled alarmingly. -“_No, Señores_, by Blessed Mary my patroness, let me alone!” she cried, -as both her grandfather and the stranger attempted to help her,—the -latter with a faint gleam of amusement in his eyes, the former with -genuine consternation depicted on his face. “Ay, Chata,” for by this -time her sister had appeared. “Oh, but my back is broken! it is worse -than when you struck me with the stick when you were trying to knock the -peaches from the tree. Oh! ah! no, it is impossible for me to rise!” - -In dire affright Chata knelt before her. “Oh, what shall I do?” she -cried, in remorse at the remembrance of an escapade that had been almost -forgotten, and in sudden fear that it might have been the cause of her -sister’s present distress. “Oh, my life! I thought it was your poor -foot!” and she began rubbing one small slippered member, while Rosario -eagerly whispered, “Stupid one, hide me these letters!” and the -mystified Chata felt her sister’s hand with a mass of fluttering papers -thrust under her arm, covered with the ever useful reboso. - -Involuntarily the hapless confidant pressed them to her side, and at the -same moment Rosario limped from the room, inwardly raging at making so -poor a figure before the General, while Chata, standing for a moment -abashed, was about to follow, when a voice which bewildered her by its -strange yet familiar accent said gayly, “And you, my fair Señorita, have -you never a twinge of the same disorder that afflicts your sister?” and -he glanced meaningly at a pink envelope, which had fallen at her -feet,—at the same time covering it with his foot that it might not -attract the suspicious eye of the old man, who with profuse apologies -for the informality of the reception was assuring the visitor that until -that moment never had there been a healthier damsel than his -granddaughter Rosario, adding with a sigh, “But the Devil robs with one -hand and pinches with the other.” - -Chata trembled and blushed painfully as she raised her eyes timidly to -the General’s, while with a sense of the grotesque she was conscious of -wondering whether he, like herself, was thinking her grandfather had -suggested no complimentary agency in her grandmother’s removal to -another sphere. But at the instant all present perplexities vanished in -the surprise with which she recognized the face which she had seen but -for a few brief hours years before,—the face of the man of whom Chinita -had never grown weary of talking. “The Señor General Ramirez,” she said -in a low voice, with some awe. She was more than ever bewildered by the -look he had fixed upon her. She shrank back, barely dropping her hand -for a moment upon that he extended toward her. She was actually inclined -to be frightened, his eyes were so brilliant, his smile so eager. The -foolish thought struck her that had not her grandfather been there, this -strange imperious man would surely have taken her in his arms, would -have kissed her! She hurried from the room to find Rosario waiting for -her at the end of the corridor, alternately smothering her laughter in -the folds of her dress, and angrily chafing at her sister’s delay. - -“Your horrid letters!” cried Chata, thrusting them into her hands. -“Here, take them, read them, laugh over them or cry, or kiss them if you -will! I hope I shall never see a love-letter again in my life. He saw -them,—the Señor General. I know he did. Oh, what shame!” - -“Pshaw!” interrupted Rosario. “What does it matter? He will think none -the worse of me. Without doubt he is come on the part of Fernando to ask -for me. How proud and happy my mother will be, and how she will rail at -me! It will not be difficult for me to cry as I ought, for I am mad with -vexation to have appeared such a fool when I should have been so -dignified. Why, the Señor will think me a child still! Does he not look -like some one we know, Chata? And yet we can never have seen him -before.” - -“Yes,” returned Chata, “we have seen him. He is the General José -Ramirez.” - -“Ah, my heart!” ejaculated Rosario, dramatically. “What a misfortune! My -father hates the General Ramirez because he once had some horses driven -away from the hacienda; and besides he is a good Christian and fights -for the Church! Ay, unlucky Fernando, to have chosen such a messenger! -But thank Heaven, it is my mother who will first hear him! Ah, there she -comes!” and in irrepressible excitement Rosario grasped her sister’s -hand. “Oh, child!” she added sentimentally, “you too may be asked in -marriage some day!” and she sighed with an air of vastly superior -experience, while Chata revolved in her mind what her playfellow Chinita -would say when she told her of this unexpected meeting with the hero -whom she fancied she had rendered invincible by the gift of the amulet. - -Like most children of her country Chata wore a scapulary. It had lain -upon her breast ever since she could remember. She drew it out and -looked at it. Some day she thought she would open it; now she only made -the sign of the cross, as she replaced it. Rosario in nervous unrest had -left her. The cool of the evening had come; the perfume of the flowers -stole in at the open window, and the breeze soothed the unusual -agitation of her mind. Glad to be alone, yet anxious and perplexed, she -stepped into the garden. More than once as she walked down the alley she -stopped, her heart palpitating violently. She fancied she heard her name -called, or that Ramirez would step from the shadow of a tree to -encounter her. It was an unnatural and unchildlike mood quite new to -her. It seemed to her that her grandfather’s unnecessary mention of the -Devil’s name might have incited that enemy of innocence to annoy her, -and she whispered an _Ave_. - -There was a large cluster of bananas just behind the house. Chata sat -down there to watch the fantastic clouds which hovered where the sun had -set. In her absorption in the glowing scene she was unconscious that any -sound disturbed the silence around her. It was indeed but a low -indistinct hum, scarcely recognizable as the sound of human voices. Had -she noticed them, she would have remembered that she was within a foot -or two of a window which was screened from sight by the foliage, and -would have withdrawn from possible discovery; but as it was, she -remained there an unconscious trespasser. The first distinct sound that -reached her ear at once startled and impressed her, for it was the deep -voice of Ramirez uttering her own name. - -“Chata, yes it was Chata I said,” he affirmed dictatorially. “Why -attempt dissimulation with you, Señora? I am in no humor for trifling. -Will Doña Isabel provide a dowry for your daughter? It is my fancy that -Ruiz should marry the little one, and I can make or mar him. So far the -boy has blundered, but if he once turns his eyes on the pretty face of -Chata, he will not find the mistake irremediable.” - -Chata could not credit the evidence of her senses, and remained as if -rooted to the spot. She presently heard her mother sobbing: “This is an -unheard of thing! A young man pays court to one child,—perhaps she is -not insensible to his advances,—and his patron comes to me to bid me -give him another, whom he has not perhaps even glanced at. Oh, it is too -much! too much!” - -“I have already told you,” said Ramirez, coldly, “that Ruiz is poor. His -father was my father’s servant, and is mine; more than once he has saved -my life at the risk of his own. Years ago he rendered me a service that -I swore to repay in a certain manner. More than once of late I have been -reminded of my promise, and the marriage of Fernando with your daughter -would render its fulfilment impossible.” - -“By my patron saint!” cried Doña Rita, “it is strange indeed that a poor -little country girl should interfere with the projects of a man as great -as yourself. But even if that is possible, why bid me give him -Chata?”—adding with asperity, “have I not done enough? No, no! I will -not, I cannot make my Rosario a sacrifice!” - -“_Caramba!_” cried Ramirez, laughing, “is it so dreadful a thing that -she should wait until the next lover comes,—he will be sure to come, -Señora,—and that she should have a double dower to make her fairer in -his eyes? for I tell you Ruiz will ask no dowry from you with the little -one. Come, come, Señora, I am not used to reasoning and pleading, yet I -am not cruel. The child has been yours too long for me to tear her from -your arms. It was a cunning device of Doña Isabel to hide her from me. -Ah, it is not the first trick she has served me, and, like the others, -she will find it turn to my advantage!” - -“As Heaven is my witness,” ejaculated Doña Rita, in a voice of intense -impulse and fear, “never have I breathed to mortal the secret which you -seem to know! Who are you, sir? What have you to do with the child?” -Suddenly, she uttered a horrified shriek. Chata, who had started from -her seat with dilated eyes and lips parted, gasping for breath, heard -her mother spring to her feet, and rush toward the door; heard also -Ramirez follow her and apparently draw her back, remonstrating in low -tones. Then she realized no more. Perhaps she fainted, though to herself -there appeared no interruption of consciousness. Though she did not -notice the stars come out, she beheld them at last looking down upon -her, as if they heard the questions that were repeating themselves again -and again in her mind. Whose child was she; who was the man who claimed -the right to shape her destiny? That she was not the child of Rafael -Sanchez and his wife she felt certain. Doña Rita had not denied the -insinuation. - -The child—all childish thoughts suddenly crushed by the overwhelming -revelation she had surprised—remained in the same spot, unconscious of -the passage of time, until she heard her sister—no, Rosario—calling her -in anxious yet irritated tones: “Where art thou, Chata? Chata, the -supper is ready; the grandfather is angry that thou art so long in the -garden! Oh, here thou art!” - -The two girls encountered each other in the dusk. Rosario threw her arms -around the truant. “How cold thou art!” she said. “Hast thou seen a -ghost here alone? Bless me! one would think the General Ramirez had -brought the plague with him. My mother has shut herself up, and when I -went to her door to beg her to tell me whether she was ill, she answered -me, ‘The world is all ill. Go dress saints, my child, it is all that is -left to thee!’ What could she have meant? Can it be after all that the -General did not come from Fernando?” - -Rosario stopped to wipe a tear from the corners of her eyes. Evidently -she was more perplexed than dismayed. She was too young to fear the -mischances and mishaps of love. Her words recalled to Chata’s mind the -fate that was decreed to her,—to which she had given no second thought, -in her discovery that she was not the child of those she called father -and mother. Friendless, homeless, nameless,—yes, she reflected bitterly, -that she had _never_ been known by a Christian name,—she felt as though -the solid earth had opened beneath her, and she was clinging desperately -to some tiny twig or bough to prevent herself from being engulfed -forever. She clung hysterically to Rosario, who had begun to laugh -nervously. And so old Don José Maria found them, and querulously bade -them go into the house; nothing but ill fortune would befall maidens who -wandered alone in the dark; did they not know that the Devil stood -always at the elbow of a woman after the sun set? With which second-hand -and scurrilous wisdom the old philosopher ushered them into the dimly -lighted dining-room. Doña Rita was there, and as the girls entered -lifted her eyes, which were heavy with weeping, and for the first time -in her life Chata saw in them aversion,—yes, actual fear and dislike. - -The child sighed deeply, and sat down at a shaded corner. No one noticed -that she ate nothing. The old man was sleepy, Doña Rita was occupied -with Rosario, who grew more and more depressed. From her mother’s very -kindness her daughter foreboded little good from the tidings she could -give her. - - - - - XXIV. - - -For many succeeding days Chata seemed to herself to be struggling to -awaken from a torturing dream. The household was very quiet. Doña Rita -and Rosario went gloomily to work to set the house in order and prepare -for departure; they talked together in low tones, and sometimes one or -the other would sigh in echo to poor old Don José Maria, who was -contemplating a lonely widowhood, though a kindly cousin had consented -to take charge of his domestic affairs,—a kindness which was taken -exceedingly ill by the two elderly servants. It was natural enough that -the atmosphere around her should be charged with gloom, and as natural -that to Chata it should seem a part of the evil dream from which she -longed to emerge. At times she thought desperately that she would rush -to Doña Rita and beg her to tell her all; but she shrank from dispelling -the illusion of her life, from losing the father and mother whom she had -believed her own. Her father!—was it possible he could be other than Don -Rafael? No, no, no! she loved him, he loved her; he was her own, her -very own,—even Rosario did not love and cling to him as she did. And if -by word or deed he was deposed from that relationship who would take his -place? - -The unhappy girl shuddered from head to foot; her very heart seemed to -become ice. Who, if all she had heard was true, could be her father but -this man, General José Ramirez,—the bloody guerilla, the unscrupulous -robber? He had not, it was true, declared so in as many words; it would -kill her to hear them—she would not hear them. And so in a sort of dumb -frenzy she resisted the temptation to disclose what she had heard; and -with a miserable conviction that she was the object of suspicion and -dislike, and feeling herself a hypocrite and impostor, she lived from -day to day, nursing in her heart such repressed misery as perhaps only a -sensitive and uncomprehended child can feel. - -Chata was at the point in life where the intuitions of womanhood begin -to encroach upon the credulity and frankness of immaturity. A year -earlier it is likely she would have gone to Rosario at once with her -surprising discovery; but now she unconsciously felt that she -was—however unwillingly—her rival. She needed no instruction by word or -experience to tell her that Rosario would feel no sympathy with the -stranger who had shared as a sister in the love of father, mother, and -friends, and who it was purposed should be given to the man whom she had -herself won. Strangely enough the remembrance of this only occurred to -Chata at intervals, and simply in connection with Rosario. Her mind was -so engrossed by the sense of desolation and the agonizing fear of the -General Ramirez, that the thought of Ruiz seldom presented itself to -her; and the possibility of his being in any way made to affect her life -seemed so absolutely incredible that even the sight of him brought no -blush to her cheek nor a thrill of interest, either of dislike or latent -kindness, to her bosom. - -The bewildered and suffering girl did not realize that there was any -change in her manner. Sometimes she wondered that she could sleep all -night, that she could laugh, yes even talk, so wildly at times that Don -José Maria sniffed impatiently, and muttered that it was hard an old man -could not take his sorrow in quiet,—as if it was some sort of soothing -potion, which to be healthful must be lingered over. But the truth was -that the dull, heavy, unrefreshing sleep which came to the child took -the place of food to her, besides following naturally upon the physical -exhaustion consequent on incessant thought and movement; her sharp, -penetrating laugh and inconsequent babble were the outbursts of mental -excitement that otherwise must have found vent in passionate cries and -tears. - -Chata, it is true, had suddenly become invested with a new interest to -Doña Rita, who, while events flowed smoothly on, accepted without -question the prevailing opinions and sentiments of those surrounding -her. She had honestly thought she loved her foster daughter as her own, -and that her welfare was as dear to her as that of her own child; but -now, without reasoning on the matter, without a throb of anguish in -contemplating the fate which Ramirez might will for her, she saw in the -girl but a rival who, once knowing them, might well approve and glory in -the designs that threatened the pride and affections of Rosario. - -Doña Rita dared not repeat to her daughter the substance of her -interview with Ramirez; and even had she been at liberty to do so, her -satisfaction in being the possessor of an actual secret would have led -her to assume, as she did now, mild airs of superior wisdom,—which were -perhaps as effectual as words could have been in assuring Rosario that -the opposition which the General Ramirez had urged against his -subaltern’s engagement was more serious than the ordinary interest of a -patron would have induced him to make; and for a week or more her -affectations of despair, her abundant tears and hopeless sighs, were -sufficient to justify her mother’s exaggerated tenderness,—a tenderness -which Chata contrasted bitterly with the indifference that permitted her -own suffering to pass unnoticed. - -The secret fear of Chata’s heart was that she might meet Ramirez, might -even be called upon to speak with him. The thought of either filled her -with a frenzy of dread. Had it been possible she would have fled from -the town. Oh, if she could but have hoped to find her way to the -hacienda alone, even though she dared not make herself known to Doña -Feliz and the administrador! Oh, was it possible that they could be -cold, suspicious, as Doña Rita was? The thought was an impiety, yet it -returned to her again and again, and her dread of meeting Don Rafael -became—from vastly differing causes—almost as strong as that with which -she imagined herself enduring the mocking and triumphant scrutiny of -Ramirez. In her desolation the memory of Chinita rose before her. Oh, to -steal with her into the hut and lean her head upon the breast of that -poor waif, who must in her woman’s consciousness be feeling something of -the misery that day by day was becoming more agonizing and unendurable -to Chata! The similarity of lot so unexpectedly revealed to her seemed -to explain the irresistible attraction which the foundling—who had -apparently been so far removed from her by caste and circumstance—had -always possessed for her. At the thought, a tint of crimson suffused her -neck and face. How could she know but that in the obscurity of Chinita’s -life as the adopted child of a poor gate-keeper, even the foundling had -perhaps less to blush for than the supposed daughter of the -administrador? - -Doña Rita had talked much during the early part of her visit of the -family affairs of the important personages whom her husband served. -Chata had heard the talk with more entertainment than interest; but she -was of a reflecting and acute mind, and she began now to weave theories -and form conclusions which sometimes startled, sometimes horrified her. -Had she but caught the name that had brought the shriek from Doña Rita’s -lips the evening the General Ramirez had talked with her! But without -that clew her speculations were idle, and she tortured herself in vain, -yet with unconscious dissimulation hid her wild and bitter thoughts -beneath an exterior that to the ordinary observer appeared one of -thoughtless rather than feigned and hysterical levity. - -In the fear of meeting the General—though the temptation often came upon -her to fly from the house lest he might enter it—Chata avoided going -into the streets, and but that she feared it might prove a deadly sin -she would even have made an excuse of illness to remain from Mass. But -this might not be, though no temptation of a week-day feast would draw -her forth. And thus it happened that she and Doña Rita were alone when -the General Ramirez for the second time visited the house. - -Rosario by chance had accompanied her grandfather on a visit. She had -gone in the best of spirits; for she had shown Chata a note from Ruiz, -in which he declared that though forbidden to ask for her until in the -course of the revolution he had acquired a competency, or her father -should lose his unjust prejudices against the Church party, he should -ever remain true to her, and should live only in the hope of calling her -his own. For the first time Chata had embraced Rosario with a genuine -sympathy with this love which seemed so true and yet so hopeless, and -had watched her turn the corner leading to the plaza, when she was -suddenly aroused from a melancholy—which was actual repose compared to -the state of excitement that had long possessed her—by the sound of a -quick, imperious knock upon the street door; and glancing down, she saw -the General Ramirez impatiently flicking his boot with the small cane he -carried, and glancing up and down the street as if suspicious rather -than desirous of observation. He had not seen her she was sure. Quick as -thought she ran through the room, and passing through the window pushed -open a door which led to the parapeted flat roof of the back building, -and crouching behind a low brick wall prayed breathlessly to the Virgin -for protection. It was a solitary place, where only a servant came -sometimes to place a tub of water to be heated in the noonday sun, or to -hang some household article for speedy drying. It was not likely, even -were she wanted, they would think to look for her there. She was out of -hearing, away from all the ordinary sounds of the house; no voice could -reach her there,—not even that voice whose accents she could never -forget, which had made her desolate. - -As the time passed on and the stillness grew oppressive, and the -sunbeams, which had at first annoyed and distracted her, stole to the -wall and at last receded altogether, a sense of bitter forlornness and -weariness overcame her; and ceasing from the vain repetitions of _Aves_ -and _Pater nosters_, Chata clasped her hands over her face, and resting -it upon her knees burst into heart-rending sobs. - -Her passion did not continue long; it was perhaps too severe. It was -arrested as by a blow,—by the sudden bang of a heavy door. She lifted -her head and listened. Was it fancy, or did she hear the rattle of -musketry? It was an unfamiliar sound, and yet she recognized it. What -had happened? Was an enemy entering the town? Had the garrison revolted? -Accounts of such events were too frequent to make these conjectures -other than natural even to Chata’s unwarlike mind. She hastily rose, -pushed aside the bolt of the heavy door, and stepping into the corridor -found herself face to face with Doña Rita. - -“Ah, you are here!” that lady exclaimed in a hurried and abstracted -manner, far different from that which she would usually have worn at the -discovery of such a misdemeanor. “I have been seeking you everywhere,—I -could not send a servant. And now something has happened in the street, -and he has rushed away without seeing you,—the Señor General Ramirez, I -mean.” - -“I know whom you mean!” cried Chata. “Oh, my mother, why should I see -him?” Then with wild passion she threw herself at Doña Rita’s feet, and -buried her face in her skirts and the flowing ends of her reboso. “Oh, -tell me that it was not true—what I heard! I was in the garden the other -evening as you talked! Oh, my mother, my mother!” - -Doña Rita looked down at her in startled surprise, but almost instantly -an expression of relief rose to her countenance. “Rise, child, rise!” -she said in a low, not ungentle voice; yet there was an inexpressible -lack of maternal solicitude in it, which struck to the heart of the -suffering child. “Listen; be reasonable; have I not ever been kind to -thee? I do not blame thee even now that thou art forced to repay me so -ill; it is not thy fault.” - -“But you shall not be repaid so ill!” exclaimed Chata. “I will be your -child forever. Oh, it is not possible that he—this strange man, who -frightens me—would dare take me from you?” - -“Bless me, _niña_, you are a strange one! If you but knew it, you have -rare good fortune. A handsome lover and a rich dowry are not to be had -every day for the asking. But you show a proper spirit, and one I should -have expected after the good training you have had. Heaven knows what -would have been the result had you been given to Doña Isabel, and -allowed to run at large like most of the children of Our Blessed Lady. -Yet it was a cruel trick my mother-in-law played me, and Rafael too! -Well, well, it shall be brought home to him some day. Listen! was not -that the sound of cannon? and my child abroad! Ave Maria Sanctissima!” - -“Mother, be not afraid!” said Chata, desperately. “She and my -grandfather will not yet have left Doña Francisca’s, and that you know -is quite away from the plaza or the barracks; they have only to cross -the gardens and be home in a ‘God speed us!’ But as for me, I am in more -fright and misery than if a thousand guns were levelled upon me. Do you -not see, I know only that I am not your child! Who am I? What is to -become of me?” - -“The last seems settled already,” returned Doña Rita, with an accent of -chagrin which was almost spiteful; “and the long and short of it is, -child, that you were sent to Doña Isabel, but that my mother-in-law had -the fancy you would be safer with me; and I, like a tender-hearted -simpleton, did not object to humoring her whim, thinking at the same -time I was doing a person whom I loved a service she would know how to -appreciate,—and now when the time has come for recompense, instead of -gain, comes loss. There is nothing in this world but vexation and -disappointment.” - -“I cannot understand anything of this,” said Chata, with a deep sigh. -She had risen to her feet, and was looking pitifully at Doña Rita, who -walked up and down the corridor, listening to the distant and irregular -firing, and interrupting her discourse with interjections and doubts as -to the safety of her daughter. “But when I see my father, Don Rafael, I -will ask him, or Doña Feliz,—yes, Doña Feliz always loved me.” - -“Ay, but you must ask nothing,” almost screamed Doña Rita, running to -Chata and seizing her by the shoulders. “They will think it was I who -betrayed the secret; they will never forgive me. Oh, I should lead a -dog’s life! You are not old enough to know how cruel an angry husband or -a baffled mother-in-law can be. And poor Rosario—” - -“What can it matter to Rosario?” interrupted Chata. “Were you not -lamenting that her dowry would be so small? Will it not be double now -that I shall not innocently rob her?” - -“Yes, yes,” whispered Doña Rita, eagerly. “The General Ramirez promised -me this very day that when you, Chata, married Ruiz, he would make a -gift to Rosario of all my husband may bestow on you, and that as much -more should be given her on her wedding day, provided that the secret of -your birth be kept. It is useless to ask me his reasons. He gave me -none. I cannot guess them any more than I can surmise why Doña Isabel -would not receive you, and therefore you were thrust into my arms. -Heavens, what a reverberation! the whole house shakes!” - -“It is nothing,” cried Chata, “but the slamming of a door. I hear the -voices of Don José Maria and Rosario. Stay!” she added, grasping Doña -Rita as she was about to run down the stairs. “I warn you that I will -know all the truth. Your poor reasons shall not keep me from demanding -it. Doña Feliz shall not refuse me!” - -“Doña Feliz will do as she wills!” retorted Doña Rita. “But this I tell -you, child, that the moment Ramirez knows that those who once crossed -his plans are warned against him, you will be spirited away. Ramirez has -his own purposes, and is not to be thwarted. He is already angry against -Rafael and Doña Feliz for their attempted and long successful deception. -He is a man of great and mysterious power, and knows not the meaning of -the word forgive; and as sure as you stand there, if you disobey his -commands sent you through me he will separate you at once from your home -and friends, and bring ruin upon those who have cared for you.” - -Doña Rita spoke with that impressive eloquence and fire which upon -occasion seems at the command of every Mexican. She stood with one foot -on the corridor floor, the other upon the stair, which she was about to -descend, and she had turned half-way round, stretching out her hands, -and lifting her dark and anxious eyes to encounter and fix the gaze of -Chata. Below, in the stone entrance-way, stood Rosario, volubly -describing to a servant the dangers she and her grandfather had -encountered. For the moment Doña Rita appeared in Chata’s eyes like some -timorous yet desperate animal standing between her and her young. “My -Rosario, my poor child,” said the mother in a low voice, “is her life to -be blasted by you? Ramirez is in two minds now. One is to resent the -frustration of his will, and be the mortal enemy of those who have -sheltered you; the other to applaud and reward them. Upon your -discretion all depends.” - -“But I shall go mad if I have only this to think upon,” exclaimed Chata. -“Who, who can tell me anything to make this dreadful revelation -endurable, if not Don Rafael or Doña Feliz? Ah, yes, there is—there is -the General.” - -“Surely!” replied Doña Rita. “Yes, my life, I am coming”—to Rosario. -“Yes, Chata, could I have found you to-day, you would have known all. -Ask him what you like—it will please him. Oh, he is most considerate. -Did he not show that by taking me into his confidence? Yes, yes, you are -right; insist upon knowing all from him, and you shall tell me: who -could understand, or sympathize so well? But as you love me and value -the safety of Rafael, not a word to him or Doña Feliz.—Rosario! what an -impatient one! What is there to see? If there is commotion in the -street, keep back from the windows. Ay, who would have thought the -troops would pass this way? God save us, we shall be killed! the whole -town will be destroyed! The street is alive with soldiers. Bar the -doors! close the shutters! Oh, what horror! Is it Comonfort returned? Is -it a _pronunciamiento_? What new alarm is this?” Ejaculating these last -sentences Doña Rita hurried downstairs and rushed from room to room, -directing the bewildered servants and chiding Rosario, who, attracted by -the sound of music and the trampling of men and horses, strove to peep -through a crack in the shutters. - -Chata, standing where she had been left at the head of the stairs, heard -it all as though in a dream. She said over and over to herself, “It is -the General I will ask. Yes, yes, I will have the courage! No word of -mine shall bring danger on my father. Oh, why do I say ‘my father’? Yes, -I will say so; he is mine until he turns me away! Oh, what shall I do? -Oh, Sanctissima Maria, help thy child! May I not say to Don Rafael, -‘Here is thy poor little child; she will be the daughter of no other’? -Oh, I know he would cling to me, fight for me; but that Doña Rita says -would be ruin! Ah, I know the soldier is cruel and false, even if he is -my father; he has been so to me—” She stopped suddenly, as though -blasphemy had escaped her. Though she would not believe in her heart the -testimony which her reason could not disallow, she was struck dumb by -the mere possibility of filial disrespect and with the actual abhorrence -which she felt in her bosom toward the man whom she instinctively -feared. - -As if to flee from her thoughts, she rushed into a room that faced upon -the street, and with an impulse such as leads the desperate man to throw -himself into a vortex of seething water, or into the thickest of battle, -as her ear caught the sounds of commotion, she threw open the shutters -and stepped out upon the balcony. - -A scene of confusion met her eye, in which men on horseback and on foot -seemed mingled indiscriminately, each individual struggling in an -attempt to secure a personal advantage. Ranks were broken and scattered. -Men and officers alike were for the most part un-uniformed, and to the -uninitiated it was impossible to distinguish the adherents of one party -from those of another, save by the wild cries of “_Religion y Fueros!_ -Long live Liberty! Long live Juarez!” - -The name of Juarez had begun to be a familiar one in all ears; and even -though it possessed not the magic of later years, the voices that -uttered it thrilled with an intensity of purpose which seemed to infuse -the word with life,—to make it a watchword for great and noble -aspirations and deeds, not the mere echo of a name, a party cry to be -shouted with frenzy to-day and execrated to-morrow. - -It was impossible to tell what chance had forced the combatants upon -that straggling highway. The struggle had begun at the barracks, when a -party of horse had surprised the garrison, pouncing upon it from the -hills like hawks upon their prey, and by the sheer force of surprise, -rather than any superiority of numbers or courage, throwing it into a -confusion which in spite of the efforts of the young officers speedily -resulted in a panic. The soldiers who had been drilling before the town -prison,—which had done duty as a fort,—after a feeble and confused -attempt to defend its doors, had been driven into the plaza; and when -Ramirez reached this, it was to find his own guns turned upon him. His -servant had been leading his charger up and down the street, awaiting -him; and catching a glimpse of his master as he hurried past an alley in -which the groom had taken refuge, he called in mingled devotion and -affright,— - -“For God’s sake, Señor! here is the black. Mount him for your life! -another moment and we should have been discovered! Everybody knows -Choolooke, and my life would not have been worth a cent had they caught -sight of him. My faith, I like not these surprises! This way, Señor! -Around by the church there is an alley unguarded. They are fighting like -ten thousand devils in the plaza. It is madness to go there!” - -Ramirez sprang into the saddle with a laugh, though his lips were white -and his eyes blazing with rage. It was a new experience to him to be -thus caught napping,—his scouts must have played him false. His horse -snorted and bounded under him. In another moment he was in the midst of -the mêlée, and an electric shock seemed to pass through friends and foes -alike. There were wild shrieks at sight of him. The exultant invaders -echoed with some dismay the name of Ramirez, the battle-cry with which -his followers made an attempt to rally, seizing arms from the hands of -their opponents, or using the pistols which had remained forgotten in -their belts. - -For a few moments the plaza appeared to be a veritable battle-ground, -though there was far more noise and confusion than actual fighting done. -Ramirez knew with infinite rage and shame that he would probably be -forced to yield the town, rather by strategy than superior numbers. It -would have been an actual pleasure to him at the moment to have seen his -followers falling in their blood, rather than flying disarmed,—even -though they should rally later and take a terrible revenge upon the -enemy. For an instant his presence stemmed the current of retreat, but -for an instant only. There had been a secret dissatisfaction in his -ranks, which the sight of the well-known face of a popular leader, -together with panic, rapidly fermented into a _pronunciamiento_; and -even as Ramirez, waving his sword above his head, entered the street of -the Orchards, he was saluted with the shout, “Down with Ramirez! Down -with the Clergy! Long live Juarez! Long live Gonzales!” and through the -dust and smoke he caught sight of Vicente Gonzales, almost -unrecognizable under the grime of the hurried march and the heat of -excitement and success. - -The two were so close together they could have touched each other. One -of those hand-to-hand encounters which the history of Mexico proves were -not infrequent even at that date seemed inevitable, as they turned -toward each other with the fury of personal hatred added to partisan -animosity. - -But at the moment when the two fiery steeds would have clashed together, -a woman threw herself before Ramirez and caught his arm, calling aloud -his name. With that wonderful power of the bridle-hand possessed by the -horsemen of Mexico, Gonzales drew back his charger and gazed full at his -opponent, whom force more potent than a blow seemed to arrest. The crowd -surged in; Ramirez’s horse was forced back. The woman had fallen in the -mêlée; and with a curse upon her the guerilla chieftain was swept onward -in the current of retreat. - -Chata from the balcony had witnessed this incident in the distance. She -shrieked as the woman fell. An officer who was speeding past looked -up,—it was Fernando Ruiz. “Coward!” she involuntarily cried, “to leave -your General!” She realized how impossible, having lost the first moment -of vantage, would be an attempt to control the undisciplined and flying -rabble when even the officers had succumbed to panic; and for the first -time her sympathies woke for Ramirez. - -Yielding to the necessity of the moment the General had put spurs to his -horse. The bullets flew past him as he sped over the highway; yet he -glanced up as he passed the house,—he even drew rein for an instant in -alarmed surprise. - -“Go in! go in!” he cried. “What! wilt thou be killed in mere wantoness? -Go in, I tell thee! Are _both_ to be killed before my eyes to-day?” -Chata sprang through the open window in affright, obedient rather to his -stern yet imploring gesture than to his words. He glanced back, fired a -pistol toward a pair of Liberal soldiers who had rapidly gained upon -him, and without the change of a muscle upon his set face, as one of -them pitched headlong from his plunging steed, continued his flight and -disappeared in the low bushes. - -With horror Chata watched the death agony of the wounded soldier. His -comrade had not thought it worth while to linger; there might be booty -or sport elsewhere. All the church bells were being rung for the victory -by this time. The half hour’s fight was over; the fort had been taken, -the garrison routed, a _pronunciamiento_ successful; the town had -changed its politics. A few dead men were lying in the streets, a few -wounded were bathing or plastering their bleeding heads or limbs; the -closed houses were opening again; the street merchants were setting -forth their wares; and one of the thousand phases of the revolution had -passed. - -The next day the Liberal soldiers were lounging about the streets; the -boys were shouting, “Long live Gonzales!” as they went by, as they had -shouted before, “Long live Ramirez!” A tranquil gayety pervaded the -place. No one would have known its peace had ever been disturbed. - -So lovely was the afternoon, and the distant sounds of the band playing -in the plaza were so inspiring, that Doña Rita and her two charges -sallied forth to visit the convent. They had often been there before. -Rosario thought it dull to wait while her mother chatted at the grating -with the soft-voiced nuns, but Chata watched them with awe. There was -one whose pale face used to peer out wistfully through the -semi-darkness; her voice and her large dark eyes, it seemed to Chata, -were always softened by tears. She longed to touch the white hand which -she sometimes saw raised to the sensitive lips, as if to check some -ill-considered word. - -Upon this day some rays of light piercing the barred window of the -corridor rendered the features of the nun unusually distinct. A sense of -bewilderment stole over Chata as she gazed upon them. Where had she seen -them before? Who was this Sister Veronica? - -The short time allowed for the interview expired; the attendant nun gave -her hand to Doña Rita to kiss in token of dismissal, and turned away. As -the Sister Veronica extended her hand in turn, Doña Rita caught it -eagerly: “Forgive me! Forgive me! Oh, I had thought so ill of you,” she -said earnestly; “yet to think ill of you seemed to make my own life -noble. Forgive me, Señorita Herlinda, that I ever thought you anything -but a true and spotless saint!” - -The eyes of the nun opened wide. “Forgive, forgive? I have nothing to -forgive; why should not you—ay, all the world—condemn me?” she whispered -hoarsely. “Oh, Rita, that face! that face!” - -At that instant the slide was drawn and the white face and eager eyes of -the nun disappeared. - -Chata turned to look behind her where the nun had apparently directed -her gaze. A woman was crouching on the door-sill. She was not old, -though over her wonderful Spanish beauty some power of devastation -seemed to have swept. She was carelessly but richly dressed, the -disorder of her person seemingly according with that of her -manner,—perhaps of her intellect; for though evidently a lady by birth, -she lay in the sun, her head uncovered, her shawl thrown back from her -shoulders, her hair, which was of a peculiar reddish brown, half -uncoiled, twining like little serpents around her throat. - -She glanced carelessly up as Doña Rita and the young girls passed her. -Chata saw with surprise that one side of her face was bruised, and there -was a deep scratch on her arm. Where had she seen before the glint of -that shining hair? It flashed over her in a moment. This was the woman -who had thrown herself upon Ramirez! - -Chata involuntarily paused, but Doña Rita caught her hand and drew her -away. She had motioned Rosario on before. Her very garments had rustled -with disdain as she passed the prostrate woman. - -“Such as these one can at least be certain of,” she said sententiously. -It was not a pleasant thing to own one’s self mistaken. Chata detected -chagrin in the tone of her voice: was she piqued that she had misjudged -Sister Veronica? Then she remembered with a start what the new interest -of the moment had driven from her mind,—the name by which her mother had -addressed the nun: it was of the Señorita Herlinda that her mother had -asked pardon! - -A feeling of awe crept over her. She had seen Doña Isabel’s beautiful -and sainted daughter, around whose name hung so much romance and -mystery. And oh the sadness of that face! the wistfulness of those eyes! -the appealing agony of that voice! - -When they reached the house the door was ajar; there was a mild -excitement within. A familiar voice saluted their ears. Doña Rita -clutched Chata’s arm and whispered, “Not a word, I command thee!” and -with a glance of mingled entreaty and menace followed Rosario to greet -Don Rafael with exclamations of welcome and delight. - -Chata took with icy fingers the hand he extended at sight of her and -bent over it with tears and kisses. “My father, my own father!” she -whispered. Even had she been at liberty to do so, she would not for the -world have broken the spell of those words. - -“My patron saint!” cried Don Rafael, regarding her with puzzled -fondness, “what has come to the child?” He caught her on his arm and -held her from him. Her eyelids lowered, her color rose beneath his gaze. -Presently he released her and turned away. He had not kissed her. Had he -forgotten? Had some new, deep feeling withheld him? Chata felt cold and -faint; he too had muttered under his breath, “That face! that face!” and -_he_ had spoken those words of _her_. - - - - - XXV. - - -For many days following the unexpected event which closed the feast of -Juana’s marriage, an old proverb went the rounds of the gossips of Tres -Hermanos: “She who would handle the wild-cat should wear steel gloves.” -Doña Isabel had heard it perhaps, though it was not likely to reach her -ears then: and assuredly she had reason to remember it. - -Perhaps when Chinita crossed the court and followed Doña Isabel upstairs -to her own room, dazzling visions flitted before her of being clasped in -the embrace of her patroness, and being called by the name which to her -was sovereign. But nothing of the sort occurred. Doña Isabel threw -herself into a chair as if exhausted, and bent her face upon her hands, -leaving the child standing so long regarding her in silence that at -length her impatient spirit rose in rebellion, and she said, “The Señora -surely brought me here for something more than to stand like a drowsy -hen waiting for morning.” - -Doña Isabel raised her head at these words, which though impatient did -not strike her as impertinent,—she was too well acquainted with the -characteristic speech of her inferiors, rich in quaint phrases and -figures drawn from familiar objects,—and regarding the girl with that -curious mixture of admiration and repulsion which never entirely -disappeared, she replied,— - -“Thou art a proud child. Humility would better become thee. Hast thou no -other name than Chinita, which I hear all call thee?” - -“I was baptized like any other Christian,” cried Chinita, indignantly. -“And as for surname,” she added recklessly, “if I am not Garcia, you -Señora, will tell me!” - -Doña Isabel’s lips compressed; no effort of her will could prevent the -falling of her eyelids,—an actual fear of the girl seized her; yet she -was fascinated. She said not a word, and presently Chinita began to -laugh in a low, triumphant tone, which was to Doña Isabel like the -mocking of a thousand devils. - -“Hush, hush!” she said violently at length. “You distract, you madden -me!” - -She caught up a candle, took the girl’s hand and drew her impetuously -into the corridor. She tried several doors, and opened the first that -yielded. It was not until they stood within the room that Doña Isabel -knew it was that (long deserted, half unconsciously avoided ) of -Herlinda. She started, and clasped her hand over her heart. Then as if -scorning her weakness, pointed to the bed, and without a word turned -from the room. - -With a sense of wild exultation Chinita saw she was to sleep in a bed, -like a woman of quality; in the very bed of the daughter, whose name, -like that of a saint, was spoken with bated breath by the vulgar, and -was perhaps too sacred for utterance by those who had loved her. - -The little structure of brass, with its mattresses and pillows, its -linen and lace, was unpretentious enough, but Chinita walked around it -and eyed it almost in awe, as if it had been the throne of a princess. -The candle was beginning to flicker in its socket when she at last lay -down, adjusting her head to the unaccustomed pressure of the pillows -with some difficulty, saying to herself with an impatient smile, “What a -poor creature I am! Even the things I have longed for hurt more than -please me to learn to use. But there must be still greater things to -conform to, and I shall do it. Oh, yes, Sanchita thought she could ride -in a coach, and be taken for a lady as well as another; and I who was -born a lady must forget I have been ever a Sanchita. It should not be -hard!” - -Chinita had slept far better upon the preceding night upon a sheepskin. -Her excitement and the unusual comfort of the bed kept her wakeful; and -at early dawn she was up, peeping into the wardrobe, where long-disused -dresses and other garments were hanging. She took down one of bright -silk and put it on, and thought how exactly it fitted her. She could -scarcely see herself in the dim mirror, and she went to the door to open -it for the admission of more light, and with a momentary fright found -herself a prisoner. She decided in a moment that Doña Isabel had no -intention of detaining her beyond the sleeping hours, yet a feverish -impulse seized her to escape at once. That any one should hold her at a -moment’s disadvantage was intolerable to her. Without thinking of the -dress she had on, she glanced around her eagerly for means of egress. -The window was barred, but there was a door that opened into an -adjoining chamber, into which she passed hastily, finding the door that -opened on the corridor actually ajar. As her way was open, she was in no -hurry to depart, but stood balancing herself on one foot, holding by one -hand to the door-post, and with the other pushing back her hair that she -might see clearly into the court. - -Not a creature was astir; the very bird that was in a cage hanging near -her stood silently on his perch, with his head on one side, gazing -through the bars as if in pensive wonderment at the silence. - -Chinita had a feeling that the world had been transformed with her; she -was half terrified, yet amused, and longed for some one to speak to. -Could she speak the old words, the accustomed sounds? Was she indeed -Chinita and not another? Had Rosario or Chata been under the same roof, -she would have been tempted to run to them at once with the query; but -there was no one who would know what she meant if she put such a -question to them. They would only laugh and stare and pass on. Ah, there -was one who could not pass on! At a bound she was on the stairs, and in -a minute stood at the door of the stranger’s room. It was open; he liked -the air. Early as it was, Selsa had left him; so without let of -hindrance Chinita seated herself at the foot of the bed, and with -expressive pantomime began to inquire into the state of the wounded -shoulder. - -The young man looked at her in amaze. This was the strangest of the -strange visitors he had had. At first he did not recognize her in the -incongruous dress; but a glance at the elfin face and the mop of curls -recalled to his mind the name Chinita, and he held out his hand with a -gesture of welcome and surprise, and even found words in his meagre -stock of Spanish to ask her where she had been. - -“I have been in my home,” she answered with a great show of dignity. “Do -you not see, I am a lady, a grand lady?” - -She had risen and spread out the silken dress with her hands. The young -man caught one of the locks of her hair, and pulled it teasingly, “_No -comprendo_, I don’t understand. Tell me where is your mother? Where is -your _padre_?” - -Such a mixture of languages should have been unintelligible, but Chinita -understood very well, and with a sudden prompting of the spirit of -mischief which was never far from her, replied, “_Padre mio muerto! -Americano guero, como Ud.! Oh, si Americano!_” - -“What!” cried the young man in English, “Your father dead! An American? -Fair like me?” He had clutched the lock of hair so tightly, as he rose -in his bed in his excitement, that her head was quite near him. “Are you -quite sure? Can it be possible?” adding, with sudden remembrance that -intelligent though she was it was impossible she should understand his -foreign tongue, and angry as he saw her at his vehemence, it was -unlikely she should care to divine his meaning, “_Niña bonita_, pretty -child, pardon me! Your father an _Americano_? Well, that is wonderful! I -_Americano_,—I, Ashley Ward. _Pardona mi!_” - -Chinita was not to be at once appeased; but she saw with inward delight -that he was much impressed by her claim jestingly set forth to American -parentage, and there was something in the sound of his name that -recalled to her mind the man who had been murdered so many years ago. -She began with a thousand gestures, which made somewhat intelligible her -voluble Spanish, to give an account of him. The young man listened with -intense excitement, anathematizing his ignorance of the language in -which she spoke, yet convinced that chance had led him to the very spot -which he had had it in his mind to seek. In the interest of her -narration, Chinita forgot the assertion she had made; but her listener -more than once supposed that she alluded to it, and looked intently upon -her face to catch a glimpse of some expression that should remind him -even of the race to which the man of whom she spoke had belonged. But -there was nothing. The features, expression, color, were those of a -Mexican of mixed Spanish and Indian types, with nothing individual other -than a weird beauty and vivacity, and the peculiar hair which had -suggested the name that even Doña Isabel did not seek to disassociate -from her. For at the moment when the interest of her narrative was at -its height, and Ashley Ward had risen on his pillows and was following -her every gesture with mute and rapt attention, the lady of the mansion -entered, calling breathlessly, “Chinita! Chinita!” suddenly arresting -her steps, as she caught the concluding words: “And so he was killed! -And they say it was not a man, but the Devil who did it. But for my part -I don’t believe it, for the ghost of the American can be seen under the -tree or at the old reduction-works any night; and it’s not likely Señor -Satan would give so much liberty to a soul he seemed so anxious to get.” - -Chinita had finished her sentence with a certain defiance, for she felt -guilty before Doña Isabel,—not so much for being found in the room of -the wounded guest, as because of her borrowed attire. But Doña Isabel -did not seem to notice that. “Thou art wrong to come here,” she said; -“thou art wrong to talk like a scullery-maid of things thou dost not -understand. What did I hear thee say of an American as I came in?” - -“Did I say American?” retorted Chinita with a laugh at the thought of -the jest she had made, for the idea of falsehood did not occur to her. -“Ah, yes! I told him the American was my father! He would have believed -me even had I said Señor San Gabriel. Oh, it is a grand diversion to see -his eyes open with wonder! Selsa says he is dumb and deaf and -understands nothing, but there is not a word I say that he does not -understand quickly enough; and he knows—” But she ceased suddenly, for -Doña Isabel was deadly white. She had turned to the American almost -fiercely, and demanded hoarsely, “What has this child told you? What -tale has she poured into your ears, wild, improbable,—the dreams of a -child, filled with the superstitious tales of the common people? What -have you heard? What have you believed?” - -Ashley Ward looked at her in some surprise at her vehemence. Her -gestures did not translate to him the purport of words which had not -even a familiar sound. After a moment he shook his head, and said -slowly: “_No comprendo!_ I do not understand Spanish.” - -Doña Isabel breathed freely; her rigid face relaxed; she almost smiled. -“Foolish child,” she said to Chinita; “he does not understand our -language. Come, thou shalt have chocolate with me. I am not angry, -though thou art a runaway.” - -Chinita seldom afterward found Doña Isabel so gracious when she had -committed a fault; but she discovered at night, when she was left in her -room alone, that that particular escapade was not to be repeated. The -door which led to the adjoining room was locked, as well as that which -opened upon the corridor. She shook the bars of the window in impotent -rage. She opened her mouth to scream, to wake the echoes with the name -of Pedro, but at a second thought refrained, and went and lay quietly -down like a baffled animal reserving its strength for the time when its -prey should be near. She did not sleep. She had done nothing to tire -her, and also she had dropped into slumber more than once during the day -in the silence of Doña Isabel’s room, where she had sat watching her, as -she opened drawers and boxes, and as if by stealth moved various -articles to a large trunk, turning from it with affected carelessness -when Doña Feliz or any servant entered. - -Chinita was living over again in her mind the long monotonous day, -feeling as if a thunder-clap or some convulsion of Nature must break -upon the feverish stillness, when she heard a tap at her window. The -sash was already raised, but she sprang noiselessly from the bed and -across the floor, and thrust her hand through the bars, for she divined -that Pedro had called her. - -“It is but for a moment, _niña_,” he whispered, almost humbly, as he -kissed her hand. “But tell me, art thou happy; art thou content?” - -“Why should I not be happy?” she asked. “I have worn a silk gown all day -long, and have eaten and drunk things so dainty a humming-bird might sip -them; and Doña Isabel has dared not say no to me,—though she does not -love me, Pedro, and I love not her.” - -“Then thou wilt come again to poor Pedro, who does love thee?” queried -the gatekeeper in a tremulous and doubting voice. - -She withdrew her hand, tossing her head scornfully. “No,” she said. “You -know how the black cat strayed once into the hut, and though Florencia -drove him away, and would strike and frighten him if he stole as much as -a morsel of dried beef, he would come back and curl himself under the -bench, and lie there upon the cold floor, though he might have gone to -the granaries and had his fill of fat mice, and plenty of straw to lie -on. Well, Pedro, I am the black cat, and I will stay in Doña Isabel’s -house because it is my humor, and I cannot tell why, and there is an end -of it.” - -Pedro sighed; but presently he said in his slow way, “Well, well! God is -God,—may he care for thee! Pedro can be of no more use to thee; the -guitar that doesn’t accord with the voice is best hung upon the wall. -Farewell, Chinita; God grant thee so much good that thou needst not -remember thy old friends.” - -Chinita laughed. “Thou art vexed, Pedro; but I love thee, and I would -love thee more if thou wouldst tell me the name of my father or my -mother.” Pedro shook his head. “Oh, I am sure thou dost not know; thou -couldst not have kept a secret all these years!” She looked at him -sharply, but he was not the man to begin unwary defences, which might to -a keen eye expose the weakest spots in his armor. He stood for some -moments quite silent. Chinita saw by the moonlight that his face had -lines upon it she had never seen before. Her conscience smote her, yet -she could not say she was sorry for the fate which had parted them,—for -it did not occur to her any more than to him that he might question the -act of Doña Isabel, and refuse to yield the child he had sheltered from -its birth. - -“What secret should the tool have?” he asked at length bitterly. “It is -taken up and laid by as the master wills. Years ago I used to think I -was a man, but since then I have been but a dog to watch and to guard; -but the watch is over, and the dog may be a man again. That would please -you, would it not? There is better work than to sit at a gate and see -the soldiers come and go, and never hear so much as the echo of a shot; -or as much as know why there is a smell of blood always in the air, and -men are dragged away to death. Gonzales told me the struggle is for -liberty; I can do no more for you, and I will go and see. Who knows what -I may find beyond there? Who knows what news I may bring to you?” - -The face usually so stoical in its expression was lighted as if by an -inward fire. For the first time Chinita knew that this man too had his -ambitions, the stronger that they had been repressed for years. Would he -join the next band of soldiers or bandits that came that way? The -thought struck her comically, like a touch of the mock heroic; yet it -thrilled her. She would have liked to be a soldier herself. She would -have chosen to be a boy to go with him; and yet she was glad they were -to part, if that indeed was his meaning,—that her foster father would no -longer sit at the gate. - -He had touched her hand and bent to kiss it humbly, as he might have -saluted Doña Isabel herself. Then he thrust a long narrow package -through the bars, muttered softly, “_Adios_” and stole noiselessly away. - -Though Chinita saw him at his old place on the morrow, she understood -that an eternal farewell had been made to their old relations and their -old life. All that remained of them was contained in the package of -trinkets he had brought her,—the coral beads, the few irregular pearls, -the many-hued reboso, and the ribbons she had prized and which in his -simplicity he had thought she would regret. Indeed, she had recognized -them with a thrill of delight; nothing half so bright or costly had been -offered her in the new life she had imagined would be so rich and -brilliant. Yet she clung to it as hers of right, the more firmly after -turning over and over, again and again, the dainty swaddling clothes, -which she had never seen before, but which she knew Pedro had yielded to -her as the sole possessions with which she had come to him,—possessions -useless in themselves, but invaluable to her as proofs that she came -from no plebeian stock. She wondered if her mother had arrayed her in -them to cast her out,—and though she was of no gentle mould, her mind -revolted from the thought. Then, had her father disowned her; or had an -enemy filched her from her cradle, and unwilling to be guilty of her -blood, left her in the first hands he had encountered? She ran over in -her mind all the tales she had heard of mysterious disappearances,—and -they were not a few,—but none would fit the case; and surely a -hue-and-cry would have been made at the abduction of a rich man’s -infant. - -Chinita wrapped up the clothes and hid them away in impatient despair. -Once she thought of taking them to Doña Isabel; but what would be gained -by that? That her protectress knew the secret of her birth she was -convinced, not by any course of reasoning, but by the simple fact that -she had assumed the charge of her as her right. The girl did not know -how baseless are apt to be the caprices of a great lady. - -The days passed wearily to the eager child. They would have been -intolerable—for she was always alone or with Doña Isabel, who gave her -no certain status as equal or inferior, and with whom she was feverishly -defiant, or seized with sudden tremors of awe or actual fear—but that -she knew Don Rafael had gone to bring his family home. She longed to -pour her secret thoughts into the ears of Chata, to show the infant -clothes and hear her comments and suggestions. It appeared to her that -Chata would certainly penetrate the gloom, and in her sweet simplicity -throw some light upon the mystery which enveloped her. Besides, the -wilful girl exulted in the anticipation of dazzling the eyes of Rosario -and Doña Rita by her connection with Doña Isabel. She was shrewd enough -to see it had greatly increased her importance in the estimation of the -servants and employees. Even Don Rafael, before he went away, had seized -an opportunity to ask her whether she was content, and afterward had -never failed to bow to her with grave politeness when they met. - -Once a strange thought had been set in the child’s mind: it returned and -vexed her again and again. Doña Feliz had come into the room when in an -unusual mood of devotion Chinita had knelt to pray before the image of -the Virgin, before which, though she did not know it, had been poured -forth so many bitter cries. Feliz started as she saw her, and Chinita -rose to her feet. - -“Do not rise,” said Doña Feliz; “learn, child, to pray. Many amens must -perforce reach Heaven; it is well to begin thy task young.” - -“What task?” Chinita queried. “I shall have something more to do than to -pray all my life. That is for saints and nuns; and even Pedro would not -take me for a saint.” - -“But thou couldst still be a nun,” said Doña Feliz, with a peculiar -smile; “and why shouldst thou not be?” - -“Why not?” ejaculated Chinita. “Because I will not!” Then seized with a -sudden terror, she cried, “Is that why Doña Isabel has taken me from -Pedro? Is it to shut me up to pray for her and the wicked brother she -loved so much? Selsa told me she had set her own daughter to free his -soul from purgatory, and is not that enough? I’ll not do it. My knees -ache when I kneel; I yawn, I fall asleep. I cannot bear to be forever in -one place. It is to go away, to see strange sights, to wear silk and -lace every day, as the _niña_ Herlinda must have done,—see, here are -some of her dresses still,—it is for this, and because I was born for -such things, that I stay with Doña Isabel; it is not to pray. I care not -to pray, nor sing hymns, nor dress saints. I will go to her and tell her -so!” - -Doña Feliz caught the arm of the excited child. “I am your friend,” she -said. “Speak not a word of what I have said. Perhaps it was a foolish -thought; but many more beautiful than you have entered convents, and -perhaps have been happy.” - -“Is the Señorita Herlinda happy?” asked Chinita, her excitement calmed -by the thought of another. “Selsa told me once,—it was the night -Antonita saw the ghost of the American, when she came back from the -mountain,—Selsa told me a witch had laid a spell upon her the day he was -murdered,—a witch who loved the foreigner; and that the _niña_ Herlinda -drooped and withered and would have died, but that a fever carried away -the evil woman before she could read her into her grave.” - -“The witch!” ejaculated Doña Feliz, mystified. This was a superstition -of which she had heard nothing. “Who was the witch?” - -“How can I tell?” answered Chinita. “Chata knows more of her than I. It -is to her old Selsa told her tales; she is never cross to Chata. But -after the American was killed I know the witch used to read and read and -read strange words to the poor _niña_, and she grew paler and paler, and -more and more sad.” - -“And the witch died?” queried Feliz, thinking of Mademoiselle La Croix. - -“Yes, in a good hour,” answered Chinita, energetically. “But I forgot; -you must know it all, Doña Feliz. Tell me,”—with her old gossiping -habit,—“tell me, did the Señorita love the American? Was it for him she -pined away; or because she was bewitched; or was it because the Señora -would not let her marry the Señor Gonzales, but would send her to the -convent to pray for the wicked Don Leon?“ - -“_Quien sabe?_ Who knows?” answered Doña Feliz, in the non-committal -phrase a Mexican finds so convenient. “It is not for us to chatter of -the Señorita Herlinda. Peace be with her! and have a care how you -mention her name to Doña Isabel.” Her brow contracted as she thought how -many conjectures, how much gossip of which she had known nothing, had -been busy with events she had believed quite passed from remembrance. - - - - - XXVI. - - -Ashley Ward had been, an involuntary though perhaps not entirely an -unwilling guest, at Tres Hermanos a month or more before it dawned upon -him that he was not a perfectly welcome one. Throughout his illness, -which had been prolonged by the peculiar nursing and diet to which he -had been for the first time in his life subjected, he had, though left -almost entirely to the care of Selsa, been provided with luxuries and -delicacies that even his imperfect knowledge of the country and -situation enabled him to know were rare and costly, and most difficult -to obtain. Doña Isabel Garcia was like a princess in her quiet dignity -and in her gifts; and like a princess too, he grew to think, in the -punctiliousness with which, every day, she sent to inquire after his -health, and the infrequency with which she entered to express a hope -that he lacked nothing. She never touched his hand, seldom indeed turned -her eyes upon him when she spoke, and never smiled; and when she left -him he inwardly raged, and vowed he would leave the hacienda on the -morrow, even though he should die from the exertion. But his wound was -slow in healing; the fever had sapped his strength; he was alone, and no -opportunity of securing escort presented itself. He was virtually a -prisoner. And besides, after these periods of vexation he would fall -into a fit of musing, which would end in the resolve never to leave Tres -Hermanos until certain doubts were set at rest, which from day to day -grew more and more perplexing. - -The nurse, Selsa, was more communicative than the Indian peasant woman -is apt to be. She had been employed constantly in and about the great -house in positions of some trust, and had lost that awe of superiors, -which held the mere common people dumb. In a sense, indeed, she felt -herself one of the family, privileged to use gentle insistence with the -sick, even against their aristocratic wills, and to be present, though -eyes and ears were to be as blind and deaf as the walls around her, -while matters of family polity were at least hinted at, if not openly -discussed. She had in fact been to the house of Garcia “the confidential -servant,” without which no Mexican household is complete,—one of those -peculiar beings who however false, cruel, deceitful, and thievish with -the world in general is silent as the grave, devoted even unto death, -true as the lode-star, to the person or family which she serves. - -There was something in the personality of this wrinkled crone, growing -out of these relations, which early impressed the young American; and -gradually he grew to feel that he was face to face with an oracle, had -he but the magic to unseal her lips, as the witch-like Chinita had had -to change her air of vexed though friendly equality into unobtrusive yet -unmistakable deference. Other servants who came and went spoke with some -envy and spite of the sudden elevation of the gatekeeper’s foster-child. -But Selsa, sitting in the doorway of the sick man’s room, combing out -her long black locks,—for that, though she never succeeded in smoothing -them, was her favorite occupation,—would glance askance at Ward and -say,— - -“Be silent! the Señora knows what she does. Go now! she has a heart like -any other Christian. What was to become of the girl, now that Pedro will -be leaving for the wars? Would you have Don ’Guardo think we are -barbarians here, who would leave the innocents to be devoured like lambs -by the coyotes?” - -Don ’Guardo was the name Selsa had evolved from Ward, which she had -perhaps believed to be the foreign contraction of Eduardo; and as -Ashley, with boyish enthusiasm easily acquiring the limited vocabulary -of those around him, began to relieve the monotony of his convalescence -by listening to their conversations, and asking some idle questions, he -found himself answering to the convenient appellation and alluding to -himself by it, until it became as familiar to his ears as his own -baptismal name, and certainly conveyed far more friendliness to him than -the formal Señor Ward, which Don Rafael and his mother rendered with -infinite stumbling over the unattainable W. - -There was a subdued excitement throughout the hacienda upon the day that -Don ’Guardo first appeared at the great gateway. Pedro was sitting there -in the dull, dejected manner suggestive of loss, or waiting, or both; -and it was only when Florencia, with an exclamation, twitched his sleeve -that he looked up. - -“_Maria Sanctissima!_” he stammered, staggering to his feet. Ashley -stood in the dim light in the rear of the deep vestibule, with his hand -on Pepé’s shoulder,—for the boy had been called to attend him,—but with -a sudden faintness he had paused to rest against the stone wall hung -with serpents. Ashley was a handsome youth, but in Pedro’s eyes a -thousand times more startling than the most hideous snake or savage -beast. So had he seen John Ashley stand a hundred times or more, not -pale and trembling, but full of life and joy. Was this his sad ghost, -come with reproachful eyes to haunt him? - -“It is the Señor American,” said Florencia. “My life! how pale he looks! -Go, go, Pepito! bring him hither before the carriage of my Señora drives -in; here it is at the very gate.” - -Pedro instantly recovered his usual stoicism. “Wait, Señor!” he said, -“you are well placed where you are. The carriage can pass and not throw -an atom of dust on you.” And at that moment the feet of the horses and -the rattle of wheels were heard on the stone paving, and the hacienda -carriage was driven rapidly into the courtyard. As it passed, Ashley -caught a glimpse of Doña Isabel—how pale and statuesque!—and beside her -a creature radiant in triumph, who nodded to Pedro as she passed; her -smile seeming to say, “Behold me!” Hers was not an ignoble pride, but -the wild exultation of an eaglet that had been chained to earth, and for -the first time had tried its wings in the empyrean. That morning Doña -Isabel had said, “Chinita, thou shalt go with me;” and though the lady’s -brows had risen a little when with unconscious audacity the girl had -taken the seat beside her, and not that opposite, where Doña Feliz was -wont to sit, she said nothing. “The child is pale,” she thought, “and -needs the air; there is no one to heed that she sits beside me.” - -It would be hard to tell what were the thoughts of Chinita; they were a -sudden delirium after the intense quiet of the semi-imprisonment, which -she had borne with stoical fortitude for the sake of a dimly seen future -of power. In this enforced quiet, day by day, her ambitions were shaping -themselves; the dominant passion of her being was seeking a point from -which she might have advantage over all the narrow field within the -range of her mental vision. As yet her aspirations knew no name; they -were mere vague, impatient longings, or rather impatient spurning of the -old ignoble conditions of life. To ride in a carriage was an -intoxication to her, because the low-born peasant went afoot. She chafed -in a very thraldom of inaction because the high-born toiled not. She -loved the rustle of a gaudy silk, while her hand shrank from the contact -of the stiff and rustling fabric, because such attire was only for the -rich and great. As undefined as had been the joy with which she had -heard she was a Garcia, was still the delight of each fresh conquest -that she made. No eager _virtuoso_ groping in the dark among undescribed -treasures could be more ignorant yet more wildly anticipative of the -glories the daylight should discover than she of what the future should -reveal. - -From where Don ’Guardo and his attendant stood, they could see Doña -Isabel and Chinita as they descended from the carriage. Doña Isabel, -without glancing around, ascended the stairs to her own apartment. -Chinita followed a step or two behind, then turned and paused. Her quick -eye scanned the little group that had gathered in the court. Ashley Ward -himself was startled by the change that had passed over her since he had -seen her last. What had been elfish in her wild abandonment of bearing -had become a subtle grace of manner, which gave piquancy to a hauteur -that counterfeited the dignity of inherent nobleness. “The gypsy has -borrowed the air of a queen!” was the thought of the American. He felt -Pepé quiver beneath his hand, and looking at him saw a sullen fire in -his dark, slumberous eyes, though his lips were white and his dusky face -ashen as if a chill had seized him. The girl had overlooked him and all -the plebeian crowd, and her eyes rested in a triumphant challenge on -Ashley. She smiled, and a ray of sunlight darted down and reddened the -crisp and straggling tendrils of her hair. The smile or the sunlight -dazzled him; he leaned heavier on Pepé’s shoulder. She reminded him of a -Medusa idealized, of incarnate passion surrounded by the halo of radiant -youth. - -Ashley was roused by a sudden movement of Pepé, who had for the moment -forgotten his station, and impetuously thrown himself upon a bench in an -attitude of impotent grief and rage; then he sprang to his feet, and -again placed his shoulder under Ashley’s hand. Once more he was the mere -stock and stick; but Ashley had discovered in him the soul and heart of -a man. - -“Poor fool!” he thought, with a sort of anger mingled with his pity; -“here is a touch of the tragic in this little comedy, which the wily -little peasant is inspired to play so daintily. She appears to have -bewitched me with the rest; I can’t keep the thought of her, or rather -of her words, out of my head,—and yet I have only a word to build a -whole fabric of theory upon.” - -These thoughts had passed through his mind in an instant,—the instant in -which Chinita had lightly run up the stone steps after Doña Isabel, and -in which Ashley and Pepé had reached the broad gateway of the hacienda. -Ashley sank upon the stone bench where Pedro was wont to sit, and Pepé -leaned sullenly against the rough wall. Both looked in silence over the -village, across the fields, the narrow line of cottonwood trees and -yellow mud which marked the bed of a torrent in the rainy season and a -waste of desolation in the long drought, and onward still to the gray -and barren mountains whose distant peaks of purple pierced the deep blue -of the cloudless sky. The scene to Pepé was as old as his years, too -familiar to distract for a moment his tortured mind; but Ashley beheld -it in a sort of rapture. Perhaps any glimpse of the outer world would -have charmed him after his unwonted imprisonment; but the fertility of -the valley, this gem set in the broad expanse of bare and sterile -Mexico, was a revelation to him of that wonderful productiveness and -beauty which in his journeyings he had often heard of but had never -encountered, until at last he had believed that the horrors of war, in -its years of duration, had swept over the land and blasted it. But here -was one spot at least that had escaped,—such a spot as he had pictured -for months, and sought in vain. - -For a time he gazed upon it in simple admiration, then at first almost -unconsciously began to look about him for certain landmarks. Yes, here -at his back was the great pile of buildings; here on the sandy slope in -front, the village of adobe thatched with knife-grass; there along the -line of the watercourse, the few straggling huts of the miners and -laborers; there away to the right, the low walls of the reduction-works -with its tall brick chimney, and in its rear the gaping cleft of the -mountain which marked the entrance to the mine. All now was silent and -deserted; yet for a moment he seemed to look upon it with other eyes, -and to see the trains of laden mules filing in and out of the wide -gateways, and to trace the black smoke rising in a column to the -cloudless sky. “This must be the place!” he inwardly exclaimed; and -drawing from his breast-pocket a flat case of papers, he selected from -them a torn and yellow letter, and read it slowly over, ever and anon -raising his eyes to identify some point in the description, which a hand -as young, more firm, more resolute than his own, had in an hour of -leisure so accurately written years before. The date of the missive was -gone, and with it the name of this new place in which the writer seemed -to have found an earthly paradise,—“not wanting,” as he said at the -close of the letter, “an Eve to be at once the gem of this perfect -setting, and the inaccessible star to which poor mortals may raise -longing eyes, but may never hope to win.” - -Ashley smiled as he read the words. Who could this divinity have been? -But for other letters that had been put into his hands he would have -thought the paragraph mere bathos, boyish gush, and sentiment; but it -was a prelude to what might prove a strange and fateful series of -events. Somewhere here his cousin had years ago lived and loved and been -done to death; and his mission was to trace the sequence of these -events, and to learn whether or no with John Ashley had passed away all -possible influence upon the fortunes of his own life. - -Until within a few months such questions had never occurred to him. The -John Ashley whom he had dimly remembered had been murdered years before; -and so had ended an adventurous career, which had been his own choice, -or perhaps his evil destiny. To Ward, as to others, that had been the -sum and substance of the tragedy which had thrown a gloom for a time -over all the family, and had stricken a proud mother to the heart. She -had suffered years in silence, the name of her wayward son never passing -her lips; her young daughter had grown up with no knowledge of her -brother but his name. It was she who after the mother’s death had found -these letters, and entreated her cousin to seek the fatal spot of John -Ashley’s death,—surely there must be somewhere records that would give -the exact location,—and to make inquiries for the wife, and for the -possible child, of whom he wrote in his last short letter, full of -passionate appeal to his mother in behalf of the young creature who for -him had forfeited the confidence, perhaps the love, of her own. -“Herlinda! Herlinda! Herlinda!” was the burden of the letter. “The name -rings in my ears,” Mary Ashley had said. “How could my mother have been -deaf to it? She thought of those people as barbarous, false, cruel, -treacherous. But what matters that to me, if there is among them one who -has my brother’s blood, or one who loved him?” - -“The marriage laws of those countries are strange,” Ward had ventured to -say. “Perhaps your mother feared complications which could but bring -disgrace and misery.” - -“I do not fear them,” said Mary Ashley, proudly. “It is a wild country -for a woman to go to, but if you will not investigate this matter, I -will brave any inconvenience, any danger, to do so. I cannot live with -this tantalizing fear in my heart.” - -The idea that tormented Mary seemed at best that of a mere possibility -to Ashley,—the possibility of an event which, as the mother had seen, -might if proved bring far more pain than joy, especially at this late -date; yet it worked upon his mind gradually, as it had upon Mary’s -suddenly,—perhaps the more surely because he personally profited by the -supposition that his cousin had died unwed. By his aunt’s will he had -been left the share in her property that John would have inherited, on -condition that neither he nor any legitimate heir should appear to claim -it. - -People shrugged their shoulders and smiled pityingly. “Poor soul, had -she then doubted her son’s death?” - -The news had reached Mrs. Ashley in an irregular way; the war had -supervened, and particulars had been few and far from exact. But later, -through some business house, inquiries had been made and some few books -and almost worthless articles of clothing had been obtained from an -alcalde, who swore they had been the dead man’s sole effects. Certainly -the proofs had been irregular but sufficient. What could one expect from -such a lawless set of uncivilized renegades, who knew nothing of civil -or international law, and were bent on the sole task of exterminating -one another? They smiled at the condition in the will, and pitied the -poor woman who could thus hope against hope. Ashley Ward himself, the -orphan nephew whom his aunt had loved with a jealous devotion, which at -times wearied him by its suspicions and exactions, at first smiled also. -But when Mary brought to him the fragments of three old letters to read, -just as his mind was filled with plans for a career which the possession -of ample wealth and leisure seemed to justify, and which in poverty he -could never have dared aspire to, he grew thoughtful, moody at -times,—then suddenly his own impetuous, generous self again. - -“I will go to Mexico, Mary,” he said, “and bring you word of your -brother’s life there. No doubts shall shake their spectre fingers at me -in my prosperity, nor torment your loving and anxious soul.” - -“Good, true cousin!” was all she answered. She perhaps did not realize -what effect upon the prospects of Ashley the results of this journey -might possibly have; they dawned upon her little by little as the days -went by and no news came of him. - -The daring traveller had been obliged to enter Mexico at some obscure -point. The Liberal government under Juarez was installed at Vera Cruz; -the Conservatives held the City of Mexico; and the length and breadth of -the country was in a state of riot and ferment, torn and devastated by -roving bands who changed their politics as readily as their encampments. -Ashley’s journey through the Republic was like a passage over -smouldering coals between two fires, and constant address and -fearlessness were required to avoid collision with either faction,—his -ignorance of the language and causes of contention perhaps serving him a -good turn in making natural the indifference and absolute impartiality -which he could never so successfully have assumed had his sympathies -been ever so slightly biassed. - -In the distracted state of the country it was almost a hopeless task to -endeavor to trace the movements of an alien who had lived in it but a -short time, and that years before. If any record had been made of the -exact place and mode of John Ashley’s death, it certainly had been -unofficial, and retained no place in the archives of either the Mexican -or American government. - -Ashley Ward was at first appalled by the unexpected difficulties that he -encountered. Inquiries brought to his knowledge the existence of several -haciendas bearing the name of Los Tres Hermanos; and these he -successively visited, reserving to the last that which lay in the most -isolated and mountain-begirt district,—a point which it seemed -impossible could, amid wild and sterile surroundings, offer the panorama -of beauty and fertility which the pen of his cousin had described. He -would perhaps have abandoned his search, at least for that unpropitious -time, but for a re-perusal of the first letter which contained neither -news nor descriptions of importance, but in which was mentioned the fact -that the writer had been offered employment by the family of Garcia. The -owners of the distant hacienda of Tres Hermanos, Ashley Ward discovered, -were called Garcia,—a name too common, however, to be any proof of -identity, yet which seemed to make it worth his while to spend another -month or more of precious time in the search, which in another country, -with records of average exactness, would perhaps have been performed in -one or two days. - -The trip had been made as quickly as the excessively bad state of the -roads at the rainy season would allow, and with but few divergences and -delays; and the boundaries of the estate had been already passed when -the young American and his servant were, in a merry rather than a savage -humor, detained or rather actually captured by the redoubtable Calvo, -who to amuse the leisure that hung rather heavily upon his hands invited -the young American to ride in his company. In his broken but expressive -English, the freebooter uttered such courteous phrases that the young -man was quite unconscious that he was in fact a prisoner, and passed a -not uninteresting day in exchanging political opinions, local and -international, with the dashing chieftain,—who, while apparently -absorbed in the novelty and pleasure of listening to the conversation of -his involuntary guest, was mentally preparing the speech in which he -should convey to him on the morrow the terms of ransom for himself and -servant,—a likely fellow whom Calvo had more than half a mind to add to -the number of his followers. - -But the servant himself had no illusions as to the glory of fighting or -the chances of booty, and sometime during the night in which they were -encamped at the _ranchito_ of El Refugio managed to elude the lax -watchfulness of the troop, who had made a merry meal on freshly killed -lambs and such other modest viands as Doña Isabel Garcia’s trembling -shepherds could furnish, and without so much as a word of warning to the -American had escaped,—bearing with him the small bag of necessaries of -which he had charge, a pair of silver-mounted pistols, and a sum of -money which Ward had been assured would in case of attack and capture be -more secure in the possession of this “loyal and honest man” than in his -own. - -Ashley had barely had time to realize the defection of his servant, to -suspect his actual position as a prisoner in the hands of the courteous -but mercenary and implacable Calvo, and wrathfully to regret the -ignorant trustfulness with which he had divided with the much lauded -servant the risk of transporting his funds, retaining in his own hands -perhaps not enough to meet the rapacious demands of his captors, when -suddenly his meditations were interrupted by cries of confusion, shouts, -the crack of rifles, the whizzing of balls, challenges and defiant -yells, the shrieks of women, and the groans and appeals of the helpless -shepherds,—followed by the sight of huts ablaze, of frightened flocks -wildly bleating and rushing blindly under the very feet of the horses, -which trampled them down, while their keepers, as bewildered as they, -fell victims to the mad zeal and excitement of the opposing troops who -had so unexpectedly met on that isolated spot. - -It was conjectured that the missing servant had in his flight to the -mountains accidentally come upon the soldiers of the Clergy, and to turn -attention from himself had betrayed the proximity of the Liberals. A -hurried march in the early morning hours had proved the truth of the -servant’s information; and the surprise and some advantage in -numbers—for the Captain Alva had spoken with a trace of the usual -exaggeration of the speech of his countrymen, in describing the enemy as -numbering three hundred—turned the chances in favor of the attacking -party; although Calvo at first seemed inclined to contest the matter -obstinately, and Ward, with an involuntary feeling of fealty to his host -(though he had already some inkling of his intentions in regard to -himself) had ranged himself upon his side. He soon saw with indignation, -however, that the defence of the poor villagers held no part in Calvo’s -thoughts. To frustrate some movement of the enemy, he actually ordered -the firing of a hut in which women and children had taken refuge; and it -was while defending the humble spot from Puro and Mocho alike, that Ward -received the wound which disabled him,—that covered with blows from -muskets and swords he fell, and trampled beneath the feet of the now -flying and pursuing soldiers, for a few horrible moments believed -himself doomed to die in a senseless mêlée, in which his only interest -had been to protect the weak, but in which he recognized no inherent -principle of right. Later he saw in those apparently senseless broils -the throes and struggles of an undisciplined and purblind nation toward -the attainment of a dimly seen ideal of justice and freedom, and learned -the truth that these people, who seemed so lightly swayed by the mere -love of adventure, held within their breasts the divine spark that -distinguishes man from the brute,—the deathless fire of patriotism. They -too could suffer, bear imprisonment, famine, even death, for freedom. - -But these were none of Ashley Ward’s reflections as he found himself -laid apart from three or four dead men, who had been hurriedly thrown -together for burial, and after being subjected to a hasty -examination—which resulted in the abstraction of his remaining funds, -his watch and other valuables, and the binding up of his wound—lifted to -the back of a raw-boned troop-horse, and forced to join the march of the -triumphant guerillas. He would have preferred to be left to the care of -the houseless and destitute shepherds; but Captain Alva, whether with -the hope of some ultimate benefit from the capture of the foreigner or -not it is impossible to tell, professed himself horrified at the -barbarity of deserting him,—and, as we have seen later, in apprehension -of his death from exposure to the sun, and the fever that seized him, -availed himself of the opportunity of evading the responsibility of the -death of an American upon his hands, by delivering him to the care of -Doña Isabel Garcia. - -And so, still weak, and destitute of money until he could arrange for a -supply from the City of Mexico, but full of hope, confident that he had -reached his goal, and that a few discreet inquiries would give him the -information he sought, and perhaps allay forever the doubts that -tormented his sensitive conscience, Ashley Ward drew a deep breath of -satisfaction as he sat at the hacienda gate; and in an animated mood, -which supplemented his insufficient Spanish, addressed himself to the -reticent and gloomy Pedro, startling him from his usual stoicism by the -exclamation, “And you, my man, can you tell me of the American your -foster-child spoke of? There is not so much happens here that you can -have forgotten.” - -Had Ashley known anything of the instincts and customs of the genuine -ranchero, he would have begun his investigations in a far more guarded -manner. That a certain Don Juan had met a bloody death there years -before, he already knew; that this had been his cousin, he surmised; -that the gatekeeper should know more of the domestic life of an employee -of the hacienda than the owner herself, or even the administrador, was a -natural conclusion. But had Ashley Ward wished to seal the lips of the -suspicious and astute gatekeeper, he could not have chosen a more -effective manner of accomplishing it. As well touch the horns of a snail -and expect that it would not withdraw into its shell, as to question -this man directly and hope to learn aught of value. - -Pedro looked at the inquirer from under the shadow of his bushy eyebrows -and wide hat; and though his heart bounded, his face became a very mask -of rustic stupidity as he answered, “Your grace has had much fever with -your wound. Heaven and all the saints be thanked that you are young and -healthy, and will soon be as strong as ever.” - -“Um!” ejaculated Ward, for the moment disconcerted. “Yes, I have had -fever, but that has nothing to do with the American. He was a living man -fourteen or fifteen years ago, if there be any truth in what your—young -mistress told me.” He hesitated how to designate the girl, whose status -and relations seemed so strangely undefined. - -Pedro’s eyes for a moment lightened. Pepé laughed ironically, yet he -would have turned like a wild beast on another who had done so. - -“Who speaks much, speaks to his undoing,” quoth Pedro, gruffly, and -turned away; yet he eyed the young American furtively, with an inborn -hostility to his race, an unreasoning belief that in the guise of such -fair tempters lurked the demon who would destroy unwary damsels body and -soul, yet with an almost irresistible desire to unburden his soul of the -weight that had so long oppressed it, to cry aloud, “I can tell you all -you would know,—how the American lived, how he died, how the child he -never saw lives after him. Is it her you seek? And why?” - -Pedro clenched his hands with a gasp. He remembered that the natural -instincts of kindred had changed to bitterness against Herlinda’s child. -She had been cast out, disowned, deserted. Who was this stranger, this -foreigner, that he should be more just, more generous, toward the -doubtful offspring of one who had died years before? How should he even -guess such a child to be in existence? No, he could not guess it. What a -mad thought had darted through his own brain! Pedro actually laughed at -his own perplexed imaginings. What! the secret of Herlinda, which had -been kept so inscrutably, in danger from this idle news-seeker? -Preposterous! yet an odd conceit entered the gatekeeper’s mind: “The -blind man dreamed that he saw, and dreamed what he desired.” This -groping youth had come far to inquire into the fate of a man long -dead,—it must be because it would bring him profit, for it did not for a -moment occur to Pedro that the questions asked were from mere idle -curiosity,—and would it be possible anything should escape him? “Well, -what God wills, the saints themselves cannot hinder.” - -Pedro sat down upon the stone bench opposite, in an affectation of -sullen obstinacy. Ashley was weary and chagrined, and in silence looked -over the landscape with an increasing sense of recognition. Pepé stood -in the same lounging attitude, patiently waiting. One might have thought -him carved of wood against the stone wall, yet of the three men he it -was whose passions were fiercest, whose thoughts like unbridled coursers -followed one another in mad confusion. His mind was full of Chinita! -Chinita! Chinita! her beauty, her insolent grace,—the memory of her -pretty, haughty ways when she had been but a barefoot, ragged peasant -like himself, and the contemplation of the hopeless height to which she -had risen. Never before had he been conscious that he had aspired. Now, -bruised, torn, wounded as if by a fall into hopeless depths, he saw her -image swimming before his disordered vision; he thought of her as a -princess, a goddess, yet he laughed when he heard her named as mistress. - -Such was the mood in which Pepé presently listened to the disconnected -dialogue between Pedro and the guest, who was hampered by a language -strange to him, and by suspicious caution on the part of the gatekeeper. -For the first time in his life, Pepé was struck by a peculiarity in -Pedro with which he had always been acquainted; namely, his -unwillingness to speak of the tragedy, which to other minds had seemed -no more horrible than scores of others that had occurred in the -neighborhood and were common subjects of conversation. As he listened, -Pepé became conscious that Pedro was detracting from the interest of the -tale rather than adding to it; and when the young American at last said -inquiringly, “And the cause of this murder was never known? There was no -woman—” he was startled that Pedro answered not with the old jest, “Was -there ever an evil but that a woman was at the root of it?” but rose and -strode rapidly away. - -“There _was_ a woman,” muttered Ward, looking after him, “and the -gatekeeper knew her. I have found the man who can tell me of Herlinda.” - -He spoke in English, but Pepé the eager listener caught the name -“Herlinda.” Five minutes later, when Ward turned to speak to the youth, -he found him with his hands clasped, stretched out before him, his eyes -staring into vacancy. - -“Idiot!” was the half contemptuous, half pitying comment of the -American. Little guessed he that the conversation that had seemed to -result in so little to him had offered both a suggestion and an -inspiration to the peasant,—the very key to the problem which he had -himself come so far and dared so much to solve. - - - - - XXVII. - - -Upon the following day, Ashley Ward went again to the gateway,—not -merely to breathe the fresh air and enjoy the view, but irresistibly -attracted by the remembrance of the taciturn warder. The more he -reflected upon the emotion the man had shown when his eyes first rested -upon him, a stranger, as he had entered the vestibule; the more he -thought upon the guarded replies to the questions he had asked -concerning the young American who had been there years before,—the more -convinced he became that there had been a mystery which had led to his -kinsman’s death, and that Pedro, if he would, could divulge it. - -Was it possible the man himself was the assassin? The perplexed youth -began to sound Pepé cautiously as to the reputation Pedro had borne. But -the young fellow was absorbed in other matters, of which Ashley rightly -conjectured Chinita was the vital point, and was wandering and curt in -his answers. Yet he seemed to feel that Ashley divined, if he did not -comprehend, his pain, and so attached himself to him and followed him -about, much as might a wounded dog some stranger who had spoken to him -with an accent of pity in his voice. - -So when Ashley went to the gateway, it was Pepé’s arm that aided him, -though with the impatience of a young man he protested against this need -of a crutch, and had actually walked steadily enough across the court, -under the gaze of Doña Feliz and Chinita, who happened to be in the -window; but he had been glad to clutch at Pepé as they entered the -vestibule. The lad was not trembling then, but erect and flushed: -Chinita had smiled upon him as he passed. - -Pedro was standing in the gateway, shading his eyes with his hand, and -gazing toward the cañon which opened behind the reduction-works. He did -not notice Ashley and Pepé, but presently began to mutter: “Yes, it is -they. Don Rafael has had a lucky journey. Go thou, Chinita, and tell -Doña Feliz the master and her daughter-in-law and children will be here -for the noon dinner.” - -Pepé laughed derisively. “You forget, Pedro,” he said; “it is the _niña_ -Chinita, and the Señorita Chinita now; even if she heard, she is scarce -likely to run at your bidding. But are you sure the Señor Administrador -comes there? If so, I will myself go and tell them.” - -“Go then, go!” cried Pedro, impatiently. “I am not blind, though old -usage sometimes misleads me, and I talk like a dotard. Yes, yes. There -comes the carriage down the cañon, and Don Rafael himself on his gray, -and Gabriel and Panchito; I can almost distinguish their very faces.” - -So could Ashley, for the air was brilliantly clear, and the travellers -had yielded to the inspiring influences natural at the sight of home, -and allowed their horses to break into a mad pace, far different from -the methodic gait of ordinary travel. - -Pepé, in spite of repressed excitement, had gone at his usual lounging -and listless pace to inform Doña Feliz of the approach of her son, and a -little group of villagers had assembled around Pedro, when a lithe, -active young figure brushed by them and leaped upon the stone bench at -Ashley’s side. He glanced up, and to his surprise saw Chinita, her hair -flying, her eyes bright with anticipation. Putting her finger upon her -lip as he was about to speak, as if to enjoin silence, she pressed -herself close to the wall. There was a long narrow niche where she -stood, and it received almost her entire figure. No one but Ashley and -Pepé, who came with haste behind her, had noticed her. - -“Hush! hush!” she whispered. “Chata will look for me here,—here where I -used to stand. Ay, Pepé, you were a good lad to warn me in time, so I -could slip away. Doña Isabel will never miss me,—she is at her prayers; -and Doña Feliz is wild with joy that her son comes home again.” - -The excited girl had spoken in the softest of voices, yet Pedro heard -her. But the rest of the gathering crowd were craning their necks and -straining their eyes in the direction in which the approaching -travellers were to be seen. - -Pepé looked up at the ardent and gypsy-like young creature, as though -she were a saint, and Ashley with a glance of genuine admiration and -sympathy. He knew not whom she was thus eager to welcome, but it -thrilled and surprised him that she should manifest such lively -affection. Both the young men instinctively drew near as if to shield -her, and stood one on either side, almost hiding her. - -“That is right; but you will stand away and let her see me when the -carriage drives by,” she whispered, placing a hand on Pepé’s shoulder. -“_Dios mio_, how my heart beats! She will cry with joy when she sees me, -with silk skirts and all so fine. And Doña Rita and the _niña_ -Rosario,—how they will open wide their eyes!” And she broke into a low -laugh, which to Ashley’s ears was too full of a sort of malicious -triumph to be merry. - -The time of waiting seemed long; it was indeed far longer than Chinita -had counted upon. “They will miss me from the house; they will look for -me here!” she whispered again and again in an agony of impatience. - -Strangely enough, the adults of the gaping throng, who were intent on -watching the approach of the travellers, had not noticed her; but three -or four children arrayed themselves in a wondering row, pointing their -fingers at her with ejaculations of “Look! look!” but were checked from -uttering more by Pepé’s warning frowns and Chinita’s own imploring -gestures. - -Ashley was beginning to realize that there must be much that was absurd -in the scene. Surely, never was so strange a background made for a group -of gossiping peasants as this of the eager-eyed and beautiful girl, -leaning from her niche in the massive stone-wall between the two young -men—the one the type of aristocratic refinement and delicacy; the other -of swarthy, ignorant, half-tamed savagery—who served as caryatids, upon -whom she leaned alternately in her excitement, seeming herself to -partake of the nature of each. - -The carriage with its group of outriders now rapidly approached. “Ah! -ah!” exclaimed Chinita, “the horses are plunging at the tree where the -American was murdered. They say the creatures can always see him there, -Señor. Ah, now they have passed; they come gayly, they come straight. It -is not only the Señor Administrador and the servants, there are -strangers too. I am glad! I am happy! I love to see new faces!” - -“Be silent!” whispered Pepé, hurriedly; “all the world will hear if you -sing so loud. _Carrhi!_ the soldier sees you!” - -It was true; though the villagers had been too intent upon welcoming the -new-comers to heed Chinita, and the carriage flashed by so rapidly the -inmates could have caught but a glimpse of color against the cold gray -wall, a stranger in a travel-stained uniform started as his eyes fell -upon her, and checked his horse so suddenly that it reared. - -“The Virgin of our native land!” he muttered in a sort of patriotic and -admiring wonder. “Ah, what a beautiful creature!” he added, as the girl -he had for a moment classed as a saint sprang from her niche to the -bench and thence to the ground, and darted through the crowd to the -inner court,—where by this time the carriage had stopped and its inmates -were descending. - -Ashley sank upon the bench with a sudden access of weariness. Pedro, -oblivious of his vicinity, crouched rather than sat beside him. The -gatekeeper’s nerves doubtless were weak. The carriage that had driven -into the court was the same in which Herlinda Garcia had departed years -before; as it dashed by him he could have sworn he saw her face framed -in the window. He had seen, as had Chinita, the sad and gentle -countenance of Chata. Grief reveals strange likenesses. - -When Chinita reached the carriage door, she found it blocked by the -descending travellers and those who welcomed them. Doña Rita was so slow -in carefully placing her feet from step to step, and paused so often to -answer salutations, that there was ample time for the young officer to -reach the spot and extend a hand to Rosario who followed her. Her -blushes and coy smiles; the air with which she drew back and with which, -with a little shriek, she pulled her dress over her tiny foot lest it -might be seen; the soft glances which she threw from beneath her long -lashes,—formed a pretty piece of by-play, quite intelligible to all -beholders, but for that time certainly quite thrown away upon the -stranger. - -Ten minutes before, to have held for a few brief minutes the tips of -Rosario’s fingers would have been to him ecstasy. Now he was scarcely -conscious that they were within his own, and his eyes were fixed upon -Chinita as she stood breathlessly waiting for Chata. Never in his life, -he thought, had he seen such a face. The changeable yet ever radiant -expression was like the dazzle of warm sunshine through scented leaves; -the shimmer of rebellious hair was a divine halo, though the sparkle of -the dusky eyes declared a daring soul more fit for earthly adventure -than ethereal joys. - -Rosario’s eyes followed his gaze. She had heard the strange tale of Doña -Isabel’s intervention in the fate of the waif. She had wondered whether -the high-born lady could have seen anything in the girl’s face that -attracted her; and that moment more decidedly than ever she answered -“No,” yet realized that here was a face to bewitch men. She tossed her -head and passed on. Doña Feliz stopped her to embrace her, and meanwhile -the two early playmates met. - -“Life of my soul!” cried Chinita. “How I have longed for you! Did you -not see me perched in the niche of the wall? Ay, how Doña Isabel would -frown if she knew!” - -“I saw only the tall, fair man,” answered Chata in a low voice. She was -pale and trembled: “I thought first it was the ghost of the American. Oh -God, what a shock!” - -Chinita laughed merrily. “What! a coward still, and with the old stories -we used to tell still first in your mind? Ah, I have tales to tell now -will be worth your hearing.” She bent low and added in a whisper, “Have -they not told you? I have the place of the Señorita Herlinda now! I have -her room. I think sometimes she must be dead, and I have risen in her -stead. Do I look like a ghost, Chata?” - -“Hush, hush!” entreated Chata. “Oh Chinita, I wish I never had gone -away. Oh, how shall I live now? How can I bear it?” - -At that moment Doña Feliz approached, and evading her proffered embrace -the young girl bent her head on the arm of the woman and burst into -tears. Chinita stood confounded; the light and joyousness died out of -her face; a certain half-savage look of inquiry came over it. She turned -abruptly to the young officer,— - -“What have they done to her?” she demanded. - -“Chinita,” said a cold, impassive voice, “this gentleman is a stranger -to you. It is not seemly that you stand here questioning him;” and with -an imperious wave of her hand, Doña Isabel seemed actually to force the -two apart. - -Almost unconsciously the young man drew back, bowing low, and Chinita -turned to the staircase; yet as she obeyed the movement of Doña Isabel’s -hand a furious rage possessed her. As she stepped upon the first stair, -some demon prompted her to wind her arm around Chata’s neck and raise -her tear-stained face. - -“I am going to the Señorita Herlinda’s room,” she said. “I am there in -her place; and—” here she stopped, laughed, and threw a glance over her -shoulder—“there is the American!” - -Her last words had been prompted by a glimpse of Ashley Ward as he -crossed the court. He caught the appellation, and bowed and smiled. -Chinita ran up the stairs, and Doña Isabel stood rigid with a face like -death. Her eyes were resting however on Chata’s countenance. - -The young girl had shrunk within Doña Feliz’s protecting arm. Had Doña -Isabel turned her eyes upon the woman’s defiant yet apprehensive face, -it might have been a revelation to her; but she looked at Don Rafael. - -“Your daughter has a strange face and strange ways for a ranchero’s -daughter,” she said, with an attempt at irony; but it failed. Her face -worked painfully as she added, “She reminds me of those I would forget. -We have strange fancies as we grow old.” - -A laugh sounded from the window above. She started and looked up, then -dropped her head again and turned slowly away. - -Chata gazed after her awestruck, though she knew not why. Her manner was -so different from that of the proud and haughty dame she had pictured. -Don Rafael looked from Doña Isabel to his mother. Both these women, it -seemed to him, had grown wonderfully aged since they had met, but a -month or so before. There was a subtile antagonism between them—these -two who loved each other, as only such deep intense natures can—which -tore and harried them far more than actual hate could have done. - -“What hast thou, my life?” Doña Feliz whispered to Chata. “Art thou not -happy? Have strange tales been told thee?” and she looked keenly at her -daughter-in-law, who had smiled and courtesied in vain as Doña Isabel -went by. - -“My mother,” said Doña Rita in her softest voice, “the child is weary; -she must rest. Heed not this silly child, Don Fernando. Thank Heaven, -Rosario is not so fanciful!” - -But Don Fernando was not thinking of Rosario, or of Chata either for -that matter, but of how he had slunk away from his chief to prosecute a -love-affair that he had believed no power could make less than a matter -of life or death to him; and how in a moment it had become lighter than -air. The boyish perversity with which he had determined, even at the -risk of offending his patron, to continue his courtship of Rosario -Sanchez, trusting to fate or her father’s generosity to make marriage -with her possible, faded from his mind like a dream, and with it her -image; and in its place rose the arch mocking face of the “little saint -of the Wall.” Proved she angel or demon, he felt that she was henceforth -the genius of his destiny. He was a vain and profligate adventurer; but -all the same the arrow had found his heart, not as a thousand times -before to inflict a passing scratch, but to bury itself in its inmost -core. - -All had taken place in a few short moments. While the horses were being -unharnessed and led away; while the villagers were still crowding around -the carriage, and Doña Rita’s baskets and packages were being lifted -out; while a few words of greeting were exchanged,—emotions and passions -had sprung into being that were to make the seemingly prosaic household -a very vortex of conflicting elements. - -The young American, who thought himself but a looker-on, was also not -unmoved. Like Doña Isabel, he said within himself, “That young girl has -a strange face and strange ways for the daughter of a Mexican. And yet -what know I of Mexicans or their ways? This is a strange atmosphere, and -fills my brain with strange fancies. Perhaps out of them all I shall -evolve some reality. May the Fates grant me again such a chance as I had -to-day of speaking to the wild gypsy Chinita! Nothing has happened here, -I can well believe, that she cannot tell me of. But after the escapade -of to-day, she will hardly escape the vigilance of her duenna again. Ah, -here comes the young soldier—too travel-stained to be as dashing as is -his custom, no doubt. He looks a gay bird with sadly bedraggled -feathers.” - -Pepé apparently approved of him as little, as he passed by to the room -assigned him. The peasant did not cease from lounging against the wall -or bare his head as an inferior should. - -“Insolent barbarian!” muttered Don Fernando, in a revival of his usual -contempt for the peasantry, as the swarthy young fellow scowled at him, -he neither guessed nor cared why. What could such a vagabond have to do -with the Señora Garcia’s _protégée_? He would serve when the time came, -to make one, in the independent troop he, Fernando, would raise: such -worms as he were only fit to serve men. There were wild rumors afloat of -the wonderful fortune of that phœnix Benito Juarez. What if he, Ruiz, -should join his standard? There was a strange fire and exultation in the -young man’s veins. He had been tied to a resistless fate long enough,—he -would break his trammels, and by one daring act free himself forever -from control, from tutelage, from Ramirez. - - - - - XXVIII. - - -“Señor Don Rafael!” cried a hoarse voice at break of day. “Rise, your -grace! for strange things have happened while we have slept! Ay, Señor, -if the demon himself has not carried away Pedro the gatekeeper, who can -tell us how he has gone?” - -“Gone!” echoed the voice of Don Rafael from within. - -“Gone, Señor, and left not even so much as his shadow; yet the doors are -locked, and not even in the postern is there so much as a crack, nor the -key in the lock. The muleteers, who were to be upon the road at -cock-crow, have waited until both they and their beasts are cramped with -standing, and all to no purpose.” - -“Is this true?” exclaimed Don Rafael, presently appearing with a -_serape_ thrown over his shoulders, and shivering in the morning air. -“Ay, man, thou hast a tongue like a woman’s. And Pedro, thou sayest, is -gone?” - -The man drew one hand sharply across the other, as who should say, -“vanished!” though his lips ejaculated, “Gone, Señor; and who is to open -the door now that it is shut? And who could shut the door upon Pedro but -Satan himself?” - -“Who, indeed?” said Don Rafael, gravely. “Think you so bulky a fellow -could creep through the keyhole of the postern and take the key with -him? By good fortune, he brought me the key of the great door as usual, -and here it is. If the Devil hath carried away one gatekeeper on his -shoulders, it is but fair he should send me another; and thou, Felipe, -shall be the man.” - -Felipe stared a moment; then with a transient change of expression which -might be of intelligence, or simply a vague smile at his own good -fortune, extended his hand for the keys; and suddenly mute with the -weight of his unexpected promotion trudged down the stone stairs, across -the silent inner court and the outer one, where by this time the -household servants were exchanging exclamations of wonder and alarm with -the impatient muleteers. Felipe unlocked the wide doors, threw them open -with a clang, sank into Pedro’s place upon the stone bench, and -thereafter reigned in his stead. - -The wonder of Pedro’s disappearance grew greater and ever greater, until -the boy Pepé said sulkily he had been played a shabby trick. Had not he -said to Pedro the night before, when the Señor Don Rafael had told them -that the General Vicente Gonzales was in El Toro, that for a word he -himself would go to him there; and doubtless Pedro had stolen away -alone, like the surly fox that he was. But the saints be praised, the -road was open to one man as well as another. - -“Hush!” said one in a warning tone; “though Pedro may have a fancy for a -cleft head or broken bones, must we all cry for the same? Go to thou -Pepé! thou art scarce old enough to leave the shade of thy mother’s -reboso. Did I not see thee sucking thy thumb but last Saint John’s day?” - -There was a roar of laughter, and though Pepé raged, no one heeded his -wrath; the talk was all of Pedro. That he had gone to be a soldier was -universally believed; that Don Rafael, and not the Devil, had aided his -going was not for a moment thought of. The women crossed themselves, and -the men spat on the floor emphatically,—yet there had been more -mysteries than that in the life of Pedro. - -Florencia, who was distraught at her uncle’s disappearance, and tore her -hair and bewailed herself as a bereaved niece should, found her way to -Chinita to pour out her griefs and fears; although since the change in -the young girl’s position they had by common consent ignored their -former relations,—Florencia, because of the wide social gulf fixed -between the great house and the hovels around it; Chinita, from pure -indifference. She was too full of her new life to think of the old, or -of the persons connected with it. - -It was so early that she was still not fully dressed, and the chocolate -wherewith to break her fast stood untouched upon the table, when the -sound of some one sobbing at the door brought a tone of sorrow into -thoughts which had simply been vexed before. - -Chinita had risen in an ill humor. Doña Rita and Rosario, and even Chata -herself, had failed to show any surprise at her position. True, Don -Rafael had warned them of it; but at least something more than a kindly -indifference might have greeted her,—if only a glance of envy from -Rosario. What wonderful things had they all seen, that they had no -thoughts to spare for her? Bah! Rosario had neither eyes nor thoughts -for any one but the young officer with the red neck-tie. Well, they -should see! But what of Doña Rita,—and Chata too? Why, Chinita hardly -knew her. Was she also thinking but of herself, like the others? That -was a change in Chata, and one that ill-suited her. - -Chinita had slept badly for thinking of these things; and truth to tell, -when her mind was ill at ease the softness of the bed troubled her. She -had dreamed of snakes, of three snakes who had lifted their heads out of -water to hiss at her. Here was the first one. Certainly she had not -dreamed of snakes for nothing. Well, to be sure, here was Florencia, -whom she had almost forgotten, come with some trouble! She felt a little -flutter of gratification, and unconsciously assumed the air of a -_patrona_, as she said,— - -“Ah, is it then Florencia? And what ails thee; and how can I help thee? -What, has Tomasito broken the newest water-jar, or by better fortune his -neck? Or has Terecita choked herself with a dry bean?” - -“God has not desired to do me such favors,” returned Florencia, piously -and with a flood of tears. “No, rather than my children should become -little angels, he prefers that they shall be friendless upon the earth. -_Ay de mi!_ what is a father, what is a husband (and you know the very -driveller of a man I have), what is any one to an uncle who was a -gatekeeper of Tres Hermanos?—a veritable treasure of silver, a spring of -refreshing! Was there ever a time Florencia asked a shilling of Pedro in -vain?” - -At another time Chinita would have laughed at this pious exaggeration; -now it filled her with inexpressible alarm. - -“What! is my god-father dead?” she cried, wringing her hands and for the -moment relapsing into the demonstrative gestures and cries of her -plebeian training. “_Ay Dios_, Florencia, it cannot be! Answer me, -stupid one! Is thy mouth as full as thy eyes that thou canst not -answer?” - -“Is chocolate served to the poor at day-break?” cried Florencia in an -injured tone, and with a glance at the dainty breakfast; and then at an -impatient word from Chinita she explained how Pedro had departed in the -night, though the hacienda doors were locked upon the inside, and -conjectured that if he had not been spirited away by the Devil, he had -gone to join the Liberal General Gonzales,—there could be no other -alternative. She had heard Señor Don Rafael talking to him till late in -the night of how Gonzales had beaten the General Ramirez at El Toro, and -was still there trying to strengthen his forces, while those of the -Clergy had disappeared, no one knew where, but surely to gather men and -means to recover the lost position. - -Chinita’s eyes flashed. She knew nothing of politics, but she thrilled -at the name of Ramirez. She laughed scornfully that Pedro should throw -his puny strength into the force against him. Still she said, “God keep -him;” and jested away Florencia’s fears. - -“Bah! What should happen to my god-father?” she said. “And thou knowest -thou wilt want for nothing. Hark thou! there is nothing to cry for that -thy uncle is gone. Has he not often told us of the dollars he made in -the wars?” - -“I fear me he is likely rather to receive hard blows than hard dollars -now,” answered Florencia, disconsolately,—an expression of expectancy, -however, relieving her doleful countenance, as she added, “Ah, Chinita -of my soul, thou wert ever the kerchief to wipe away my tears.” - -Chinita laughed. “Thou used to say I was a prickly pear to draw tears, -rather than a kerchief to dry them,” she presently said, pushing her -chocolate toward Florencia, and thrusting into her hand the little -twists of bread. - -“There, take them; I would a thousand times rather have a thick cake and -a drink of white gruel. One is not always in the humor for sweets;” and -she tugged viciously at the hair she tried vainly to smooth,—she was -always at feud with it because it was not longer. But at last she -confined it in two short tresses, tying each with a red ribbon; and then -suddenly dropping on her knees before Florencia, placed her hands palm -downward upon the floor, and looking up in the woman’s face with a laugh -exclaimed, as a tinge of red deepened the olive of her complexion, “And -what of the American, Florencia? Is he like him thou sayest the Señorita -Herlinda loved?” - -“Ave Maria Purissima!” cried the startled woman. “The saints forbid that -I should say such a thing of a Garcia, and she dedicated to the -Madonna!” But recovering herself, “Certainly this American is like the -other. Is not one cactus like another that grows on the same mountain? -Should a white-blooded American be like a cavalier of blue-blood, or -like an Indian of the villages? Yet both, one and the other, are we not -Mexicans?” and she uttered the words as one might say, “Are we not -gods?” - -“That is very true,” commented Chinita, gravely; “and yet they are not -frights, these Americans. Why should not the Señorita Herlinda have -loved one if it pleased her? Listen, Florencia; I will tell thee a dream -I had one night. When one’s bed is too soft, one dreams dreams.” - -Florencia looked at the girl with an admiring glance. How amiable she -could be, this Chinita, when she chose. “Little puss! little puss!” she -murmured, giving her the pet name Pedro had used, when in her kittenish -moods one had never known whether she would scratch or fondle one with -soft purrings, begun and ended in a moment. “Little puss! thou wert ever -good to thy Florencia.” - -“Thou art a flatterer!” ejaculated Chinita, half-inclined to withhold -her confidence, yet longing for a listener. “Ay, Florencia, thou knowest -not what it is to sit for hours in the gloom within four walls. Ah, what -thoughts come into one’s head! When I ran about the village, the wind -blew the thoughts about as it did my hair; but now my brains are like -cobwebs, and when a thought touches them it clings like dust, and so -they grow thicker and heavier until my very skull aches;” and she -pressed her head with her hands, and heaved a deep sigh. - -“But to think is not to dream,” said Florencia, in some disappointment, -for she had a child’s love for the marvellous, and did not understand -Chinita’s abstractions,—unstudied and simple though they were. - -“But dreams come from thoughts,” answered Chinita; “and what should I -think of here but of mysteries,—such as why the Señora should keep me -with her, though she loves me not; why she walks the floor and counts -her beads, and when she forgets I am in the room murmurs over and over -the name of Herlinda; why she looks before her sometimes, as you used to -tell me the woman looked who saw the ghost of the American,—and that is -always when she chances to meet this Don ’Guardo whom she will not speak -of, or suffer Doña Feliz to invite to our table, though he stays here so -long. And after I have asked so many things, I set myself to the answer. -Oh, you would wonder at what I say to myself of all these things,—and -then sometimes come dreams to tell me I am right.” - -Florencia looked at the door vaguely,—she was thinking perhaps she had -better go. - -“Yes, yes,” continued Chinita, as if to herself, “I am growing perhaps -like the owl,—I, who in the broad sunlight saw nothing, have discovered -many things here in the dark. Well, well, Florencia, one thought came to -me on a vexed night when I could not sleep. I had been talking to Doña -Feliz that day. I know not why, but I am with Doña Feliz like the young -fox my god-father tamed,—when I touched him with my hand he was pleased, -yet he bristled and longed to bite. Good! we had talked that day. -Yes,—it was of the nuns, and she said the Señora might desire I should -be one; and I was angry, and said I would not be shut up to pray as the -Señorita Herlinda had been; and then Doña Feliz bade me be silent and -ponder what she had said. And after she went away it was not of myself I -thought, but of the Señorita Herlinda; and in the midst of my thoughts I -saw the American pass the court, and Doña Isabel, who was near, turned -herself away, as if an adder had darted upon her.” - -Florencia looked up with a mute inquiry or fascination in her gaze. -Chinita, in a sort of monotone, followed the thread of her thoughts. - -“When I went to sleep at last, I dreamed that I, though still Chinita, -was Herlinda, and that the American who was lying wounded in the room -below came up the stairs, and tapped lightly at my window. I stepped -softly and looked out at him through the grating. Ah, it was this Don -’Guardo, yet so different, as a man is different from his reflection in -a glass; and I did not wonder to see him there. I put my hand out and -touched him, and was happy. And as I stood at the bars,—I myself, and -yet the _niña_ Herlinda,—the man of my dream said, as a husband says to -his wife, ‘Open, my life;’ and when I opened the door he led in by the -hand a little child,—I knew it to be his child, though it had not blue -eyes nor the yellow hair. Well, I stood there, and stood there, and -strove to speak and could not; and the vision of the man and of the -child faded, and the thought that I was still Herlinda faded too, and -the dream was ended.” - -She ceased speaking, and looked at Florencia with a vague yet searching -gaze. - -“By my faith, a strange dream!” murmured Florencia, disquieted. “You -should have lighted a blessed candle when you woke, and passed it before -you three times, saying an _Ave_ each time. Santa Inez! I would rather -see the ghost of the American than dream such a dream!” - -“Coward! it frightened me not,” continued the girl. “And I did not seem -to wake, though I knew that I, Chinita, lay in the bed, and that my head -sank deep in the soft pillow, and that I could not or would not raise -it; and the meaning of the dream crept into my mind, as the light creeps -into a dark room. Yes, I felt as I used to when I saw the little green -blades shoot up in the spring, and I could think how the corn would -grow, and the leaves would wave, and the maize would lie in the silk and -the yellow sheath; and so I had thought of what I had heard,—of the love -of Herlinda for the American, and what might have come of it.” - -“Hush!” interrupted Florencia with a scared look. “You said you dreamed -of a child. Did you see its face?” - -“No,” answered Chinita, slowly. “But what need that I should see it?” - -The two had risen as if by one impulse, and looked into each other’s -eyes. The woman was awed as much by the penetration and daring of the -young girl’s mind as by the thought that for the first time arose within -her. - -She cast her thoughts back. She had been young when the American was -murdered, when the Señorita Herlinda had left the hacienda never to -return, when the child had been found at the gate; yet she wondered that -she had been so blind to what now appeared so plain, and that all -alike—the wise and simple, the old and young—had been so utterly dazzled -by the glamor that surrounded the family of Garcia that no suspicion of -dishonor might attach to its women, or of cowardice to its men. Surely -none other than Herlinda Garcia would have escaped the lynx-eyed Selsa, -or a score of other scandal-loving women! Curiously enough, while a -feeling of detraction for the nun, whom she had long been used to -canonize in her thoughts, stole into her mind, a sensation of -traditional reverence for the Garcia arose for the young girl before -her. Florencia’s ideas of morality were perhaps vague on all points; -they certainly did not reach that of aspersion of the innocent fruit of -another’s fault. - -“Ay, _niña_,” the woman said at last with a gasp, “it is not every one -who drinks red wine that is happy. Thanks to God, the peasant woman who -carries a burden in her arms too soon needs only to suckle it under her -scarf, like any mother, and needs not to close upon herself the doors of -a convent. Santa Maria! who would have thought such things of the _niña_ -Herlinda?” - -“Be silent!” cried Chinita, with a tardy repentance of her confidence. -“How do I know that I am not the worst of evil thinkers, and a fool, a -very fool? Look thou, Florencia, it is thou who shall discover the truth -for me. Pedro is gone; perhaps he never knew it. The Tio Reyes must -know; but where is he? Yet I _must_ know. Oh, I could bear the truth -from Feliz, from Doña Isabel; but they are as silent and as sorrowful as -the image of the Madre Dolores. It is thou, Florencia, who must help me. -Oh, it will be but a diversion for thee. Thou shalt talk of thy Tio -Pedro, and of the day I was dropped in his hand, and of the days that -went before. Thou canst talk now of the murder of the American, and of -the Señorita Herlinda too, and there will be no Pedro to chide thee. And -see,—” as the woman began some faint objection,—“I have all the pretty -things Pedro gave me, and money too; yes, more than thou wouldst think. -And thou shalt never miss thy uncle; thou shalt have them all, if thou -wilt but talk to the old women of things that happened here before the -time of the great sickness. But, Florencia, thou must tell them nothing. -Oh, if I could only run again in and out of the village huts as I used -to do!” - -Florencia looked at the excited girl with a nod of intelligence. “Have -no fear,” she said; “it is not possible that Florencia knows not how to -manage her own tongue, though no one knows better than thyself it was -ever a quiet one. But it shall wag now, and not like the dog’s tail, in -mere idleness.” - -Chinita laughed, then glancing around her warily, drew from her bosom a -small gold coin. She had evidently prepared herself for a chance meeting -with Florencia. - -“Take it,” she said, “and go. Thou hast been here too long already; -and,” she added with the flush of red again tingeing her face, “talk and -gossip when the American is near. He must be sad,—it will cheer him to -hear the voices, even if he understands but little; and if by chance he -speaks to thee, why! thou shalt tell me what he says.” - -Florencia had experienced one great surprise that morning, and here was -another; the first had awed, the second delighted her. Like all her race -she had the instincts of secrecy and intrigue, and suddenly the -opportunity to practise both were offered her. She looked at Chinita -with a glance of infinite cunning in her soft dark eyes; but the young -girl would not meet her gaze. “Go, go!” she said impatiently; “you have -been here too long. The Señora is coming—or is it Doña Feliz? Go! go, I -say!” - -It was neither Doña Isabel nor Feliz, but only Chata, who entered with a -preoccupied air, scarcely noticing the woman who passed her on the -threshold. She did not speak, however, until Florencia had reluctantly -passed out of hearing; and then she cried eagerly, “Chinita! Chinita! -who is the stranger who stood with thee at the doorway? God bless us! I -thought I saw the ghost of the American we used to talk of; and but now -I met him below in the court. Who is he? What is he here for?” - -“That remains to be seen,” answered Chinita, with an uneasy laugh. Her -hasty confidence in Florencia troubled her, and closed her lips toward -the friend for whom she had hitherto longed. “At least the stranger is -no ghost; yet how can we know that the man who was murdered here so many -years before was anything to him?” - -“But I do know,” insisted Chata. “I had gone to the arbor, thinking thou -mightest be there, to break my fast. I was standing in the centre, with -my eyes turned toward this room, thinking I should see thee leave it, -and thinking too of the _niña_ Herlinda,—O Chinita! she is still so -beautiful,—when I heard a step behind me. It was a strange step, and I -turned quickly and saw the American looking at me as if he too believed -he saw a ghost. Was it not strange, Chinita? We looked at each other -quite steadily for many moments, then he said,— - -“‘Pardon me, you are then the daughter of the administrador? You came -here yesterday?’ - -“I could scarcely make out his words, yet I understood what he said, and -I seemed to know that he had taken me for another,—perhaps for thee, -Chinita; and then again he said, ‘Pardon me! Pardon me!’ and we still -continued to look at each other; and I did not think how bold I must -appear until the other stranger, the young officer who loves Rosario, -stepped out of the room they have given him. I heard his spurs clank on -the pavement, and then I fled away to thee. But for the fright, I should -not have dared to come hither, Chinita. All yesterday my grandmother -kept me from thee. She said now thou art the child of Doña Isabel, and -that without leave I must not go to thee.” - -“Chata, thou hast a poor spirit!” exclaimed Chinita, with some -severity,—though she remembered with impatient anger that Doña Isabel -had kept her in the garden at her side, on pretence of showing her the -strings of irregular pearls, which she should some day arrange in even -strands. Doña Isabel had made no promise, but Chinita could almost see -them in the future bedecking her own neck and arms. She had been -beguiled, even as Chata had been commanded, to keep apart from her old -playmate. - -“There is a mystery in it all!” she exclaimed. “Though I am here with -Doña Isabel, I know not who I am. It is intolerable! Sometimes I fear I -am but her plaything, with no more right to her notice than had the fawn -I found on the river bank and petted, till it died from very heartbreak -because it longed so for the mountains and its kind. And so I long, -Chata. Ah, thou knowest not what it is to be a nameless wretch, to be -tossed from hand to hand, and have no share in the game but the dizzy -whirling through the air. Pshaw! I would rather be dashed to pieces -against the first wall than go through life with nothing but favor to -rely on. I want a name, a place, a right. I will have them: even you, -who are the daughter of the administrador, have those; and I—Well, I -will not be simply _Chinita_, whom Doña Isabel makes a lady to-day, who -was a child of the Madonna yesterday, and may be a beggar to-morrow.” - -Chata had been leaning on the arm and pressing her head against the -shoulder of Chinita. She raised it now with a sharp low cry, and turned -away. Little guessed the impetuous, ambitious foundling how her words -tortured and taunted the other, who longed to cry out, “I too am no one! -I too am a stray, a waif, and if I know my father, know him only as a -terror,—a horror.” Her promise to Doña Rita silenced her. She felt there -was but one person in the world to whom she would break her promise,—the -pale, sweet-faced nun of the convent of El Toro. In her passionate, -bitter mood Chinita chilled and silenced her. She did not even tell her -that as she hastened from the arbor the American had caught the end of -her flying reboso, as if by an irresistible impulse, and cried: “I am -Ashley Ward! Ashley! Ashley! remember the name!” - -Remember it! it seemed to Chata as if she had always known the man as -well as the name, which had ever before been to her the symbol of the -dead rather than of the living. That she should have seen the Señorita -Herlinda, whom she had always known to be alive, seemed more wonderful, -more incredible to her mind, than that the young man should have risen -before her to claim the name of the murdered foreigner. Now that he had -come, she seemed all her life to have been expecting him. She did not -see him again for days, but all that time the expression of his eyes -haunted her. She could not fathom it. She did not guess it had been but -a reflection of the surprise, yet conviction, in her own. - -Chata did not again transgress the commands of Doña Feliz; nor did she -remain long enough with Chinita in her first visit to be tempted into -further confidence. Indeed, they parted with something like a quarrel, -as they had been used to do in their childhood’s days. Rosario’s name -had been mentioned, and Chinita had with some scorn commented both on -her sentimental air and the indifference of her lover. - -“Did he love her at El Toro?” she asked with the laugh that was so -mocking. “He stood for an hour, you say, at the corner of the street -waiting for a glance from her; he wrote verses by day and sang them by -night beneath her window? Well, he stood from noon till night yesterday -with his eyes turned upward,—one would have thought he had never gazed -at anything lower than the sky; yet it was only for a glimpse of _my_ -face, and a single glance from my eyes dazzled and blinded him. Thank -Heaven, he dare not tune a guitar beneath my windows for fear of Doña -Isabel, or I should be tormented with all the old rhymes changed from -Rosario to Chinita. Ah, there are likings and likings, and this pretty -soldier is one who would try them all!” - -“Chinita,” cried Chata in indignation, “you are false, you are cruel! -Rosario has done nothing to you that you should torment her. I -understand nothing of such things as Rosario does; though I am her age, -she seems to be a woman while I am still a child. But she says she loves -Fernando, and for love a woman’s heart may break.” - -Chata was thinking of the pale, sad nun; but Chinita threw herself into -a chair and broke into a peal of laughter. It rang through the silent -house, and startled Doña Isabel in the further chamber. She started -nervously and clasped her hands over her ears. - -“What a strange child it is.” she murmured, “Ah, I should have loved her -if—” She glanced at a note she had just written. It was addressed to -Vicente Gonzales, and promised him a thousand mounted soldiers. - -Doña Isabel made no idle promises, and she had counted well the cost -when she had thus irrevocably committed herself to the cause of the -Liberals. She had watched for years the course of events, and none saw -more clearly than she that the time for passiveness had gone. On every -hand there must necessarily be sacrifice. “That which goes not in sighs, -must in tears,” she said sententiously. “I like not the Indian Juarez, -yet his policy promises deliverance from the vampire that for -generations has grown strong and ever stronger, as it has drained the -very life of the nation.” - -The knowledge that Gonzales was in El Toro enjoying the prestige of an -accidental victory, but with a force entirely insufficient to meet that -which Ramirez might at any day bring against him, had been the immediate -cause of her action. To reward Pedro with a service which should at once -remove him from her sight and fill his mind with new and absorbing -interests, were the reasons why he had been chosen to ride from rancho -to rancho secretly inciting the men to join the standard, which was to -be raised upon the morrow. - -“Ah, this Ruiz is a poor tool!” muttered Doña Isabel, “yet for that -reason may be the more readily bought. He loves the daughter of my -administrador, and will do much to gain my good word. Rafael says he is -a brave soldier, if a false one; and there will be those with him who -will guard against treachery. He shall fulfil his empty offer to lead a -thousand men to Gonzales, and claim of Rafael the reward he sighs for. -Ah, there is the child’s laugh again,—I could almost fancy it in mockery -of me! Ah, this of patriot is a new _rôle_ for me, and tries my nerves. -Well, Chinita shall laugh while she can: if it is for long, it will -prove her none of the blood of Garcia. Was there ever a happy woman -among them?” - -While Doña Isabel pondered thus, Chata in deep indignation had turned -from her whilom friend. She had been brought up among a people who in -matters of love held man excused and woman guilty in all cases of -inconstancy. “Farewell!” she exclaimed, “I will come no more to you who -are so cruel. Doña Isabel was right to part us; she has changed your -heart as she has your fortune. Ah!” she added bitterly, “all the world -is changed to me, and why not you?” - -The grieved and imbittered girl went out so quickly that Chinita’s -answer did not reach her. As she passed through the corridor Chata -glanced down. The young officer stood there, as Chinita had described. -He would catch the first glimpse of her as she left her room. Chata -flushed in anger, yet tears of pity rose to her eyes. She was still a -child, yet her heart foretold what might be the agony of woman’s -slighted love. - -Even so soon Chinita was laughing no longer; she had crouched forward -and sat with her face bent almost to her knees. “What have I done?” she -asked herself. “It is early morning still, and I have told a secret to a -fool, and offended her I should have trusted!” - -She had eaten nothing; the excitement under which she had acted suddenly -expired, and she burst into sobs and tears. Doña Feliz coming in a few -minutes later, found her on her knees before the little image of her -patron saint, passionately vowing the gift of a silver _Christo_ in -return for the boon she craved. - -“Go to the corridor, my child,” said Feliz pityingly. The girl was a -problem to her, which every day seemed more difficult of solution. “You -look weary and ill; but console yourself,—Pedro is safe. You will see -the good foster-father again, be assured.” - -Chinita looked at her in astonishment. She had for the time forgotten -Pedro’s very existence. Doña Feliz discerned at once that she had -credited the girl with a sensibility to which she was a stranger. Five -minutes later she was quite certain of it, as Chinita sat on the -corridor, apparently equally unconscious of the impassioned glances of -Ruiz, or those of the invisible but infuriate Rosario, drawing the -threads of some dainty linen and singing,— - - _Sale la Linda, - Sale la fea, - Sale el enano, - Con su galea._ - - “The beauty comes out, - The ugly one too; - Then comes the dwarf, - With a gay halloo.” - -As unstudied and inconsequent as the meaningless words of the song -seemed the actions of the singer, but Feliz shook her head, and met Doña -Isabel with a face that was even more serious than its wont. The problem -became to her mind each day more complicated. Would the result be -bitterness, and that grief most dreaded by the proud heart of Doña -Isabel Garcia,—the grief and bitterness of shame? - - - - - XXIX. - - -Florencia fulfilled her mission well,—recalling skilfully to the minds -of the elder gossips the events and doubts of years agone, and those -suspicions, light as air, which had once before menaced the fair name -and fame of her who later had been revered as a saint under the name of -Sister Veronica. - -It was natural after the excitement of Pedro’s disappearance had -subsided that reminiscences of events in which he had figured should, in -default of some new interest, rise to the stagnant surface of hacienda -life, and be re-colored and adorned with suggestions probable or -improbable, and that the favorite topic should be torn to shreds in its -dissection, while the motive power of its appearance should in the -excitement of discussion be utterly lost sight of. Florencia herself, in -the interest of tracing the sequence of events, and in hearing -attributed to the characters that had figured in her girlhood traits and -deeds of which she had heard little or nothing at that bygone time, -almost forgot that she was talking with a purpose, and therefore perhaps -had a truly unprejudiced account to give to Chinita,—when she could -again see her, for Doña Isabel had become a wary duenna, and the girl -had had no opportunity of learning anything that might have thrown light -upon the theory she had formed of her birth and parentage. - -In his insufficient knowledge of the language, Ashley Ward let much of -the gossip of the women who chatted about him as they performed their -daily tasks pass entirely unheeded, while he pondered upon the very -subjects which with more or less directness were discussed. But one -morning he caught the name of Herlinda, and thenceforth all his senses -were alert. Great was his surprise when he discovered this to be the -name of a daughter of Doña Isabel who had been a beautiful girl when the -American was killed, and thenceforward his mind became preternaturally -keen; so that he divined the meanings of words he had never heard -before,—gestures, glances, the very inflection of a tone, became -revelations to him. - -Hitherto, without cogitating upon the matter, Ward had naturally assumed -from hearing no reference to another that the newly married Carmen was -the only child of Doña Isabel. Now he learned the tragical fate of -Norberto and the existence of the elder and more beautiful daughter -Herlinda, the cloistered nun; and she was for the time the theme of -endless reminiscences and conjectures. Her winsome childhood; her early -gayety and incomparable beauty; the open love of Gonzales; the suspected -mutual attachment of the young American and the daring child, who with -her mother’s pride had failed to inherit her mother’s strength of will; -the murder of John Ashley; the time of the great sickness; the death of -Mademoiselle La Croix; the effect of the shock and horror upon the mind -and appearance of Herlinda; the scarcely whispered, faint, yet not -wholly disproved suspicions which had floated over the name and fame of -the daughter of a house too absolute in its ascendency and power to be -lightly attacked; her removal from the hacienda; her strange rejection -of the suit of one who had always been dear to her, and to whom her -mother, in accordance with good and seemly usage, had pledged her; her -renunciation of the world she had loved, and entrance to a convent, -which she had held in horror,—all these circumstances were discussed -from a dozen points of view. - -And all he heard confirmed in Ashley’s mind the belief that the woman -whom his cousin had loved was traced; that whether she had been actually -a wife or no, she, Herlinda Garcia, the daughter of a woman whom it -would be a mortal offence to approach upon such a subject, was the -possible mother of a child which he could scarcely refuse to believe -existed,—though here a new perplexity confronted him as (like the young -officer, whom he regarded with a half-contemptuous amusement that should -have prevented him from following any example set by so love-lorn a -cavalier) he began to seek occasion for observing Chinita with an -intensity that made her doubly the object of the jealous and ireful -dislike of Rosario and her mother. To his alert and dispassionate mind -circumstances pointed to this girl as the possible link between the -families of Ashley and Garcia, though the most minute and patient -observation only seemed to make absurd the supposition that American -blood mingled in the fiery tide which filled her veins, colored her rich -beauty, and vivified the scornful and stoical yet ambitious spirit, -which as by a spell at the same moment repelled yet charmed both himself -and the haughty Doña Isabel. What was the secret of the foundling’s -influence? He cared not to analyze either his own mind or the -irresistible fascination of Chinita; but that the girl, though not -positively beautiful, and unmistakably repellent in her caustic yet -stoical discontent and ambitious unrest, possessed a bewitching and -bewildering grace far different from any he had ever beheld in woman, of -whatever race or kindred, impressed him daily more and more deeply, -while—But stubborn facts made speculation and efforts at inquiry alike -futile. - -As days passed on, a certain friendship sprang up between Ward and Don -Rafael. They talked for hours over the political situation,—Ashley -straining ear and mind to comprehend the administrador’s smooth and -impressive utterances, and Don Rafael with grave politeness listening -without a smile or gesture of amusement to the hesitating and often -utterly incomprehensible attempts of the young American to deliver his -opinions, or to make minute inquiry into reasons and events which often -horrified as well as puzzled him. Don Rafael had the air of simplicity -and candor which is so infinitely attractive to the stranger, and which -presented so great a contrast to the lofty coldness of Doña Isabel and -the grave and melancholy reticence of Feliz. Their demeanor left the -baffling and depressing conviction that there was an infinity that they -might reveal were but the right chord touched; while that of Don Rafael -was satisfying in its cordiality, even while no response fulfilled the -expectation that his fluent and kindly frankness appeared to encourage. - -As soon as the state of his wound permitted, Ashley joined the -administrador in his early morning rides to the fields and pastures, and -learned much of the workings of a great hacienda. These rides were -confined to the immediate neighborhood of the great house, and four or -six armed men were invariably in attendance,—for, as Don Rafael -explained with a smile, the administrador of the rich hacienda of Tres -Hermanos was invested with the dignity of its possessors, his personal -insignificance being absorbed in the state of those he represented; so -that his person bore a fictitious value, and if seized by an enemy, -either personal or political, would doubtless be held at a prince’s -ransom, which the honor as well as the interest of his employers would -force them to pay. - -In the course of these rides they not infrequently approached the -deserted reduction-works, and it was upon the first occasion that this -happened that Don Rafael questioned the young American as to his -relationship to the last director; and upon learning it, rehearsed with -deep feeling the story of his murder, pointing out the very tree under -which the bloody tragedy was enacted. - -Ashley watched his countenance narrowly as he talked. His words, whose -meaning might have been obscure to the foreigner, were rendered dramatic -by the deep pathos of his tone and the expressive force of his gestures; -even the men who rode behind drew near as his voice rose on the -stillness of the air in a tale so foreign to the peace and beauty of the -scene. As they skirted the low adobe wall and looked over upon the -stagnant masses of mineral clay, the piles of broken ores, the adobe -sheds and stables crumbling under rain and sun, Ashley was ready to -credit the whispered words with which Don Rafael ended his narration; -“Señor, it is said in the silent night, when the moon is at its full, -phantoms of its old life revivify this deserted spot, and that its -massive gates open at the call of a ghostly rider, who wears the form of -that poor youth who after his last midnight ride came back feet -foremost, recumbent, silent, from the tryst he had sallied forth to -keep.” - -“And did you know the woman?” gasped rather than demanded Ashley Ward. - -“Did _I_ know the woman?” answered Don Rafael. “I know the woman? I was -a stranger, and, truth to tell, no friend of Americans; a faithful -husband withal, and was it likely, though he had them, this stranger -would have shared secrets of a doubtful nature with me? When I said a -‘tryst’ I used it for want of a better word. What attraction should a -man so refined, so engrossed in his affairs as this busy foreigner, find -in the humble and rustic beauties of the village? For my part, I find it -impossible to imagine such coarseness in a man so little likely to be -governed by a base passion as Ashley appeared. You know your own people -better than I can; what say you?” - -“I say the same!” answered Ward, eagerly, with a keen glance at the -sensitive dark face of the administrador. “Yet I know that my cousin -loved; that he claimed to be married; that the lady—” - -He paused,—some of the men were within hearing, listening like Don -Rafael himself with rapt faces. That of Don Rafael lighted for a moment -with an incredulous smile. “Ah, then there _was_ a woman?” he said. -“That might be; but a marriage? Ah, Señor, if there had been that, all -the world would have known it. You know but little of our laws if you -suppose such a contract could be here secretly and legally made. If he -claimed such to be the case, he was vilely deceived, or himself was—” - -He stopped at the word, as if fearing to offend. - -To urge the matter further seemed to Ashley worse than useless. He had -learned enough of marriage laws in Mexico to feel that to mention the -name of Herlinda Garcia in connection with that of Ashley was to cast -upon it a slur such as could but bring upon him the resentment, and -perhaps the revenge, of the family to which he was probably indebted for -his very life, and certainly for a hospitality that merited respect for -its liberality if not gratitude for its warmth. - -“I shall never learn the truth,” he thought; “and why indeed should I -seek it? My aunt was wise in her generation. Though ignorant of the -possibilities or impossibilities of Mexican society and character, she -wisely refrained from problems which its keenness and honor ignored or -left unsolved. I will go back again in content to my houses and lands, -to my silver and gold. I am despoiling no legitimate heir; and to -imagine the existence of any other is an offence either to my cousin’s -intelligence or honor, as well as to the chastity of a woman whom even -in thought I must be a villain to asperse. Let but a momentary quiet -come that I may be able to obtain the requisite funds, and I will -abandon this senseless quest, and leave my murdered cousin to rest in -peace in his forgotten grave, in this land of violence and mysteries.” - -This was the resolve of one hour,—to be broken in the next, as the sight -of a girl’s face or the sound of her voice, like a disturbing -conscience, assured him that in absence the doubt, or rather the -tantalizing certainty, would each day torment him more and more, and so -make enjoyment of his wealth even more impossible than it had been when -Mary’s sensitive imaginings had urged him upon his Quixotic errand. - -Trivial and even ridiculous things often divert minds most harassed and -burdened, and exert an influence when great and weighty matters would -benumb or torture. It would have been impossible for Ashley Ward, in the -embarrassment of his situation (for his funds in the City of Mexico were -entirely cut off by its investment by the Liberals) and in the -perplexity of his thoughts, to have entered with enjoyment upon any -festivity or pleasure requiring exertion either of body or mind; but he -was, quite unconsciously to himself, in the mood idly to view the little -comedy which was enacted more and more freely before his eyes,—just as -in seasons of deepest grief and anxiety one may seek mechanical -employment for the eye and relief for the brain in the perusal of a tale -so light that neither the strain of a nerve or a thought, nor the -excitement of pleasure or pain, shall awaken emotion or burden memory. - -Fernando Ruiz was too wily a youth, too courteous, too kind, to throw -off at once the semblance of devotion to a goddess who had lured him to -a shrine that held a divinity whose charms, in his inconstant sight, so -far surpassed her own that he could not choose but transfer his worship, -even were it but to be disdained and rejected. In the decorous visits he -made to Doña Rita and when they met at table, he would still sigh and -cast despairing glances at the bridling Rosario, who but that she -intercepted others more fervent still, directed toward the upper end of -the board where Doña Isabel and Chinita sat in lonely state, would have -believed quite true the tale with which her mother strove to console -her,—using such feeble prevarication as is usual in Mexican families -when ill news is to be ultimately communicated, in the fond hope of -softening a blow which doubt and procrastination can but cause to be the -more nervously dreaded. But well was Rosario convinced that though Ruiz -held daily conferences with her father, and even once or more was -honored by a few moments’ speech with Doña Isabel, it was not of her or -of love that they spoke; and with a philosophic determination to replace -with a more faithful lover the fickle admirer whom she could cease to -love but would never forgive, the piqued, but lightly wounded damsel -began to turn a shoulder upon the recreant soldier and her smiles upon -the stranger. - -Ward was perhaps singularly free from vanity, or too much absorbed to -notice the honor paid him; but with a sense of angry surprise he became -aware that Chinita no longer ignored the existence of the persistent -languisher, who at early morning paced the court in trim riding-suit of -leather, a gay serape thrown negligently over his left shoulder, his -wide-brimmed hat poised at the angle whence he could see the door of her -room open, and Chinita rival the sun in dazzling his enchanted eyes. At -noon he stood in the self-same spot in gay uniform, from which by some -miraculous process all stain and grime had disappeared; and not -infrequently at evening he reappeared in the holiday dress of some -clerk, who for the time had lent his jacket of black velvet trimmed with -silver buttons, or his riding-suit of stamped leather and waist-scarf of -scarlet silk, well pleased to fancy he was represented by the lithe -young officer, who filled them with a grace that made them thenceforth -of treble value in the owner’s eyes. - -This masquerade might have continued indefinitely,—for Ruiz wearied no -sooner of changing fine clothes than of descanting to Ashley of his -sudden but undying passion for the young Chinita, whose fortunes he -conceived, as the favored of Doña Isabel Garcia, would be as brilliant -as her charms,—but that first, one by one, then in twos and threes, in -tens and dozens, men flocked into the adjacent villages; and though -reluctant to be torn from gentler pursuits, yet proud to form and -command a regiment, the young adventurer was set the task of bringing -order out of the wild and discordant elements,—a task for which the -training of his life, and his peculiar knowledge of the material with -which he had to work, more fitted him than any especial talent, however -brilliant, in the conduct of ordinary military affairs would have done. - -The young officer’s vanity was flattered, for in some occult way the -responsibility of the spontaneous rally was thrown upon his shoulders, -and he became the central figure in a movement which within a few days -assumed a picturesque and imposing character. He himself assumed that -the magic of his name had called from their rocky lairs these mountain -banditti, these sturdy vaqueros, these apathetic but resolute rancheros -who trooped in, bringing with them rusty carbines and shotguns, and -sometimes polished Henry and Sharp’s rifles, which the enterprise of -speculative Americans had introduced into the country. There was no -choice of weapons, but every one brought something,—a silver-mounted -pistol, worthless as pretentious, or a strong and formidable -short-sword, or glittering curved sabre, forged in some mountain or -village smithy. - -It seemed too that by mere force of will money came into the captain’s -hands, and that clothing, horses, and provisions were thus brought forth -from the stores and fields of Tres Hermanos; that plans were laid, and -adverse possibilities provided against, a way marked out and guides -provided; and that he suddenly found himself at the head of a force more -fully equipped than any he had before beheld,—men eager for adventure -and battle, and clamorous to be led to join the forces of Gonzales, who -while the cause with which he sympathized was meeting bloody reverses -around the City of Mexico in which the Clerical forces were -concentrated, was daily attracting in the interior formidable additions -to the numbers of the Liberals. The tales of Conservative despotism and -barbarity, which later investigations proved to have been well founded, -aided much in influencing the masses to seek a change of evils, even -where hopeless of any lasting benefit from the new condition of affairs -which it was proposed to inaugurate. - -A people who had for generations found in changes of government simply -fresh despotisms and encroachments were not likely to be as enthusiastic -in discussion as mad for action,—for crushing and destroying the old, -and seizing upon all available booty, not as necessary to the success of -their cause, but as a despoilment of the enemy. And upon this principle -it within a few days happened that Tres Hermanos presented more the -appearance of a forced than a voluntary contributor to the military -necessities of the time. Not only the common soldiers but those who were -to lead them,—most of them men as skilled in ordering the sacking of a -hacienda as in defending a mountain pass or assaulting some unwary -town,—had poured in and filled every vacant nook in the village huts, -and occupied the long-deserted reduction-works and the ruinous huts -along the watercourse, and overran the courts and yards of the great -house itself. - -The great conical storehouses of small grains and corn were opened and -the mill invaded by the soldiers, who under the half-reluctant -directions of the skilled workmen kept the somewhat primitive machinery -in constant motion,—varying their employment by breaking the half-wild -horses brought in from the wide pastures and talking love to the village -girls, who in all their lives had never before beheld a holiday-making -half so delightful. - -The long-closed church too was thrown open, and a priest from the next -village was busied all day long shriving the sins of those whom he -shrewdly suspected were ready to raise the standard of revolt against -the temporal rule of the Church, whose ghostly powers had overshadowed -earth with the terrors of its supernatural dominion. - -Ruiz had gained a certain fame, more as a reflection from that of the -man with whom he had been associated than from any daring episodes in -his own career; and he actually possessed a military training that -ordinarily well filled the place of innate genius, and at other times -counterfeited it. He had impressed Don Rafael as a man well suited, if -hedged with precautions, to lead the forces that his representations -induced Doña Isabel to send to the relief of her favorite Gonzales. A -leader of more positive aspirations and declared opinions than Ruiz -manifested, would not so happily have welded and moulded men of such -diverse and conflicting elements,—men who, accustomed to the freedom of -guerilla warfare, were more ready to be led by the glitter than the -substance of authority. A man of straw, who though answering a purpose -for the time could create no diversion of devotion to his own person in -detriment to the supremacy of Gonzales, was sought and found in Ruiz. He -was indeed the simple tool of Doña Isabel Garcia, manipulated by her -administrador, yet so skilfully that he came to think himself the moving -power which from an isolated farmhouse had within a few days changed Los -Tres Hermanos into a military camp. - -In proportion with the importance of the position into which Ruiz was -forced his love and daring grew, and he remembered that many men of -family as obscure, and certainly of less tact and talent than he, had -crowned their fortunes by marriage with beautiful daughters of rich -houses; and he even began to reflect with some dissatisfaction upon -Chinita’s doubtful status, although a few days before he had despaired -of rising to a height where he might dare so much as touch the hand of -Doña Isabel’s favored _protégée_. - -These changes of feeling were watched from day to day with amusement by -Ashley Ward, and with rage by Pepé, as with despair he saw himself -fading completely from the horizon of Chinita’s life, and a new and -dazzling star rising upon her view. More than once Ashley Ward saw him -nervously fingering the knife in his belt, as the unconscious Ruiz stood -by the fountain in the moonlight and strummed the strings of a -bandoline, and in the shrill tenor which seems the natural vehicle of -such weird strains sang the _paloma_, “the Dove,” or _Te amo_, “I love -thee,”—sounds pleasing in any female ear, though doubtless, thought Doña -Isabel, intended to reach the heart of one particular fair one; at which -she smiled as she imagined this to be the pretty brown Rosario, while -the tender notes in reality appealed not quite in vain to the girl who -with a remarkable semblance of patience shared the seclusion of her own -life. - -Once only had Chinita rebelled, and that was when, instead of her usual -ramble in the garden with Feliz or Doña Isabel herself, she had asked to -be driven through the village, past the reduction-works, that she might -see the preparations of which the distant sounds reached her. She would -not be appeased at Doña Isabel’s refusal, even by the suggestion that -she should stand upon the balcony of the central window, whence she -could overlook the scene for miles; and so contrary was her humor that -Doña Isabel was glad to agree to her sudden fancy that her old -playfellow Pepé should be allowed to describe to her what he had seen. -“Men see more than women,” the wilful girl exclaimed; “he will tell me -something more than of the chickens that are stolen, and the number of -tortillas that are eaten. Ay, Dios! I would I were a man myself, to be a -soldier!” - -So toward evening a message brought by Doña Feliz herself startled the -sullen Pepé. Ashley Ward watched the youth with some curiosity as he -sauntered across the court and ascended the stone stairs. Pepé’s dress -that day was in a Saturday’s state of grime, and at best consisted of a -shabby suit of yellow buckskin, from which the metal buttons had mostly -dropped, and which gaped at the armholes as widely as at the waistband; -and his leathern sandals and sombrero of woven grass showed signs of -age, corresponding to that of the ragged blanket he wore with such an -air that he might have been taken for the very king of idle loungers. - -Doña Isabel glanced up at him as he muttered the customary salutation, -uncovering his shock of black hair and inclining his head to her, while -his black eyes furtively sought Chinita. There was nothing in his -appearance for the most careful duenna to fear, and although Doña Isabel -remembered that a few weeks ago those two had been equals, they now -seemed as widely sundered as the poles; and knowing the prolixity with -which the ordinary ranchero usually approached and gave his views upon -any subject, she withdrew to the lower end of the gallery, where she -might count her beads or con her thoughts undisturbed. The murmur of -voices reached her with sufficient distinctness for her to know that the -usual process of minute questioning and tantalizing indefiniteness of -answer was in progress; and at length, soothed by the warm still air, -the low song of a bird in the orange-tree which exhaled a sweet and -heavy odor, and the habitual absorption of her own reflections, she -failed to notice that the murmur of the voices grew less and less -distinct, and indeed blended faintly with the low medley of sounds -peculiar to the coming eveningtide. - -“Pepé,” Chinita was saying then, in a tone a little above a whisper, -“tell me, is it true that this Don Fernando Ruiz, who for love of -Rosario, and to please Don Rafael and Doña Isabel, is to lead these -recruits to join Don Gonzales,—tell me, is it true that he was the -associate of that Ramirez who was here so many years ago?” - -“It is likely,” answered Pepé, sullenly. “I have heard that he is -Ramirez’s godson; and what more likely,” he added in an undertone, “than -that the Devil should stand sponsor for an imp of his own blackness?” - -“In that case,” said Chinita, sharply, “it is impossible Ruiz has -pronounced against him. Who ever heard of a godchild drawing sword -against his sponsor? It should be against his father or brother rather. -Go to, Pepé, you and I know nothing of Puro or Mocho. Bah! they know not -the difference one from the other themselves; but we do know Ramirez and -Gonzales, and it is the first that I love. What are you frowning at, -Pepé? Oh! oh! oh! you are jealous, as you used to be of Pancho and Juan -and Gabriel! What an idea! Ha! ha! ha!” - -“Why do you laugh so loudly?” asked Doña Isabel across the corridor, not -displeased to see her merry. - -“Because he was telling me how the Tia Gomesinda broke the jar over the -shoulders of the brave recruit who drained it of her last boiling of -corn gruel,” answered Chinita, readily. “But excuse me, Señora, I will -not disturb you again;” and she turned with a conciliatory smile toward -Pepé, who was regarding her with an expression of malignant idolatry,—if -such an extravagant phrase may be coined, to indicate a love which was -capable of destroying, but never of renouncing, its object. - -“Thou art more unmannerly and more easily vexed than when thou usedst to -follow me through the corn and bean fields, bending under the loads of -wild fruit and flowers I piled upon thee, and then throwing them down -some stony ravine because of one sharp word I would give thee. How canst -thou expect ever to be aught but a poor ranchero, with a temper so -unreasonable?” - -“And what if I were as patient as Saint Stephen himself, what would it -matter? Thou wouldst not love me,” answered the young man. “And what -care I whether I am poor or rich, ranchero or soldier? It is all one now -that thou art with Doña Isabel. Why, if thou wert her child she could -not be more choice of thee. Those who ate from the same plate and drank -from the same bowl with thee are less than the dogs who followed thee;” -and he would have kicked, had it been near enough, the cur which had -been Pedro’s, and which like many others had the undisputed right to the -corridor, and with patient obstinacy chose to lie at Chinita’s door. - -The young girl looked up with a tantalizing smile. She had been used to -these speeches of covert jealousy, which she feigned to take as the envy -of an ill-mannered ranchero. “Pshaw!” she said gazing at him through her -half-closed lids, and yet from beneath the long lashes that veiled them -casting a languorous though wholly unstudied glance, which dazzled and -thrilled him, “‘friends, bacon, and wine should be old!’ What friend -like an old friend? He is better than a new-found relation. It is he who -will do a bidding and ask no reason for it; it is he—” - -“What can I do for thee?” whispered Pepé, hoarsely. “Tell me, and thou -shalt see whether I am a friend or no; and then Chinita thou wilt—” - -“Sh-h!” interrupted Chinita, her finger again on her lip. “What does it -matter to me who wins or loses in these senseless battles? Yet I wonder -thou art not with Pedro; I would not have him sick or wounded, and -alone,” and her eyes filled with tears. Pepé moved from foot to foot, -and rubbed his shoulder against the wall uneasily. There was a covert -reproach in her tone which he resented, and yet it pleased him too that -she should be troubled: if Pedro were remembered, he could not himself -be wholly forgotten. - -“It is not my fault,” he muttered: “he stole away in the night. Some say -after all he has not gone to Gonzales, and that the men who are gathered -here may find themselves led to Ramirez. At any rate this Ruiz—who you -say loves Rosario, but who sighs like a furnace when his eye lights on -you, and who has worn away the post of his door writing verses to your -praise with the point of his rapier—should be but little to be trusted.” - -“Ah!” ejaculated Chinita, “I do not think thou lovest him, Pepito. Thou -wouldst not that he should do me a favor instead of thyself?” - -“I would see him choked first with the wine in which he drinks a toast -to thine eyes,” answered Pepé, hotly. “Señor Don ’Guardo and I are in -the same mind about that; but it is not that he thinks thee a beauty,” -he added hastily. - -Chinita flushed and tossed her head proudly. “What matters it what Don -’Guardo thinks?” she said. “There could be nothing but ill luck in the -favor of a man like that. Hast thou shown him the grave of the other -American? Ah, thou must know where to find it. Didst thou think I did -not see thee following me behind the tuñas and bushes the day I found it -after I had bidden thee go back? Thou wert like Negrito there. Come -here, Negrito; thou art lean and black, but I love thee;” and she -stooped to pat the slinking cur. “Ah, ah! Pepito, it would be a good -jest if thou wouldst show Don ’Guardo the American’s grave, and tell him -Chinita bids him beware of the same fortune.” - -“He would think thee a gypsy more than ever, and a saucy one,” answered -Pepé. “But I know this is not the favor thou wouldst ask of me. Thou art -thinking ever of Ramirez, who bewitched thee. Ask it of the Captain Ruiz -rather than me. I would die for thee, but I see not how I can serve thee -by turning traitor.” - -Chinita started up angrily. “Am I a false-hearted wretch to ask it of -thee?” she cried furiously, though in a low voice. “Ramirez fights for -the side of right. Is it his fault if the Clergy are right to-day and -the Liberals tomorrow? Were not he and Gonzales upon the same side when -they were here years ago? Were not his men crying ‘_Dios y Libertad!_’ -when they passed here six months ago? And suppose the cry is changed. -Bah! with Doña Isabel’s men he would be of Doña Isabel’s opinion! What -does it matter to him? He is a man to fight, not to sit down like Don -Rafael and the major-domo, old Don Tomas, and talk, talk, talk!” - -“That is very well,” said Pepé, staidly; “but why do you not tell this -all to Doña Isabel? Or listen, now: to please thee I will seek Pedro,—I -warrant me he is not so far away,—and I will tell him how thou wouldst -have Ramirez rather than Gonzales to lead the troops; if it matters not -to him, _cierto_ it will not to me! But I tell thee frankly I would be -of those who would pull down rather than build up churches. I see no -gain to be had in fighting for the Señores the bishops, who have so much -already that the poor man can have nothing but leave to fast while the -priests revel in plenty. Go to, Chinita! thou hast heard Pedro talk of -freedom as much as I have. If Don Benito Juarez and Don Vicente and the -rest of them gain the day, I—why I might be an alcalde myself, or a -general; and then—well, anything thou wilt!” - -Chinita laughed and nodded at him. “It is the Señor Ramirez who could -bring about all that,” she said with conviction; “and, Pepé, though thou -dost not love the Captain Ruiz, thou shalt take him that message from -Chinita. Yes, yes! go thy way quietly to Pedro, and if there is treason, -Ruiz shall work it. So the General Ramirez shall be brought over to our -side, and Ruiz shall be the only man who will be blamed, if Doña Isabel -is vexed.” - -Pepé shook his head doubtfully. His views were no clearer than -Chinita’s, but they were not additionally obscured by an unreasoning -enthusiasm for a self-created hero. Doña Isabel was rising from her -chair; the rattle of the wood upon the bricks startled the two speakers. - -“How goes it with thy sister Juana?” asked Chinita, lightly. “She told -me once she loved Gabriel because, though he was old and ugly, he would -do more to please her than all the young and handsome lovers. Are they -happy, do you think, or has he beaten her already, as I said he would?” - -Pepé looked at her keenly and with an expression of wild hope from -behind the wide hat he was holding in both hands before his face, in -awkward preparation for departure. Would Chinita too marry the man who -would please her? And after all it was but a little thing,—just a hint -to the man whose admiration she jeered at. - -“Thou canst go now, Pepé,” said Doña Isabel, approaching. “I am sure the -Señorita has heard enough of the wild doings of these mad soldiers. -Thank Heaven, they leave us soon! Ah, now that I think of it, thou mayst -say to the Señor Americano that Captain Ruiz told me to-day he would -gladly give him safe escort as far upon their way as their roads may lie -together; and—but I forgot, such messages are not for thee. I will send -them by the Señor Administrador.” - -Pepé muttered his adieus and bowed himself away in some confusion. -Chinita looked after him meaningly; he caught her glance and then the -motion of her lips. His heart beat wildly; they formed the refrain of a -popular song,— - - “Adios, my dearest love!” - -Pepé reached the court quite dizzy. Ashley Ward and Captain Ruiz were -both waiting for him. His excitement had reached a crisis. He seized -Ruiz by the arm. “If you would please her,” he hissed in his ear, “find -Ramirez, and let him, and not Gonzales, lead the troops.” - -“You are drunk!” answered Ruiz; yet he clutched the youth by the arm, -and led him into his room. - -Pepé came to his senses with the shock as he sank upon a stone bench -against the cold, hard wall. Presently he gave a brief account of -Chinita’s desires and reasons. Ruiz listened without a smile. Childish -and unprincipled as they were, they were not more so than scores he had -heard discussed in the course of the years of anarchy in which he had -entered upon manhood. Find Ramirez, pledge him to the Liberal cause, -leave it to him to gain such an ascendency over the troops that they -would themselves proclaim him their leader! It was an easy task. It set -him thinking, and Pepé slunk away to hope, to doubt, to despair, to hope -again. - - “Adios, my dearest love!”— - -just the refrain of a song, yet it pursued and bewildered him. For less, -stronger men than Pepé the ranchero have committed unimaginable crimes. - -The next morning when they met in the court, Captain Ruiz stopped Pepé. -“Tell her her wishes are law to me!” he said. “If she but love me, I—” - -“_Caramba!_” cried Pepé, savagely. “Am I an old woman or a priest that I -should carry your messages? She love you! she would needs have been born -to lead apes, to love you.” And Pepé flung himself off in a rage, while -the astounded Ruiz gazed after him in open-mouthed amazement. - -“By my life, he loves her himself!” he muttered vacantly. “Señor Don -’Guardo, heard you ever such presumption? The bare-skin beggar loves the -favorite—what shall we say?—niece of Doña Isabel!” - -“Let us say you are both fools!” said Don ’Guardo in good round English -and with a sudden rage, the motive of which was to himself inexplicable; -and the discomfited captain bowed, not doubting that his own expression -of disgust had been echoed. - -“_Caramba!_ a woman so beautiful gazed at by every beggar, like an image -of the Virgin of Remedios carried in procession! I swear I will not -forget thee, Pepito, and will keep a close eye on thee, now I know thou -hast been tampered with!” continued Ruiz, hotly. “A word to the General -Gonzales will be enough if he is of my mind!” - -That day, in spite of Doña Isabel’s diligence, a pink note found its way -to Chinita. “Good!” she said after reading it, “My General Ramirez will -have the men; the Señor Gonzales will be helped, and Doña Isabel will do -a double good. This is not so bad a subject,—this Ruiz; and his eyes are -as black and large as those of Ramirez himself. All is well. All things -will come right at last. Ah, if only what Don Rafael told Feliz one -night should come true, and the convents are opened, then—” - -She paused. It seemed too utterly impossible even to dream of. She -looked again at her first love-letter; a twinge of remorse seized her as -she thought of Rosario. She laughed, but she tore the paper into -infinitesimal shreds. - -What was the writer thinking? “Onward! I have gone too far to turn back -even at the word of Chinita. A promise will gain her love, but the -essential thing is the good-will of Doña Isabel. ‘A pearl is all the -better for a golden setting!’ No treaties then with Ramirez. Though he -is my godfather, I need not his patronage. Doña Isabel, a straight path, -and Juarez! Forward! Ruiz, fortune favors you!” - - - - - XXX. - - -A few days later the troops had left Tres Hermanos, and Ashley Ward -stood in the silent graveyard on the mountain side, pushing back with -his foot the loose sand his tread had disturbed, as it threatened again -and again to cover the rude wooden cross upon which his eyes were fixed. -It bore the name of his murdered cousin, faint yet distinct, preserved -by the sand, for the wind had soon prostrated it after Chinita’s shallow -replanting. The words seemed to Ashley to call to him aloud from the -dust of his kinsman; in the hot sunshine their spell was as potent as -though a ghostly voice had spoken at midnight. For the first time, -something more intense than the desire to satisfy conscience by proving -that he wronged no rightful heir in entering upon property which would -have been John Ashley’s had he lived, arose in his mind. The absolute -reality of his cousin’s death for the first time seemed to become an -overwhelming conviction; and with it came memories of the young and -daring man whom he had in childhood held in wondering admiration. And as -he stood within sight of the spot where the brilliant young life had -ended in a bloody tragedy, a deep wave of sorrow surged over his soul, -and from its depths, as from the loose sands of the wind-levelled grave, -appeared to rise a cry for vengeance. - -Though not till now had Chinita’s charge that he be taken to the -American’s grave been carried out, the message from Doña Isabel, which -Pepé had not failed to deliver, had reached him some days before, and -had been supplemented by a visit from Don Rafael. Although a certain -fascination had inclined Ashley to linger still at Tres Hermanos, he had -so little hope of adding to the information he had already gained of his -cousin’s life,—there seemed so little possibility that the marriage -which John Ashley had intimated had taken place, could ever have been -more than a mere sentimental dedication of the lovers one to the other, -in which they deemed themselves man and wife in the sight of God, but -which in the sight of man was a mere illicit connection, to be condemned -or ignored,—that he had not dared to present himself before the haughty -mother of the one Herlinda whom he suspected to have been the object of -his cousin’s passion, and to insult her with questions or insinuations -that would cast a doubt upon her daughter’s purity and a stain upon the -fame of the house of Garcia, which even the blood of John Ashley and his -own added thereto would be insufficient to wash away. - -The young man had decided then to accept the order of dismissal, so -delicately conveyed in the intimation that by accepting the escort of -the troops as far as they might proceed toward Guanapila, he would not -only reach a point whence in all probability he might in safety proceed -to that city, but that he would thus render a favor to Doña Isabel, who -was minded by the same opportunity to withdraw from the hacienda,—her -presence there being liable to act as a lure to either party, who might -after seizing her person levy a ransom upon the family which even their -large resources would be severely strained to meet. - -Although the fiction was maintained that her assistance of the Liberal -cause was involuntary, it was readily surmised that Doña Isabel Garcia -was in reality seeking to avoid the vengeance of the Conservatives, -while their forces were so demoralized and scattered that she might hope -to reach Guanapila, which was then occupied by a patriot guard, before -the tide of the war should turn and bring the army of the Church again -to the fore en masse,—collected by the clarion cry of fanaticism, and -lavishly rewarded from the hoards of silver and gold drawn from the -vaults into which for generations had been drained the prosperity and -the very life-blood of the peasantry. - -Ashley Ward had been struck with admiration of the woman who thus dared -the dangers of the road,—to which she had been no stranger. He had felt -something of the chivalrous enthusiasm of a knight of old, as he joined -the irregular band which by daylight had gathered upon the sandy plain -before the straggling village. The soldiers had fallen into march with -something like order, with Ruiz at their head,—for once with an anxious -face, for he felt that the die was cast, and that he had raised up for -himself an enemy whom it would be mad temerity to face, and hopeless to -attempt to conciliate. The baggage-mules were driven by the -leathern-clad muleteers, who even thus early had begun their profane -adjurations to the nimble-footed beasts, that listened with quivering -ears thrown back in obstinate surprise at every unwonted silence. The -women who had come from other villages had laughed and chided their -unruly infants, as they arranged and rearranged their baskets of maize -and vegetables upon the panniers of their donkeys, if they were -fortunate enough to possess any, or upon their own shoulders if they -were to walk; and those who were for the first time leaving their -birthplace to follow the fortunes of husband or sweetheart, had burst -into loud lamentations. Ashley had been glad to find these changed to -laughter, however, before they were well past the broken wall of the -reduction-works; which they skirted, entering upon the bridle-path which -led across the hill, where the rough heaps of sand showed through the -scattered cacti, and where, by the rude wooden crosses, he now for the -first time learned lay the village graveyard. - -Pepé had ridden sullenly by his side. He had been sent back with a sharp -reprimand from the station he had taken among the mounted servants who -surrounded the carriage of Doña Isabel, Ruiz in petty tyranny refusing -him so honorable a place. A glance from Chinita had been the deepest -reproof of all; and as he pondered upon it, certain words which she had -uttered, and which he had hitherto forgotten, had come into his mind. As -they neared the graveyard his eye caught Ward’s, and suddenly laying his -hand upon the bridle of the American’s horse, he had muttered,— - -“Señor, she thinks I have forgotten all her wishes; but there is not -even one so foolish that I scorn it. Turn aside but for a moment, -Señor,—here where the adobe has fallen, your horse can scramble through -the wall. Follow me, they will not miss us before we can reach our -places again. _Caramba!_ Don Fernando watches me as a cat watches a -mouse. Here, Señor,—never mind the women. Stupids! how they herd their -donkeys together, when they might have the whole hillside to pick their -own paths on! Patience! Let us wait a little, Señor! Ah,” he reflected, -as they remained silent and motionless, “there is the spot. I have never -forgotten it since I followed her through the rushes down there by the -stream, and scratched my face in the tuñas, darting behind them that she -should not see me. I was not half so tired as Chinita was though, when -she sat down to rub sand upon her smarting hands, and fell asleep with -the sun beating upon her head. I wonder if she ever thought it was I who -covered her face with her ragged reboso,—she wears one of silk now, as -clean and soft as a dove’s breast,—or that I lay behind the big pipes of -the flowering organ-plant as she turned over the fallen cross which her -hand struck against, and read the name and age of the American who had -been murdered years before? Who ever would have thought—for I hated her -then if I did follow her, as she maddens me now with her soft eyes and -her mocking smile—that I should be bringing here the man who perhaps is -just the handsome, woman-maddening demon they say that other was, and at -her will too? _Ave Maria Purissima!_ what God wills the very saints -themselves may not say No to,—much less a poor peasant like Pepé Ortiz.” - -These thoughts, perhaps scarcely in the order in which they are set -down, passed through the mind of Pepé, as lingering until the straggling -procession had passed, he emerged from the shade of such an organ-plant -as had once sheltered him years ago, and taking his bearings with -unerring eyes, beckoned to Ashley,—who had waited within touch of his -hand, and whose heart had begun to beat suffocatingly, though he knew -that it was utterly improbable that anything more important than the -mound that covered the body of his cousin would meet his eye,—and led -the way to the most wind-swept and desolate portion of that paupers’ -acre, and presently stooping where the ground was sunken rather than -heaped, turned with some effort the half-buried cross, and exposed to -Ashley’s view the name from which his own had been derived. - -The young man gazed at it in a sort of fascination, actually spelling -the letters over and over. He felt as if a part of himself must be -buried there. His eyes burned; the glaring sunshine leaped and quivered -above the ill-carved letters, distorting and confounding them. His heart -beat violently; every sense but that of hearing seemed to fail him, and -every sound upon the air became a weird, mysterious voice,—blood crying -unto its kindred blood. - -This deep emotion fixed the indifferent and wandering eye of Pepé, who, -holding the bridles of the horses, stood near, impatient to be gone, yet -intending to watch out of sight the last stragglers; for it was with a -double purpose he had turned aside to point out the grave of the -American,—first, perhaps, to gratify the seemingly jesting wish of -Chinita; and then to seize the opportunity to turn his fleet steed into -the narrow bridle-path which led to mountain villages, where he shrewdly -suspected Pedro might be found, or at least be heard of. He had promised -to carry the message of Chinita to Pedro, and would have set forth upon -the very night she had charged him with it, but until mounted by Ruiz’s -command had found it impossible to provide himself with a horse, without -which it was hopeless for him to attempt his quest. To escape the -discipline of the ranks, he had induced Ashley to retain him as his -servant, feeling no scruple at his intended abandonment. As his eye -rested upon the pale and excited countenance of Ashley, Chinita’s words, -with which she had bade him taunt him, flashed into his mind; yet he -forbore to utter them, saying presently in a tone of concern,— - -“Let us go now, Señor, it is growing hot. It is almost noon, and you are -faint. Let us ride on, and I will point out the way that you must take -when we have crossed the face of the hill. Then comes a slight descent, -Señor, and upon the little plain that lies between that and the cañon of -the Water-pots will the troop stop for the nooning. This has been a -rapid march. Doña Isabel will feel all the safer when she is once on the -highway. But as for us, Señor, we must part company. You will find a -better servant; I should but ill serve your grace. You know yourself I -am but a stupid fellow, and it is only the patience of your grace that -has been equal to my ignorance.” - -Ashley heard neither the excuses of Pepé nor his own praises, but with a -gesture at once commanding and entreating the servant to leave him, -said: “Pepé, I had forgotten. There is something which will keep me -still at Tres Hermanos. The Señora Doña Isabel must pardon me. Go! go to -your duty, as I must to mine. God! how could I have forgotten it? Oh -John, John! does time and distance make men so unnatural? Is it possible -I could leave the place where you were so foully murdered, without -knowing why or by whom? Who killed him, and why was the deadly and -secret blow struck? Ah, that involves the question of the very mystery I -came here to fathom, and which I was turning my back upon; for I am -convinced that it is here, and not by following Doña Isabel Garcia, that -it may be solved. She is too resolute, too astute; nothing is to be -forced or beguiled from her lips! But now that the spell of her presence -is removed, I may learn everything from these people, who with all their -cunning and clannish devotion can surely be influenced by reasons such -as I can give.” - -“Who would have guessed the sight of a grave would so stir the blood?” -soliloquized Pepé. “Can it be that Chinita—But no, she was more in jest -than earnest; she always laughed at the _niña_ Chata for her sorrow for -the foreigner.—Well, all must die!” he said aloud. “Believe me, Señor, -after all these years a knife-thrust is a little matter to inquire into. -_Caramba!_ Chinita herself would tell you that to turn back on a journey -because of the dead is an omen of evil; ’twas not for that she would -have me show you the grave of your countryman,—God rest him!” - -Ashley looked at him keenly. “Ah,” he said, “it is then no accident that -you have brought me here? God! what a mystery! Pepé, tell Chinita I know -her thoughts, and that I never will rest till I prove them right or -wrong. She is a strange creature, and likely to prove an enigma to more -men than myself. Poor lad, she is not for you to dream of.” - -“I will not see her again till I can tell her that which shall please -her,” said Pepé. “Look you, Señor, she is one who will have the world -turn to suit her.” - -“A wilful girl,” thought Ashley, with judicial disapproval. “She has all -the craftiness and deceit of the Indian and the pride and passion of a -Spaniard; yet what if I should follow her? No, no! mere circumstance and -conjecture shall not turn me!—_Adios_, Pepé,” he said aloud, “and -beware! It is Doña Isabel you serve, and not the young girl who has -bewitched you.” - -Pepé smiled vaguely; his glance roved over the landscape. “Her heart is -virgin honey in a cup of alabaster!” he murmured. Ashley was becoming -accustomed to the poetic expressions of these unlettered rancheros, and -with some impatience took in his own hand the bridle-rein of his horse, -and reminding Pepé that it was nearly noon, and that he would be missed -should he longer delay, bade him mount and hasten with messages of -excuse to Doña Isabel for his own sudden return to Tres Hermanos. - -With the customary apparent submission of a peasant, Pepé prepared to -obey. He was in fact anxious to set forth as soon as he could be certain -that no straggler was near to mark his movements. The troops and their -followers had disappeared. “The Señor Don ’Guardo should leave this -solitary spot on the instant,” he said with genuine concern; “in these -days of revolution, one can never say what dangerous people may be -wandering abroad.” - -“I have nothing to fear from them,” answered Ashley, “unless it should -be that they might attempt to rob me of the horse Doña Isabel has lent -me. Well, for its sake, I will be prudent; though in truth the sight of -a ghost in this desolate spot of sunken graves would seem more probable -than that any living being should pass here. Now, then, good-by, Pepé.” - -“Until our next meeting, Señor!” replied Pepé, gravely lifting his hat. -He had attached himself to Ashley, and it seemed to him an evil omen -that they should part at a grave, and he thus attempted to console -himself by the pretence that it was but for a little while. “For a short -time Señor, and God keep you!” - -Ashley shook his hand warmly. The ranchero drew his hat over his eyes, -adjusted his serape so that his face was almost hidden, and dropping -into that utterly ungraceful posture into which the skilled horseman of -Mexico relapses when he suffers his steed to take his own way and pace -across a wearisome stretch of country, he turned his horse’s head toward -the bridle-path they had left, and slowly receded from Ashley’s gaze. -Once however beyond the crest of the hill, the rider’s eye brightened, -his figure straightened; a distant sound of voices reached his keen -ear,—it was so remote that but for the rarity of the atmosphere it would -have failed to reach him. Bending his head, he listened intently for a -moment; then raising it he gazed searchingly on every hand, rode for a -short distance to the right, guided his nimble-footed beast down the -cleft sides of a deep ravine and along the dry bottom of a rock-strewn -path, which rapid floods had in some past time cut in their fierce -descent from the steep sides of the frowning mountains, and so gradually -gained the dark and solitary defiles that led directly to those eyries -of bandit mountaineers, who under the guise of shepherds, -charcoal-burners, and goat-herds had been, as Pepé well knew, the chosen -comrades of Pedro Gomez and his mates in the boyhood days of that Don -Leon whose wild deeds were still the theme of many a tale, and like the -story of his death became more mythical with every repetition. - -Pepé rode steadily on for hours, picturing to himself his meeting with -Pedro should he find him, or the quiet exultation of Chinita when she -should hear that he had deserted the troops, or of the return of Don -’Guardo to the hacienda. In his heart he was not displeased that the -American should be separated from Chinita, though it left her the more -completely to the gallant care of Ruiz. He had comprehended instantly -the emotion which had seized upon Ashley at his kinsman’s grave,—the -instinct for revenge. He said to himself that those Americans, after -all, were people of sensibility, and he felt a certain satisfaction that -he had been the instrument of calling into action a sentiment that did -the foreigner so much credit. - -Meanwhile the heat of noon passed, and Ashley’s horse stood with patient -dejection in the shadow of the huge cactus to which he had been -tethered, not even taking advantage of the freedom allowed by the length -of the rope, so little temptation to browse was offered by the sparse -and coarse tufts of herbage which struggled into existence here and -there. The time wore on, and an occasional stamp attested his -disapprobation of a master who lay prone upon the ground under a -mesquite tree when the sun shone hottest, and who when the cool breeze -of afternoon swept over the silent spot, stood long and still beside the -grave he had not sought, and yet felt infinite reluctance to leave. - -It was a foolish thought, but as he gazed across the broad valley to the -great square of buildings set among the fields, the youth imagined how -indeed the dead man might at times steal forth to visit again those -fertile scenes where he had lived and loved. As he stood there, Ashley -could see the people like pigmies passing in and out the great gateway, -or going from hut to hut in the village. There was one figure—it seemed -that of a woman—which his eye sought from time to time, as it appeared -and disappeared in the corn and bean fields, and at last came out on the -open road that lay between them and the reduction-works. He was becoming -quite fascinated by its hesitating yet persistent progress, when he was -startled by a sound; and glancing up, he saw a man leaning upon the -crumbling wall and regarding him with a gaze so bewildered, so fixed, -that involuntarily he moved a step toward him. - -The stranger started, as if some frightful spell had been broken. Ashley -saw that he crossed himself, and muttered some invocation; yet that he -had not the look of a nervous man or a coward, but rather of a -somnambulist pacing the earth under the impulse of some horrible dream. -The man was not ill-looking,—no, decidedly not; and though his skin was -deeply browned as if from much exposure, and his cheek bones were -prominent, giving his face a certain cast below the eyes that was -plebeian or Indian in character, the eyes themselves were dilated and -brilliant, and the straight nose and pointed beard gave him the air of a -Spanish cavalier, though he wore the broad sombrero and serape of a -common soldier of the rural order. Perhaps on ordinary occasions even a -more practised eye than that of Ashley Ward would have accepted the -stranger for what he purported to be; but the American with an -extraordinary feeling of repulsion little accounted for by the mere -sense of intrusion caused by the man’s unexpected appearance, at once -leaped to the conclusion that his dress—though he had no appearance of -strangeness in it—was virtually a disguise, and that instead of a -soldier of the ranks, the man before him was of no ordinary position or -character. - -The new-comer seemed to have risen out of the ground, so stealthily had -he approached. It would have been quite possible for him, tall as he -was, to have skirted the wall without observation from any one within -the enclosure. But undoubtedly he had taken no precaution in that -solitary place, which except at funeral times was shunned as the haunt -of ghosts and ill-omened birds and reptiles, and thus had come -unexpectedly upon the motionless figure of the tall young man clothed in -a plain riding-suit of black, with bright conspicuous locks at the -moment uncovered, and fair-skinned face of a characteristic American -type,—all unremarkable in themselves but associated in the mind of the -observer with one whom he had seen but twice or thrice, and this on the -mad night when the moon had shone down upon a victim quivering in the -death-agony above which he had exulted. - -The two men held each the other’s gaze in silence for a full minute, -both unmindful of the common courtesy usual in such chance encounters in -solitary places. Then recovering from the superstitious awe which had -overpowered him, the Mexican stepped over the broken wall. Ashley -noticed as he did so that heavy silver spurs were on his heels, and that -the fringed sides of his leathern trousers were stained as though with -hard riding, and that, as if from habit, rather than any purpose of -menace, his nervous hand closed upon the pistol in his scarlet band, as -with a few long strides he reached the spot on which Ashley stood with -that air of defiance which a sudden intrusion upon a solitude however -secure naturally arouses in a man who is neither a coward nor an adept -in the self-command that is perhaps the most perfect substitute for -invincible courage. - -“Señor,” said the Mexican, “your pistols are on your saddle. You are -right; this is an evil habit to wear them so readily at one’s side. -Pardon me if in my surprise I assumed an attitude of menace; but these -are troublous times. One scarcely expects to find a cavalier alone in -such a place.” He looked around him with a smile, which did not hinder a -quiver of the lip expressing an excitement which his commonplace words -denied. - -Ashley regarded the speaker with ever increasing repugnance. It was true -his pistols hung from the saddle, but there was a small knife in his -belt, and his hand wandered to it stealthily as he answered: “Señor, I -make no inquiry why you are here, and on foot,—which you must -acknowledge might well cause some curiosity in this place; but in all -courtesy I trust your errand is a happier one than mine. Whatever it is, -I will not intrude upon it longer than will suffice to plant this -cross.” And with an air of perfect security, yet with his knife in hand, -he bent to the work, which the other regarded with an almost incredulous -gaze,—the preservation of a grave or its tokens being a sort of -sentimentality to which by tradition and training he was a stranger; and -to see it exhibited for the first time in this God’s acre of laborers, -almost sufficed to dissipate the impression the unexpected encounter had -made upon him. As Ashley quietly pursued his work, the new-comer had an -opportunity to look at him narrowly. After all, this one was like many -another American! Yet there was something in the young man’s appearance -that brought the sweat to the brow of the soldier; he pushed back his -hat, and breathed hard. As he did so, Ashley braced the cross against -his knee. The action brought the letters into clear and direct view. The -eyes of the Mexican rested upon them. He fell back a step or two in -superstitious awe, involuntarily exclaiming: - -“_Cristo!_ was _he_ buried here? And who are you?” - -Ashley glanced up. There was a revelation to him in the questioner’s -disordered and ashy countenance. He dropped the cross, sprang over the -grave, and seized the stranger by the right arm. “Who are you who ask?” -he cried. “What do you know of the man who is buried there?” - -“My faith! you are a brave man to put such questions!” retorted the -new-comer, wrenching himself free. Ashley had spoken in English, but the -violence of his act had interpreted his words. “Take your pistols and -defend yourself, if you are here for vengeance. Kill him? Yes; I killed -him as I would a dog. Faith, I thought it was his accursed ghost that -had risen to challenge me!” - -“I am his cousin! Assassin, give me reasons for your deed!” cried -Ashley, furiously, yet with a remembrance that to every criminal should -be allowed some chance of justification. - -But the Mexican seemed little inclined to profit by it. - -“Reasons!” cried he. “Yes, such reasons as I gave him when I thrust the -knife into his heart.” He raised his pistol and fired. The shot passed -so close to Ashley’s temple that he heard it whiz through the air. In -the same instant the two men clinched. The horse, which during the -controversy had plunged and reared madly, broke away, and careering over -the graves galloped wildly down the hillside. A fresh horse with its -rider at the same instant dashed into the enclosure, and a voice cried, -“For God’s sake my General! what adventure is this? Mount! mount! there -is no time to be lost!” - -The combatants at the sound of a third voice had involuntarily paused. -Had the knife in the hand of the American been in that of the Mexican it -would have sheathed itself in his opponent’s heart; but Ashley, less -ready in its use, arrested his hand midway. His passion half spent, the -scarcely healed wound throbbing in his shoulder, his strength exhausted, -he had much ado to keep himself from staggering. - -“A touch of my sabre would finish him,” said the new-comer coolly, as he -reined in his restive horse, and put his hand on the long weapon -swinging from his saddle. But the soldier stopped him. - -“No killing in cold blood,” he exclaimed. “’Tis a madman, but his fury -is over. What brings you here, Reyes? Were you not to wait at the -rendezvous?” - -“Wait!” he retorted, “this is no time to wait! We are already a day too -late. A thousand men are on the road before us, my General! We let them -pass us this morning as we lingered on the opposite side of the mountain -in the Devil’s gate!” - -“And the troops are there still?” cried the other furiously. “Where is -Choolooke? Did you not think to bring me a horse? Back to the Zahuan, -man! We must begin the march this very night. I know Ruiz; he will yield -in a moment at sight of me!” - -“Not he!” answered Reyes. “He has a new patroness; Doña Isabel herself -is with him.” - -“Isabel!” cried the officer with an oath. “Ah, then, Tres Hermanos is -partisan at last! _Carrhi!_ my lady Isabel shall find what she has begun -shall be soon ended!” He put a small silver whistle to his lips and blew -a shrill blast, which was answered by a neigh. A black horse lifted its -head and looked over the wall with a gaze of almost human intelligence. - -“He followed me at a word,” exclaimed Reyes, “and stood by the wall like -a statue when I bade him. Never was there such another horse as your -black Choolooke, my General. Even the stampede of that unbroken brute -that was tethered here could not startle him.” - -“Ay, I discipline horses better than I do men,—eh, Choolooke?” The horse -with its jingling accoutrements had cantered into the enclosure, and -with one bound his owner was in the saddle. - -All had passed in the few minutes in which Ashley was recovering breath, -and in utter bewilderment endeavoring to gain some insight into the -meaning of this rapid transformation scene, of which he himself had -formed a part. As his late opponent sprang into the saddle, he could -have fancied he heard the sound of the bugle, so alert were the man’s -movements, so soldierly his bearing. But in the midst of his involuntary -admiration he did not forget the extraordinary relations in which they -stood to each other. He threw himself before the horse at the imminent -risk of being trampled down. “Your name!” he cried. “By your own -admission you are my cousin’s murderer. We must meet again! I am Ashley -Ward; and you?” - -“Out of the way!” cried the rider, checking his horse by a dexterous -turn of his hand. “My name? Ah, yes! Tell them there,” and he nodded in -the direction of the hacienda, “they will soon have reason never to -forget it!” He hesitated; plunged the spurs into his already impatient -steed, and dashed furiously away, followed by Reyes; then rose in his -stirrups to shout back in defiance the name—“Ramirez!” - - - - - XXXI. - - -Ramirez! Ashley’s heart bounded, his brain throbbed dizzily yet acutely. -Here was no obscure assassin, who once escaping him would perhaps be -lost forever. - -The name was on every lip with those of Juarez, Ortega, Degollado, -Miramon, and a score of other popular chieftains who of one party or -another, or of independent factions, attracted to themselves a host of -followers, more by their own personal magnetism than for the sake of any -principles they represented. In that time of anarchy any head that rose -above the common herd led enthusiastic multitudes, who followed a nod -and applauded to the echo even one deed of daring. But Ramirez held his -prestige by no such recent and uncertain tenure; throughout the long -years of revolution he had been a central figure in the bloody drama. -Even his recent defeat at El Toro and his subsequent disappearance had -added but a fresh glamor of mystery to his adventurous career, without -detracting from the almost superstitious awe with which he was regarded. -It was believed that he would reappear when and where least expected. -Ashley Ward had smiled covertly at the strange and daring escapades -attributed to this man. He had become in his mind a figure of romance; -and here in the broad day he had risen before him, the self-denounced -murderer of John Ashley,—and as suddenly as he had come, so had he -escaped him. - -Thinking no more of the cross, which had fallen upon the ground, hiding -beneath it the name that had been so long preserved for so strange a -purpose, Ashley Ward turned from the sunken graves and striding across -the mounds, scarred and broken by the sacrilegious tread of the horses’ -feet, stood for a moment upon the broken wall, scanning the country in -his excitement for some sign of the desperate men who but a few moments -before had urged their restive steeds up the steep path and disappeared -over the crest of the hill. He saw his own recreant steed galloping -toward the hacienda walls, keeping the high-road, on past the -reduction-works and the long stretch of open country beyond, and -plunging and rearing at the fatal mesquite-tree. The superstitious -vaqueros had instinctively imbued their animals with the same irrational -terrors in which they had themselves been trained. Yet no sight of ghost -or smell of blood lingered there to rouse memory or vengeance. Their -waiting-place had been that long-forgotten grave upon the desolate -hillside. - -Ashley leaped from the wall and rapidly began the descent to the valley. -The sun was still high in the heavens, for the scene we have recorded -had passed in less than a brief quarter of an hour. As he walked on, -gradually falling into a more natural pace, the whole matter took -definite form and coherence in his mind. That which had been so -unexpected, so unnatural, seemed to be the event to which his whole -journey to Mexico, all his wanderings, his strange and wearisome -experiences, had inevitably and naturally tended. And then arose a point -beyond. His work at Tres Hermanos seemed ended; the primal cause of his -being there was forgotten. The definite thought now in his mind was to -reach the hacienda, provide himself anew with horse, guide, and arms, -and follow on the path which Ramirez had chosen, and upon which he would -sooner or later re-appear, decoyed by the rich booty that Doña Isabel -had intrusted to the weak and presumably faithless Ruiz. Could he reach -and warn her in time? - -Ashley’s scarce-healed wound was throbbing painfully, the way was long, -the heat intense; yet he pressed on resolutely, though at last he -staggered as he went. He sat down to rest awhile among the dry rushes of -the spent watercourse, under a straggling cottonwood-tree, the few poor -leaves of which scarcely sufficed to shade him from the fierce rays of -the sun. A fever heat was in his veins; wild theories and speculations -passed through his brain,—some of them, perhaps, not far from being keys -to the mystery of that tragedy which that day for the first time had -become to his mind other than a vague and gloomy fantasy. Now, like the -murderer himself, it was real, absorbing, appalling. - -The young man rose and again pressed on. After the descent to the long -rude wall of the reduction-works, he skirted it slowly, thinking as he -went how changed the aspect of the place must be since his cousin had -ridden forth to his death. How proudly John had written, and almost -vauntingly, of the prosperity his management had inaugurated, of the -crowds of laden animals that passed in and out of the wide gates, of the -men who led their slow, laborious lives among those primitive mills and -wide floors of trodden ores. - -Ashley glanced at the great square mass of walls and towers of Tres -Hermanos, glistening in the distance. To his weary eye it looked far -away; yet doubtless he thought it had been but the ride of a few eager -minutes to the lover, as he went at midnight to cast a glance at the -walls that circled his mistress, or to rein his horse beneath her window -that he might win a word or glance from her who whispered from above. -These, Ashley had heard, were lovers’ ways in Mexico; he did not know -that no maiden of Tres Hermanos ever occupied one of the few apartments -whose windows opened toward the outer air. Yet as he debated the matter -with himself, it became more and more probable to him that John Ashley -had upon the fatal night been actually within the walls of the hacienda, -and been stealthily followed thence by his treacherous rival,—for what, -he thought, even to a Spaniard, could justify so foul a murder but the -falseness of his mistress, the triumph of a hated rival? Pedro’s -taciturnity and gloom Ashley construed as proofs of his complicity in -the crime. Even then Ramirez had been a chieftain of renown, and Pedro -in his youth had been a soldier, a free rider, of whom strange tales -were told. Was it not probable that he had opened the gate at a -comrade’s bidding,—or, more likely still, had bidden him wait beneath -the tree where the favored lover was wont to mount his horse, and so -take him unawares? Ashley remembered that such, it had been said, had -been the manner of his cousin’s taking off. He had been slain with the -swiftness and sureness of a secret and unhesitating avenger. - -The ardent youth railed at the mocking chances that had combined to -suffer Ramirez to escape him in the unpremeditated struggle in which -they had clinched with a deadly enmity. In such a struggle he could have -found himself the victor without remorse, or could have died without -regret; but it was not in his nature to follow a man for blood. Yet -neither could he shut his ears to that cry for vengeance, for justice, -which seemed ringing through the sultry stillness,—the more importunate -as the possibilities of their attainment shaped themselves in his mind. - -That this must be a personal matter between himself and Ramirez was -clear. At any time it would probably have been useless for an alien to -have denounced so popular and influential a man as the proud and daring -_revolucionario_. To attempt his arrest for a murder committed years -before and probably in rivalry for a lady’s favor, would be but to throw -a new mystery about him, and add a fresh legend of romance to those -which already made him rather a character of ideal chivalry than of mere -vulgar, every-day lawlessness and semi-barbarity. Though the brilliant -adventurer was now under a temporary cloud, one threat of attack from -law would make him again a popular idol; indeed it was likely that a -_pronunciamiento_ in his favor would be the immediate result, and that -in falling into his hands the American would lose, if not his life, at -least all opportunity either of obtaining the satisfaction of the law -for his cousin’s death, or of investigating further those doubts and -probabilities which he had forgotten, but which now came upon him with -redoubled force. - -The excited Ashley planned in his mind to refresh himself upon reaching -the hacienda, and demanding horse and guide to set forth upon that very -night, hoping to rejoin the force at daybreak. It was useless, he -reflected, to waste further time in idle questionings. It was to Doña -Isabel herself he would appeal, and warning her of the danger that -threatened her from the bandit chieftain, induce her to make common -cause with him against one who for years must have been their common -enemy. Impossible was it for him to solve the mystery of the relations -in which the several actors in this strange drama in which he was so -unexpectedly taking part, stood either to one another, or to himself. -There was but one fact certain; by that alone he could connect himself -with beings who seemed almost of another world,—the one undoubted fact -of the discovery of John Ashley’s murderer. - -Ashley’s ready apprehension of the public mind had been helped by what -he knew to be the actual state of affairs in the ranks to which Doña -Isabel had intrusted the safety of her person, trusting to the resources -which were at her command, and to the present ascendency of Gonzales, to -bind those soldiers of fortune to the cause she had espoused. Perhaps -none knew better than she the elements that an alluring chance of gain -or a transient enthusiasm had drawn together; but she could not know how -near the fire lay to the straw, and how at her very side were those who -in the name of patriotism—or, like Chinita, for a personal sentiment as -unexplainable as it was imaginative and ardent—would sacrifice her -dearest plans, and think it a grand and noble deed to raise the -ubiquitous and dashing Ramirez upon the fall of the slow and cautious -Gonzales. Ashley had imperfectly comprehended the scheme or its -bearings; he had little understood, and felt but little interest in, -those strange complexities and personalities of Mexican politics; but -now a sudden party zeal and horror of treason seized him. Where was -Pedro Gomez, who, having played traitor once, might do so a hundred -times more? Where was Pepé? Had he rejoined the troops, or had the -detour to the graveyard been but a clever plan for eluding them? Were -these, and perhaps Ruiz too, the tools of Ramirez? Yet the latter had -appeared to have ridden far; the news of the gathering and departure of -the troops had appeared to have astounded as much as it had enraged him. -Who had carried the news to Reyes? - -The way was long and the youth’s excitement waning; his recent illness -and still aching wound began to declare their effects. In his full vigor -Ashley Ward would have found the walk under the glaring sunshine—which, -though no longer vertical, was fierce and blinding as it neared the -western hilltops—more than he would have chosen for an afternoon’s -stroll. Weak as he was, and becoming painfully conscious that he had -fasted since morning, he was glad to lean sometimes against the high -adobe wall and measure with his eye the slowly decreasing distance. It -was a landmark on his way when he caught sight of the heavy gate set in -the wall of the reduction-works; he knew then just how much farther he -must go. He had no thought of actually approaching it, but he noticed -with surprise that one heavy valve was slightly ajar; and with that -sudden collapse which is apt to assail the overtasked frame at the -unexpected sight of an open door, however meagre the entertainment it -may suggest, he dragged himself onward with the natural belief that he -should find within some servant or attaché of the great house. But when -he reached the gate and looked through the narrow aperture, a perfect -stillness reigned within. No horse stamped in the courtyard; no spurred -heel rang on the pavement. Great cacti were pushing their gaunt and -prickly branches into the narrow space, as if stretching longing arms -out into the wide world from which they had been so long shut in. - -With some effort Ashley thrust back the strong and aggressive barrier, -and forced his way in. Rank grass, which was at that season yellow and -matted, had grown up between the cobble-stones, and raised them in -little heaps, over which the lizards ran. One—fiery red—stopped as -Ashley’s boot-heel woke the echoes, and turned a wondering ear, then -glided swiftly on. - -Between the main building and the offices there was a small arched -lobby, through which one entered the great court, upon which piles of -broken ores and the long dried masses were spread. In this lobby in the -olden time the workmen had been stopped by the watchman or gatekeeper -and searched,—a proceeding to which they daily submitted with -indifference, holding their arms on high while the practised searcher -ran his hands over their thin and scanty garments, shook out the coarse -serape and tattered sombrero, peered among the rows of glistening teeth -and under the tongue, for those fragments of rich ore or amalgam which -in spite of all precautions, or by the connivance of the searcher, -reached the outer world, netting in the aggregate a considerable surplus -to the income of the laborers, which found its way to the gambling -tables, or was spent in the adornment of their wives,—as was proved by -the great decline in the village of the manufacture of filagree -ornaments of quaint and delicate designs upon the closing of the Garcia -mining-works. - -Ashley, with a feeling of curiosity or a sense of impending action, -which renewed his strength as a tonic might have done, noticed that the -door upon the side of the lobby that opened into the main building or -living rooms was also ajar. He glanced in, but except where the long ray -of light stole in through the aperture, which his person partially -obscured, all was so dim that he saw only imperfectly a few scattered -articles of furniture,—and they appeared to be so old and battered that -they were scarce worth the protection which the great padlock and rusty -key, hanging from a staple in the door, indicated had been afforded -them. - -With a feeling of awe, Ashley remembered that his cousin must have -lived, and perhaps had lain dead, in that room. With nervous energy he -thrust open the door, and the light streamed in. He started as his eyes -fell upon the floor. It was of large square bricks, thickly spread with -the dust of many years, but impressed with footprints so blurred that, -dazzled as his eyes were, he could not tell whether they were those of -man, woman, or child. They seemed mysterious, ghostly. There was no -sound of human presence. His heart beat as it had not done in all the -excitement of that day. - -“I am here! I have been waiting as you bade me,” said a low, frightened -voice. The words came so unexpectedly that Ashley scarce understood -them. He stepped forward and glanced around searchingly. In the farther -corner of the room a female figure was in the act of rising from a low -seat on which it had crouched. The face was half-averted, the dark -reboso was drawn over it with the left hand, the right was outstretched -as if in supplicating, almost compulsory, welcome. - -“Good God!”—“_Dios mio!_” The ejaculations were simultaneous; the girl -sank to the floor, the young man involuntarily drew back. - -“Señorita!” he exclaimed in a voice of incredulity, “Señorita, you here -and alone?” - -“_Maria Sanctissima!_ not the General Ramirez!” he heard her moan; yet -in the fright and confusion there seemed an accent of relief. “Don -’Guardo! Oh, what has brought you here? Oh, Señor, believe me—” - -“Do not distress yourself to explain, Señorita,” interrupted Ashley, -coldly. “Rise, I beg, and I will go at once; but that you may not waste -more time in waiting, I will tell you that the man you speak of will not -be here to-day. And,” he added, with an intensity that startled even -himself, “if there is justice in heaven or upon earth, never again shall -he fulfil a lover’s tryst upon a spot that by any other than a demon -would be shunned as a scene of gentle dalliance, if not abhorred as the -theatre of a crime that should have blasted his whole life!” - -The girl threw back her head-covering and looked up in uncomprehending -amaze. As her gaze caught Ashley’s both colored, both averted their eyes -in confusion. Ashley recoiled before hers, so childlike, so honest. - -“Chata!” he murmured; “Chata!” involuntarily extending toward her his -hand in deprecation, in entreaty, in protection. She clasped it as a -frightened child might, and clinging to it rose to her feet, swaying a -little and bending low, not with weakness, but with shame. - -“I dared not disobey him,” she murmured at last. “I dared not disobey.” - -Ashley dropped her hand,—almost flung it from him. - -The girl’s face crimsoned; she opened her lips, hesitated, then clasping -her hands together, cried, “It is not as you think. Oh, rather than the -truth, would to God it were! I am not the child of Don Rafael and Doña -Rita! Jose Ramirez is my father!” - - - - - XXXII. - - -“José Ramirez is my father!” - -Had her words been a thunderbolt hurled at Ashley’s feet, they could not -have astounded him more. The daughter of Ramirez! - -“I do not believe it! I cannot believe it!” he exclaimed, with no -thought for courteous words. “Oh, that is a tale for a jealous lover! -but I am not one. Anything, anything rather than that, Señorita, would -serve to explain the reason of your presence here!” - -“Why have I spoken?” cried the young girl with tears. “Why have I broken -my promise, and only to be disbelieved and scorned? O, Señor, I know not -what it was in you that wrung the words from me! Did he not command me -to be silent till he gave me leave to speak? He is my father, yet I have -disobeyed his first command. In the letter the woman brought me, two -days after he left El Toro, and in which he commanded me to meet him -here upon this day, he enjoined secrecy again and again; and yet I -forgot. Miserable girl that I am!” - -Ashley had lived among Mexicans long enough to learn something of their -ideas of filial duty. No matter how vile, how cruel, how debased the -parent may be, the duty of the child is perfect obedience and respect; -the petted infant in its most wilful moments ceases its passionate cries -to kiss the father’s hand; the young man deprives himself, his wife and -children, to minister to his aged parents; he who cannot or will not -work, esteems it a pious act to become a bandit upon the highway rather -than that his father or mother shall look to him for food or even for -luxuries in vain,—and thus he comprehended the remorse of this -conscience-stricken child, as the conviction rushed over him that her -belief might indeed be true. There was that in the contour of her face -which resembled that of Ramirez more markedly than the mere general type -that in her babyhood had given her that resemblance to Rosario, which -daily grew less, and indeed had never been apparent to Ashley; though in -her face he had traced resemblances which had puzzled and bewildered -him, and which as he gazed upon her now became still more confusing. - -As they had been conversing, Ashley and Chata had gradually drawn near -to the door, where the light fell full upon the agitated girl. Yes, in -the square brows, the heavily fringed lids resting upon the olive -cheeks,—too broad beneath the eyes for beauty, but singularly delicate -about the mouth and chin,—so far she resembled Ramirez; or was it but a -common Aztec type? The mouth itself, sensitive, refined,—which should -have parted but for laughter,—quivered with emotion, and the large gray -eyes she lifted to Ashley’s were singularly grave and earnest. Where had -he seen such a mouth, such eyes? The contrasts and combinations in the -face confused him. Never had he seen its counterpart, yet fancy might -under other circumstances have led him upon wild theories. That face -familiar, yet strange, had haunted him since he had first seen it. -Vainly he had sought in his memory for some picture, some dream, with -which to connect it. Now, though he had seen Ramirez, though Chata -declared herself his child, the same feeling of uncertainty, of -tantalizing familiarity yet strangeness, remained; the association of -one with the other did not even momentarily satisfy him. He was not -conscious that the face appealed to his imagination rather than to his -memory, or that it had always awakened an interest different from that -with which he had looked upon others. Certainly its beauty had not -delighted him; even as he looked at her now, the witching, glowing, -ever-changing countenance of Chinita rose before him. “Strange! -strange!” he murmured. “What can be the mystery that from the first has -seemed to hover around you, to separate you from the rest?” - -“Ah, yes!” she said humbly. “I have realized that myself. Oh, for a -long, long time I have felt as a stranger among them all,—they so good, -so true; and I—O God, who am I? Ah, I used to pity Chinita, but they -have given her her proper place. It must have been a worthy one, or Doña -Isabel would not have made her her child. But when they separate me from -Don Rafael what shall I be?” - -“Do not think of it. He—this Ramirez—is gone, perhaps never to return,” -said Ashley, soothingly. “And if not, why should you go with him? Appeal -to Don Rafael, to Doña Feliz.” - -“Doña Rita has told me already that would be worse than useless,” -replied Chata. “Don Rafael and Doña Feliz have already interfered in his -plans for me; to thwart him further would be to make him their deadly -enemy. Oh, you know not, Señor, what men like Don José Ramirez will do; -and yet he is my father!” - -Her voice failed in an agony of terror and shame. Ashley’s words died on -his lips. Here was a grief he could hardly understand, against which he -could offer no advice to one whose education and mind were so different -from his own. What could he say to her to lessen the burden of her -grief? Surely not, as he would have done to Chinita, that she should -strive to content herself in a destiny which would raise her from an -obscure station to wealth,—for the revolutionary chieftain, he supposed, -had never-failing resources,—and to a certain dignity, as the daughter -of a popular hero. He could have imagined Chinita as glorying in such a -position, and Rosario as reigning with a thousand airs and graces in the -miniature court around her; but here was a child, a very child, -shrinking from the possible contact with cruel and conscience-hardened -adventurers, and stricken to the heart by the thought of losing the -heritage of an honest name. - -Presently Chata spoke again, as though to speak to this stranger in whom -she had involuntarily confided was, in spite of her self-reproach, to -lay her long repression, her doubts and fears, before a shrine. Almost -incoherently, in the rapid utterance of overwhelming excitement, she -poured forth the story of the interview of Ramirez and Doña Rita which -she had overheard in the garden at El Toro. In her earnestness she did -not even omit the project which had been discussed for uniting her -future with that of Ruiz. Ashley’s teeth became set and his lips pressed -each other as he listened. Here indeed was confirmation of the villain’s -claim; and yet—and yet— - -“It cannot be!” he interrupted. “I cannot believe it. You say yourself, -your very being recoils from him—ah, it must be for some deep cause you -hate him so! And I too—I hate him. Did I not tell you I have a long -arrear of wrong to settle, and—” - -“You!” she ejaculated wonderingly. “What wrong can he have done to you? -Was it he who robbed and wounded you?” - -“No, no!” he answered. “Those were but the chances of travel. There is -something far greater than that; but while you believe him to be your -father, I will not talk to you of avenging myself. I should be a brute -indeed to add a feather’s weight to your trouble. Do not think of that -again; but believe me, there is some mystery neither of us understands. -The truth may be far from what you think it. I will demand it of Don -Rafael, of Doña Feliz—they must know.” - -She was looking at him wonderingly, almost in awe, with those large, -clear, gray eyes, which seemed to have in them the reflection of a -purer, calmer sky than the intense and fiery one beneath which she was -born. As he looked at her, her very dress seemed a disguise, so entirely -did she seem disassociated from the scenes in which he found her. - -“Ah,” she said hopelessly, clasping her hands, “you do not know my -people as I do. I have not asked Don Rafael or Doña Feliz to tell me the -secret of my birth. They have concealed it for some weighty reason, and -until the time comes when they judge it right for me to know, I might -plead with them in vain. By going to them I should but lose their love, -and become the object of their suspicion and doubt. Oh, I could not -endure that, I would not endure it! Doña Rita is changed, is cold, -distrustful; and why should I by useless haste bring their anger upon -her? No, no, Señor, I beg, I entreat you, say nothing to Don Rafael. Let -me be in peace as long as I may. My father has not come to-day; perhaps -he has forgotten me!” - -“You reason wildly,” said Ashley. “I cannot understand these strange -duplicities; yet I know it is quite true I should gain nothing by direct -questioning. What have I ever gained? No, it is to Doña Isabel I will -go, and to Ramirez himself. But promise me, Chata,” he added earnestly, -“promise me, by all you hold most sacred, never to leave the hacienda to -meet him or any messenger of his. Promise for your own sake, and I swear -I will leave no measure untried to free you from this strange bondage.” - -He had expressed himself with difficulty throughout, but she caught his -meaning eagerly. “Oh, if I dared to promise!” she murmured. “But it is -the duty of the child to obey. Besides, he would tell me the truth; even -this very day I thought I should have known the wretched story,—oh, I am -sure it is a wretched one! Well, I have a respite,—a little respite. Go, -Señor; you have been kind,—be kind still by being silent. I must go; the -sun will soon set. Ah, unfortunate that I am, the men will be coming in -from the fields, the women will be at their doors,—how shall I ever -return without being seen?” - -Here was indeed a difficulty. The strictly nurtured girl had never in -her life been outside the precincts of the village alone; that she then -should be, and with a young man, would occasion endless gossip. The two -involuntary culprits looked at each other with blank faces,—Ashley in -absolute dismay, for he had heard of the strict requirements of Mexican -customs and etiquette, and knew to what cruel innuendo this young girl -had exposed herself. He realized then for the first time how great her -courage had been in venturing forth in obedience to the command of -Ramirez. - -“Chata, Chata! for God’s sake,” he cried, “go at once! I will remain. -Your mad freak will be pardoned this time, when they see you are alone.” - -“Alone!” she echoed, a crimson flush suffusing her face as she fully -realized the significance of his words, and saw that with a sudden -faintness he leaned against the wall, spent with excitement and fatigue. - -“Yes, yes,” he said wearily, “none will know I am here. The night will -soon pass; in the morning I will wander in to one of the huts. They will -fancy I was lost on the mountain. None will think—you will be safe.” - -“I _am_ safe,” said the girl with sudden resolution. “Would a woman of -your own country leave you to hunger and shiver through all the night in -a desolate place like this? Ah,” she added with a long-drawn breath and -a tremor, “even ghosts are here.” - -Ashley smiled. “I do not fear them,” he said. “I fear but for you. Go! -go at once! And yet before you go, promise!—promise me never to run -these risks again; never in any place to meet Ramirez!” - -In his earnestness he clasped her hand and gazed eagerly into her limpid -eyes. “I promise, yes, I promise,” she said hurriedly. “But I will not -leave you,—weak, fasting, fainting!” - -She looked up at him with the angelic pity in her face that innocent -children feel before they have learned distrust. Ashley read the perfect -trust, the perfect guilelessness, of her tender nature. Rather, he -thought, would he die than cast a cloud upon her name; and what, after -all, would matter the privations of a few hours? That he must not be -seen in the neighborhood for some time after her unusual wanderings was -a foregone conclusion. How should he combat her resolution? Truly, this -gentle girl had deep springs of action within her. For duty and right -she could be a very heroine. - -As these thoughts passed through his mind, a sudden breeze stole through -the open gate and reached the lobby; there was a faint smell of cactus -flowers, and a rustle of the dry grass. The effect was weird and -ghostly. A shadow fell between them. Had the sun plunged down beneath -the western hills? They glanced up and started apart,—Doña Feliz was -before them. - -The ordinarily grave and self-possessed woman was for a moment the most -agitated of the three. She gasped for breath. She had been walking fast, -but it was not that alone which caused the earth apparently to reel -beneath her. She had found Chata, whose disappearance from the hacienda -she had discovered at the moment when a cry had run through the house -that the horse of the young American had returned riderless; that the -youth had doubtless met an evil fate. She had found them both,—and -together! - -She pressed her hands over her eyes as though to shut out some horrid -vision; a moan broke from her lips,—then she caught Chata in her arms -and glared at Ashley with concentrated anguish and fury. Had one guilty -thought possessed him, or had he meditated a doubtful act, her glance -would have covered him with confusion. As it was, he read in her -expressive face and gesture a volume of deep and terrible significance, -far different from that which an anxious duenna ordinarily casts upon -the imagined trifler with the affections of her charge. Nothing of that -assumption of virtuous indignation, yet of flattered satisfaction, which -in the midst of remonstrance gives indication of a certain sympathy and -inclination to condone the offence in consideration of its cause, was -apparent. Doña Feliz evidently had in her mind no lover’s venial -follies. This meeting was to her a tragedy,—the very culmination of -woes. - -Ashley read something of this in her expression and gesture, and -hastened to reassure her, by giving a partial account of the reasons of -his return. The anxious guardian of innocence would perhaps have thought -his turning aside at the instance of Pepé to view his cousin’s grave, -his lingering there, the departure of the servant, the flight of his -horse, all a fabrication, but for the meeting with his cousin’s -murderer, which the young man recounted with startling brevity and -force, unconsciously regaining in the recital much of the excitement and -deep indignation which had thrilled him at the time of the encounter, -and which had gradually subsided amid the new complications that Chata’s -words had opened before him. - -Involuntarily Ashley refrained from any allusion to the fact that the -young girl had ventured forth to meet this man Ramirez; and acute though -she was, it did not suggest itself to Doña Feliz, who seemed lost in -wonder at the almost miraculous chance which after so many years had -brought into contact the secret murderer and him whose mission it seemed -to avenge the innocent blood. In his recital, Ashley had not mentioned -the name of the self-confessed assassin. Doña Feliz did not ask -it,—perhaps she inferred that it remained unknown to him,—yet Ashley was -certain his identity was no problem to her. Had she guessed the secret -all these years? Had she screened the guilty and fostered the innocent, -at the same time? - -Deep as was her interest in his tale, full as was her acceptance of the -fact that the meeting of Ashley Ward and Chata was purely accidental, -Doña Feliz did not exhibit a tithe of that horror and dismay which was -depicted upon the countenance of Chata, who listened breathlessly,—her -lips apart, her hair pushed back, her startled eyes opened wide. Ashley -would gladly have recalled his words as he looked at her. Every particle -of color had faded from her face. - -In her absorption in Ashley’s words, Doña Feliz had ceased to regard or -even remember the young girl, who suddenly recalled herself to that -lady’s mind. - -“Doña Feliz,” she murmured in an agonized and pleading voice, “when my -mother forsook me, why did you not suffer me to die? Oh why, why did I -live to hear such horrors, to know such wretchedness as this?” - -As if in a frenzy, before either thought to stop her, or found words -with which to answer or recall her, she ran out from the lobby,—her -small figure passing unimpeded through the cactus-guarded gateway,—and -fled across the plain toward the hacienda. She was young and -strong,—excitement lent wings to her feet. Doña Feliz and Ashley -standing together in the gateway looked at each other in amazement. The -girl continued her flight until she reached the outskirts of the -village. There a horseman stopped her. Even at that distance they -recognized Don Rafael, and saw that Chata clung to him passionately when -he dismounted. - -“She is safe!” murmured Doña Feliz. “Rafael will know how to account for -her presence with him.” - -“Yes,” thought Ashley; “these Mexicans fortunately know how to coin a -plausible tale as well for a good cause as for a bad one.” - -They saw that Don Rafael, placing Chata on his horse before him, had -turned in the direction of the hacienda, and was signalling to the -vaqueros lingering in uncertainty at the gate. - -“They will be here in a few moments, Señor,” said Doña Feliz, calmly. -“We must lock the gates and conceal the keys. You must be found outside -of, not within, these walls.” - -Ashley assented, and within a few moments, and in silence, their -necessary task was accomplished. Doña Feliz then led the way toward the -village, walking rapidly as though impelled by the agitation of her -thoughts or a desire to escape question. Ashley kept pace with her with -some effort, though the chill which had come with the grayness of -evening over the landscape revived and strengthened him. The breeze was -whistling in the tall corn in the fields as they passed them; the cattle -were lowing in the yards; the distant sound of horses’ feet was -beginning to be heard; the riders like gray columns were seen -approaching. Ashley laid his hand upon the arm of Doña Feliz. She turned -and looked at him. His face was to her a volume of reproach and -question. Her voice broke forth in a great sob. - -“Ashley! Ashley!” she exclaimed, “do you not comprehend that a vow -stronger than death controls me? Ask me nothing, but follow the -indications which the good God—Fate—Providence—has given you. The time -may come—for strange things are happening in our land—when I may be free -once more. Now I may only watch and wait and pray. Ah! what hard tasks -for a woman such as I am! But I have vowed; I cannot retract!” - -“You are wrong!” cried Ashley. “How strange that a woman of so much -intelligence, of a conscience so pure, can suffer herself to be led by -the spurious customs and traditions that pride and priestcraft together -have fastened upon her people! But your very reticence, Doña Feliz, -confirms my beliefs. I will go as you recommend, as my own judgment -urged me, to follow the clew I have so unexpectedly obtained. Do not -think that a vulgar and wolfish desire for vengeance alone actuates me; -but justice must be done. Even for Chata’s sake, this man must not be -suffered to continue his course unchecked.” He would have added more, -but Gabriel and Pancho, the vaqueros, came galloping up with vivas and -cries of welcome. - -“Praised be our Holy Mother, and all the saints!” exclaimed one. “Don -Rafael told us you were safe. Who would have thought the Señora and the -niña Chatita would have found you no farther away than deaf and blind -Refugio’s? Ay, Doña Feliz, without seeking, finds more than will a dozen -unlucky ones, though they have spectacles and lanterns to aid them. In -the name of reason, Don ’Guardo, how happened your nag to throw you and -gallop back thus? He is manageable enough with any of us—” and there was -a suspicion of irony in the solicitude of the horseman, which did not -escape Ashley as he answered,— - -“To-morrow you shall have the whole tale. These roads of yours are no -place for a man to linger on alone. But for the present, remember I have -a wound not too well healed, and am more anxious for supper than for -recounting adventures.” - -“Ah! ah! he was stopped on the road by banditti,—and has escaped.” The -vaqueros regarded Ashley with vastly increased respect. Their numbers -were augmented as they neared the hacienda; and when the party reached -the gates, wild rumors of Ashley’s prowess were already flying from -mouth to mouth. - -Ashley did not present an imposing figure as he passed in between the -crowds of admiring women; but he served to turn their thoughts from the -unprecedented appearance of Chata, which was but unsatisfactorily -explained by Don Rafael’s ready fiction that she and Doña Feliz had been -piously visiting at the hut of old Refugio, and that upon the arrival of -Ashley there, the young girl had hastened to meet her father, and give -him news of the American’s safety. - -“Doña Feliz is even too careful of her grandchildren,” said some of the -more liberal. “What harm would have come to the maiden from a walk of a -few minutes, or a few words spoken, with an honorable young man such as -he seems to be? Now, if it were Don Alonzo, or that gay young Captain -Ruiz, for example!” - -Rosario, who had been leaning over the balcony as Ashley arrived, heard -something of what was said, and smiled. She was not at all ready to -believe that Chata’s walk had extended only as far as the hut of blind -Refugio; and that it had not been made in company with Doña Feliz she -was quite certain. But she had no time just then to interest herself in -Chata’s affairs,—her own were far too engrossing; for the new clerk whom -Carmen, at Doña Isabel’s request, had sent from Guanapila, evidently was -much more intent upon studying the charms of Rosario than his new -duties, and in seeking favor in her eyes than in those of the -administrador himself. The new clerk was Don Alonzo, and Don Alonzo was -a handsome fellow, with the face of an angel, Doña Rita said,—a contrast -indeed to that little brown monkey Captain Ruiz; and Rosario smiled -coyly, and did not gainsay her. - -The next morning at an unusually early hour this same Don Alonzo tapped -on Ashley’s door. “Pardon, Señor,” he said, “but the horses and servants -are ready, and I have orders myself to accompany you beyond the -boundaries of Tres Hermanos.” - -The announcement was not a surprise. Ashley had arranged his departure -with Don Rafael upon the preceding evening. He dressed hastily, and -while partaking of his cup of chocolate, glanced often around him, in -expectation of the appearance of Don Rafael or his mother; but in vain. -The American could no longer hope to learn at a parting moment what each -had chosen to withhold. Irrationally, and against all likelihood, he -ventured to hope that Chata might steal forth for a farewell word. He -laughed at himself afterward for the thought, saying that the air of -intrigue had begun to affect his own brain. - -Sooner than was usual, even in that land of early movement, Don Alonzo -warned him it was growing late. It was not too late or early for Rosario -to wave her little brown hand from her mother’s window in token of -adieu. Ashley did not see it, but he for whom it was intended did. So -with more foreboding and reluctance than he could have imagined possible -but a few hours before, Ashley once more rode forth from Tres -Hermanos,—this time with a definite object, from which he felt there -could be no turning back, no possible end but his own death or the -downfall of a man to whom but yesterday he had been utterly indifferent, -but who to-day was inseparable from all his thoughts, his passions, his -purposes,—Ramirez the _revolucionario_, the declared murderer of John -Ashley, the declared father of the young girl who seemed the very -incarnation of honor and sensibility, of tenderness and purity. - - - - - XXXIII. - - -The departure of Ashley Ward from Tres Hermanos was not so entirely -disregarded as he had supposed. It was not Rosario only, who left her -chamber at daybreak. Scarcely had she disappeared in the gloom of Doña -Isabel’s apartments on her way to the favorite balcony, when her father -stepped out upon the corridor, starting as his eyes fell upon Doña -Feliz, who, seemingly with the spirit of unrest that pervaded the -household, at the same moment emerged from her room. With a muttered -salutation each abandoned the original intention of exchanging a -farewell word with the departing guest; and arresting their steps at the -balustrade, they leaned over and listened intently to the sounds of the -early exit. The light was still so uncertain that though Don Rafael -noticed, he did not wonder at, the gray tinge upon his mother’s face; it -seemed only in harmony with the prevailing darkness. - -The rains of the past season had been insufficient, and a murky though -almost inpalpable mist, felt rather than seen, brooded over the silent -landscape. It was scarcely oppressive enough to affect the young men who -rode forth stirring the sluggish air, nor the eager horses lifting their -heads to fill their lungs with the breath of morning, and expelling it -again with a force that agitated the stillness with a sound like a blow -upon water; yet it weighed inexpressibly both upon the body and mind of -Don Rafael. As he had come to the corridor with a certainty in his mind -that he should meet his mother, he had purposed to question her as to -the actual occurrences of the day before, for the connection of Chata -with the return of Ashley Ward remained entirely unexplained. That his -mother was satisfied that it was not a mere vulgar _rendezvous_ into -which she had been tempted, he was assured by her manner toward both the -young man and the recreant girl; indeed, it appeared that she had -scarcely noticed an incident which in that place, and at the age of -Chata, was sufficient to array against a young girl the suspicions of -the most trusting and generous of matrons. Yet Don Rafael could imagine -no possible inducement but the voice of a lover that could have called -her forth alone from the great house,—for that Chata had gone alone, he -knew as well as did his keen-eyed daughter Rosario. - -The last gray figure had long since disappeared from the outer court, -into which they looked as into a distant and narrow vista; the clank of -the horses’ hoofs upon the paving had changed to the thud upon the -roadway, then ceased altogether to be heard; and Don Rafael turning his -eyes upon his mother’s face, had opened his lips to question her,—when -with a thrill of surprise, which became terror even before the momentary -utterance was repeated, he heard her laugh that strange, unmirthful, -hollow laugh that indicates a mind diseased, while she said -whisperingly,— - -“He is gone. Yes! yes! I unbarred the door, and Pedro picked the lock so -cleverly and noiselessly that the very watchman asleep across the -threshold did not hear him. Ah, I knew Gregorio would be quiet enough by -daylight; but Leon was awake, wide awake. For all your tears, Isabel, he -would not have gone but for me; he swore he would kill Don Gregorio for -the blow he gave him. Why did you say you loved at last as a woman -should the husband who was your brother’s foe to death, and that you -sent him freedom that he might seek a death more worthy of his villany -than by the sword of an outraged father, or the executioner’s bullet? -They were bitter words, and you knew they were false,—for even with your -child lying dead through his persecution, you loved him still. And when -he would not stir because of your taunts, but swore he would meet his -fate and shame the callous heart whose love had been as weak as her -sacrifice was forced and incomplete, what was there for you to do but to -throw yourself on your knees before him, and entreat him for his -mother’s sake to be gone? Even then he would have stayed but for me. -‘What!’ I cried, ‘to shame your sister, you will give another victory to -the husband of Dolores?’ - -“Ah, it is not tears that conquer such a man as Leon! In a moment he had -sprung to his feet; he had thrust Isabel aside, and me too,—yes, that -was nothing. Pedro held his horse, but Leon glared at him as he sprang -into the saddle. ‘But for you, I should have given the last blow at -midnight,’ he cried. ‘It shall be thine some day, when thy master’s -account has been closed!’ and with that he was gone. Yes, he is gone. -Not a sound of the horse as he gallops! Gone, and none too soon! the -morning is come,”—and she uttered again that sound called a laugh. - -“Mother, what hast thou?” cried Don Rafael, clasping her arm, and -noticing for the first time the deep hollows beneath her brilliant eyes, -and the wide circles that made more appalling their unnatural glare. -“Mother, thou art dreaming! thy hand burns, and thy temples. Maria -Sanctissima! dost thou not know me?” - -“Know thee?—yes. Why, thou art Rafael,” she answered, letting her eyes -drop for a moment on his scared and anxious face. “Why should I not know -thee? Had ever woman a better son? Yes, yes, he is safe; let Don -Gregorio wake when he will, Leon is away. Ah, at the last he was not so -cruel,—eh, Isabel? Why should you moan and wring your hands because he -vowed never again but by his death should his name shame you? Ah! Ah! -Ah! well, they say he died, shot and hanged to a tree as a miscreant -should be. Do you believe it, Isabel? Yet why not? God of my soul! is it -only the son of Pancho Vallé that can be pitiless? Only—” so she -muttered on, in a low monotonous voice, pacing the corridor with an -uncertain step, varying from the halting motion of one about to fall, to -the impetuous haste with which she fancied herself urging again the -unwilling flight of the sullen and revengeful youth, whom she too, with -the perversity of woman’s heart, had loved as sincerely as she had -condemned. - -Don Rafael followed her in a perturbation of surprise and terror, which -drove from his mind all other thoughts save those that his remembrance -of former plague-stricken seasons forced upon his mind. Fever was in the -air, and his mother was the first victim! The rainy season, which in -most years cleared the black watercourses and the village itself of the -accumulations of nine dry and almost torrid months, had failed to do its -accustomed work. No rushing torrents had cleared the watercourses; but -instead of proving the friend of humanity water had become its enemy, by -mingling scantily with the foul elements that had gathered during the -long period of drouth, and which exhaled the subtle miasma which even -the pure air of that elevated region was powerless to render innoxious. -Don Rafael absolutely wrung his hands before the evil he foresaw, and -which neither experience nor intelligence had led him to combat with any -sanitary precautions. That the fever should from time to time decimate -the _hacienda_ appeared to his mind one of the inevitable calamities of -life, no more to be avoided than the spring floods or the blasting -lightning or the outburst of volcanic fires. But had all these forces -combined assailed him at once, his consternation could not have been -greater than to witness in his mother the delirium which testified to -the dreaded typhoid. As has been intimated, his love for his mother was -of no common order; without being weak in judgment or irresolute in -character, he had been accustomed to share with her his every thought, -and their sentiments and aims were ever in such perfect accord that a -dissentient word had never arisen between them. - -As Don Rafael followed his mother in her erratic and excited movements, -scarcely conscious of what he did, or of anything except that with each -moment her talk grew more distracted, while her thoughts were -persistently fixed upon the events and woes and passions of by-gone -years, a door at the end of the corridor was timidly pushed open, and -Chata’s face peeped anxiously out. Had Don Rafael’s thoughts been free, -he would have wondered that the girl was fully dressed at such an early -hour; but he did not even heed the explanation she hurriedly gave as she -advanced to meet him. - -“I would not have left my grandmother alone, but she forbade me to -come,” she said. “Oh, I could not sleep. I thought the morning would -never dawn. I went to her with the first light, but she would not listen -to me. She bade me leave her; and I thought it was because she was -angry, but it was this! Oh, Father, is it a sickness? See, she does not -know me? _Mama grande_, it is I; it is your Chata.” - -“Be silent!” exclaimed Don Rafael, the more sharply because of his -extreme alarm. “Fly, Chata! fly to thy mother, thy sister! Call old -Selsa, any one who has sense and knows what remedies to bring. Why do -you stare? Do you think my mother is mad? It is the fever. It is not for -nothing that the rains have been delayed so long. Pitying Saints, as I -rode by the ditches last week they were black as pitch and foul as a -vulture’s quarry. Run! I will lead her to her room. Ay, ay, Mother, thou -art strong, and not so old yet,”—and with the tenderness of a child and -the devotion of a lover the son guided the steps of the delirious yet -gentle woman, who, half-conscious of her state, half-resentful of care, -suffered herself to be led into the chamber she had quitted in apparent -health but a brief quarter of an hour before. - -Apparent health only, for she had passed an utterly sleepless night, -strangely excited by the events of the day, yet unable to fix her mind -upon them. Chata, upon her return to the hacienda, had sought her own -chamber; and in the press of other thoughts Doña Feliz had failed to -follow and to question her upon the strange escapade, which the whole -character and bearing of the young girl combined to render utterly -inexplicable,—for she had no data by which to connect it with the -appearance of Ramirez at the cemetery, and she absolved Ashley Ward from -any pre-arrangement with the young girl as completely as though they had -been found a thousand miles asunder. As was natural, suspicions of some -precocious love, of which some one of the many volatile and dashing -youth that had lately gathered at the hacienda was the object, haunted -the mind of Doña Feliz; but she rejected them with disdain, promising -herself upon the early morning to demand the truth, not doubting she -should learn it. Even while awake to the importance of the incident, and -inwardly debating it, she was conscious that the remembrance of it, as -well as of Ashley and his strange participation in the life-drama in -which she had enacted so forced and painful a part, constantly strove to -elude her, and was recalled with an effort that with every hour grew -greater and less effective; while all the events and actors of long ago -passed in endless review before her,—Doña Isabel in her matronly -girlhood, soothing and bribing with tender words and lavish gifts her -wilful half-brother; Don Gregorio; the dying Norberto; the scowling and -furious abductor; then Herlinda and John Ashley. The pale procession, -spectral yet real, voiceless yet each repeating with irresistible -eloquence the tale of his love, his guilt or anguish, passed before her, -thrusting aside, as often as they re-appeared, the forms of those who at -this new and critical point had appeared upon the scene. - -As the night passed, she was perfectly aware of this tantalizing -inability to command her thoughts; and as again and again she set -herself to follow the probable course and effect of Ashley Ward’s -intervention in the fate of the man who to her seemed gifted with -demoniacal powers for evil, and an absolute invulnerability to human -vengeance, or as she began in mind to question Chata, the persons both -of the young man and the girl seemed to fade from before her, and the -voices that should have replied, were those which had been familiar -years before,—oftenest that of Herlinda in wild repetition of her -unhappy love, and agonized entreaties for the babe she was but to -embrace and forever relinquish. Through it all Doña Feliz had retained -the thought of Ashley’s departure; and with some vague thought that the -sight of him would calm her fevered brain, she instinctively strove to -accomplish the resolve with which she had begun the night. And thus her -last conscious act before the positive delirium of the fever seized her, -had been to look, with the half-fearful gaze of one who invokes yet -dreads the vengeance of heaven, upon him who seemed to her morbid and -superstitious mind fraught with a mission to avenge and right the -innocent,—both the living and the dead. - -Don Rafael, in consternation, had recognized at once the serious -character of his mother’s illness. As he called aloud for help, and -Chata with white and affrighted face hastened to obey his command, -Rosario, followed by her mother in some confusion, appeared from the -farther corridor. Too much bewildered and alarmed to wonder at seeing -his daughter also dressed and abroad at such an hour, her father -exclaimed in impatience at the voluble reproaches of Doña Rita, who, -pushing Rosario from the side of Doña Feliz, bade her cease from such -tempting of Providence, affirming that for her own sins she (Doña Rita) -must have been burdened with the plague of so reckless a child, and -praying her in the name of the Holy Babe to fly from infection lest she -should break her mother’s heart by her premature decease. To all of -which Rosario submitted with a sobbing declaration that she was already -faint and ill, whereupon Doña Rita hastily retreated to her own room, -dragging Rosario with her; and in spite of his hurriedly formed -resolution to the contrary, Don Rafael was forced to confide his mother -to the care of Chata and of the servants, who, subservient to the -slightest wish even of this inexperienced girl, were however absolutely -useless without the guiding presence of a superior. - - - - - XXXIV. - - -The hilltops were flooded with sunshine when the party from Tres -Hermanos reached them; the atmosphere was so clear, that looking back -over the broad valley, spread with fields of maize and beans, and the -half-tropical luxuriance of fruit and flower, Ashley could distinguish -every break and fret on the massive front of the great house, and -recognized with a feeling almost of awe the tall, slender figure -standing upon the centre balcony. She waved her hand in token of -God-speed. Strange, inscrutable woman! She had bidden him go forth as -the minister of fate, she had furnished him with servants, horses, -money, arms,—yet had spoken no word. Ashley felt as though he were an -enchanted knight in an enchanted land! - -The traveller bade adieu to Don Alonzo in sight of his cousin’s grave; -then, followed by his two servants, rode rapidly onward in the direction -taken the day before by the troops and Doña Isabel, by Ramirez and -Reyes,—indifferent which he first should encounter, confident that -sooner or later the full significance of the impulse that had led him -upon his Quixotic journey to Mexico would be revealed. The little cloud -no bigger than a man’s hand had grown so great as to overshadow his -earth and heavens. He rode on as in a dream. The day passed, the night -came, and the party was still alone. The guide had mistaken the way. -That night they encamped but a league from the village of Las Passas. -Ashley slept neither better nor worse for that; there was no voice to -tell him it could be more to him or his than a score of other villages -which lay in the recesses of these wild mountains. The next day he left -it to the right, and set his face toward El Toro. - -Meanwhile the march of the troops had been as rapid as the nature of the -country, broken by deep ravines and at first offering a tortuous ascent -to the table-lands, would allow. To Chinita, though the slow movement of -the carriage was irksome and irritating, and the clouds of dust that -rose from beneath the tread of the horses obscured the sights which in -their novelty delighted and filled her with exultation of a new and -expanding life, the hours passed as though winged by enchantment. In the -joyous clamor of the camp followers and the scarcely less restrained -hilarity of the troops, in the tramp of the horses, the clanking of -arms, there was a subtile music that aroused all the energies of her -adventurous spirit, and imbued her with an animation which like a flame -within a crystal vase seemed visibly to fill and surround her whole -being with strength and beauty. - -Had the country passed over been as dull and uninteresting as it was in -fact wild and picturesque, the effect of movement and change would have -been still the same to her; for hers was a mind to be affected by the -various phases of humanity rather than of inanimate nature. The -landscape in truth offered to her view little of novelty, for in her -childhood she had wandered where she listed, and her lithe young limbs -had been as untiring as her curiosity. The succeeding cañons and hills, -the slopes and cactus-planted valleys, were but counterparts of those -which she had explored on every side of the plain on which Tres Hermanos -stood. With ready tact she avoided recalling her unwatched, untended -childhood to the mind of Doña Isabel, who received with a distaste which -seemed of the nature of regretful shame any allusion to the life from -which the girl who now called her _Tia_ (aunt) had been rescued. - -The use of this appellation had been brought about by Ruiz, in his -evident uncertainty as to how the apparent relationship between his -patroness and her _protégée_ should be defined. He had tentatively -alluded to Doña Isabel as the godmother of Chinita, a designation which -some conscientious scruple led her to reject. The word _Tia_ is used by -Mexicans as a term of respect toward an elder as often as in actual -acknowledgment of relationship; and when with some daring Chinita one -day applied it to Doña Isabel, in answering some remark of the young -captain, the lady allowed it to pass unchallenged; and gradually “_mi -Tia_ Isabel” took the place of the formal “Señora,” which hitherto had -helped to keep their intercourse as reserved and cold as when Chinita -still stood at the gate at Pedro’s side, and Doña Isabel had furtively -glanced at her glowing beauty, and felt the hand of remorse pressing -upon her heart. - -The haughty lady felt it still; and that it was which made her lenient -to a score of faults in this young girl that in her own children would -have been deemed almost unpardonable. She did not admit that she loved -her,—it is doubtful if she really did,—yet she strove by all the arts of -which the long repression of her nature made her capable to win the -heart of the girl, who she saw with suspicious intuition beheld in her -one who had wronged her, and was even now withholding her birthright. -Doña Isabel bestowed rich presents, but never a caress; perhaps Chinita -would have spurned the last as lightly as she received the first. Ruiz, -admitted to a certain intimacy by the necessities of the time, was -impressed by the entire absence of any sense of obligation with which -the young girl took her place with Doña Isabel, as if she had never -known one more humble, while there was something in the cold and stately -manner of Doña Isabel which seemed to shrink before the imperious force -of character of her young companion. - -It was at their first halt that Doña Isabel had, with unexpected -hospitality, sent to invite Ruiz to share their midday meal; and, -evidently with some effort, at the same time she bade the servant extend -the invitation to the young American. Ruiz presented himself with due -acknowledgments, but Ashley was nowhere to be found: he and his servant -Pepé had disappeared from the ranks. No one remembered having seen them -since they ascended the face of the hill of the graveyard; doubtless, it -was surmised, the young man had grown weary, and had unceremoniously -returned to Tres Hermanos. - -Doña Isabel’s face clouded. Upon the next day she had hoped to part -company with her unwelcome guest forever; and now,—part of her purpose -in leaving the hacienda was already frustrated. Ruiz was scarcely less -disquieted; a glance at Chinita’s triumphant countenance confirmed his -apprehensions. Pepé, at least, had not returned to the hacienda, he was -assured. The officer had had it in his mind to have the servant strictly -watched; but it had not occurred to him that upon the first day he would -attempt to evade him and fulfil Chinita’s wild project of summoning -Ramirez. He inwardly cursed his own folly and the duplicity of Ashley, -whom he hitherto had not for a moment supposed in sympathy with the -plot. He and the young American had even laughed at it together as the -foolish dream of an imaginative girl. Now to the suspicious officer’s -apprehensions was added a burning jealousy. For Chinita’s sake the -American had doubtless made her cause his own; and with such an ally, -Ruiz reflected, it was not impossible that he might see himself -confronted by the man who he knew well never forgave a slight, never -left unrevenged an injury. - -The manner of Ruiz was so grave and abstracted that day, that Doña -Isabel was inclined to credit him with far more depth and earnestness -than as the reputed suitor of Rosario, or the airy and flippant recreant -follower of the notorious Ramirez, she had attributed to him. Ruiz had -the art of involuntarily suiting his demeanor and conversation to those -in whose company he was thrown. There was no conscious hypocrisy in -this, for the desire to please was natural to him, and often served him -in good stead in the absence of genuine feeling, and even under the -sting of wounded self-love held him silent, and masked his resentment. -Many a time in his life-long intercourse with Ramirez had he chafed -under the General’s haughty patronage and made no sign; and it was only -when he found himself thwarted in what was for the moment his strongest -passion, that he began to question the designs of the chieftain to whom -he owed all the fortune which birth or talents combine to make possible -to other men. - -Ruiz was the son of Tio Reyes, a life-long follower of Ramirez, for whom -the chieftain had been sponsor, and toward whom he had with minute -conscientiousness directed every worldly advantage which his means and -position rendered possible. To Ramirez, Ruiz—who was known by the name -of his mother (a not uncommon custom where her family renders the -cognomen more honorable than that of the father)—owed the chance which -had made him a soldier of fortune instead of a laborer in the village -where his brothers and sisters plodded and toiled, in absolute ignorance -of the father who had forsaken them. - -Ruiz’s knowledge of this strengthened his resolution to ignore the past, -and suffer no ill-timed revelations to interfere with his determination -to win at one step love and fortune by gaining the hand of the -_protégée_, of Doña Isabel,—a purpose he was certain Ramirez would -oppose, for in a moment of confidence the General had intimated that it -was to a daughter of his own, in accordance with a promise made long -years before to Reyes, that the young man was to be united; it was for -this destiny his future had been shaped, his fortunes moulded. - -At any previous time the ambition of Ruiz would have been fully -satisfied; his whole desire would have been to meet this promised bride, -and by his marriage strengthen the interest which the caprice or -affection of Ramirez alone caused to be centred upon him, and which, -though often burdensome and tyrannous, was apparently the young man’s -sole passport to success. Even when in pique and half-timorous defiance -he took advantage of his separation from Ramirez to follow Rosario to -Tres Hermanos, it was with no fixed resolution to tempt fortune alone. -His short-lived passion and his independence and anger would have died -together, had not his love for Chinita and the unexpected opportunities -thrust upon him opened before him a prospect of advancement and triumph -far above his wildest dreams, and completed his treason to his early -patron, without teaching him the lesson of truth either to the new cause -or to the mistress to which he was sworn. - -In the eyes of Doña Isabel Ruiz was but the hireling whose faith was -purchased for Gonzales; in those of Chinita, the devoted follower of -Ramirez; in his own—well, time and circumstance would decide. - -Like thousands of others who took part in the strife that rent and -decimated Mexico, Ruiz had but little conception of the points at issue. -He had simply followed the lead of the popular chieftain to whom -circumstances had attached him. He had learned by observation that -wealth flowed from the coffers of the clergy into the hands of Ramirez, -who scattered it lavishly to all about him,—dissipating the greater part -in luxurious living in cities, and the maintenance of hordes of -followers in towns and cañons of the mountains, and with ready -superstition returning much to the source whence it came, for never a -follower of his kept child unchristened or burial Mass unsaid for want -of means to purchase the services of a priest. - -Ramirez had appeared to the young imagination of Ruiz absolute and -ubiquitous. There were few daring deeds done that he had not shared in; -scarce a town been seized and its merchants arrested until the forced -loans demanded from them were paid, scarce a train of wagons laden with -silver stopped, scarce a _pronunciamiento_ with its excitement and rapid -exchange of power and property effected, that he had taken no part in. -He had been found wherever fighting or plunder were. He had taken a -bloody part in the repulse of the Liberals at the City of Mexico, where -the names of Zuloaga the President and of Miramon alike were made -infamous. He had shared in the futile attacks upon Vera Cruz, where -Juarez at the head of the Provisional Government maintained with -stubborn tenacity, with a handful of followers, the most important -stronghold upon the seaboard, promulgating those unprecedented -resolutions and decrees which revealed to the minds of the people that -of which they had never hitherto dreamed,—namely, the separation of -Church and State; the suppression of the monasteries, which like -vampires had for generations drained the resources and absorbed the -intellect of the people; and the secularization of those immense -treasures which, donated by the faithful to feed the hungry and the -sick, train the orphans, maintain the glory and worship of God, had -become the means of oppression and bloodshed, and were the thews and -sinews of the civil war, in which the clergy strove to maintain the -abuses of the past and forge fresh chains for the future. - -In a country where the dogmas of Catholicism were as the oracles of God, -where every heart was bound either by the truths or the superstitions of -Rome, or in most cases by both inseparably, the magnitude of the task -assumed by the astute and resolute Juarez was almost beyond the -comprehension of those bred in the lands which have never groaned -beneath the yoke of ecclesiastical tyranny. Any premature act, any -unguarded word, might become the cause of offence; and yet it was no -time for hesitation or timorous questioning. - -Juarez knew the time and the temper of his countrymen; and environed -though he was, virtually imprisoned in one small town upon the seashore, -his influence reached to the most remote districts of the interior. And -although the armies of the clergy swept the country from sea to sea, in -obscure fastnesses rose daring bands in tens and twenties and hundreds, -who promulgating the new promises of liberty sent forth by Juarez, -maintained them with a tenacity of purpose that made defeat impossible. -Worsted in one quarter, they arose in another, employing with -unscrupulous daring every means that cunning or audacity could bring -within their power,—claiming the excuse of necessity for those acts of -rapine and cruelty in the satisfaction of personal enmities, the warfare -upon the women and children, and the thousand barbarous deeds which make -the history of that time a continual record of horrors. Had example been -necessary, they would have found it in the career of the opposing -forces; but in truth it was a time when the attributes of patriot and -plunderer, soldier and bandit, became inextricably confused; so that, -perhaps as completely to himself as to others, the average actor in that -bloody drama became a baffling and unsatisfying enigma. - -Such was the mental condition of Ruiz, though it did not occur to him to -define it. Attached to the clerical party by long association, and by -the uninterrupted prosperity which he had shared with Ramirez,—who since -separating himself from Gonzales had followed an independent career, in -which he had found the highest bidders for his services among the crafty -leaders of the old régime (who to their rich gifts added the indulgences -of the Church, to which no soul however blood-stained and conscienceless -could remain indifferent),—when Ruiz declared himself to Don Rafael a -convert to the Liberal cause, it was but as a precautionary measure -recommended by Doña Rita; and it was only when he saw in Doña Isabel a -patroness more powerful than the one he had abandoned, added to his -resolution to make himself independent of the man who had hitherto -controlled as well as defended him, that he in reality inclined to the -faction which day by day seemed gathering strength, and likely to become -the dominant power. - -But though his political views thus shaped themselves to meet Doña -Isabel’s, Ruiz was no more faithful to her purposes than to those of -Chinita. To abandon Gonzales to his fate at El Toro,—for he did not -doubt that Ramirez would return with overwhelming numbers to the -destruction of its insufficient garrison,—and at the same time to win -the confidence of Doña Isabel and that of the troops under his command, -thereafter seizing the first opportunity of having himself proclaimed -their permanent leader and marching to join Juarez, whose cause was -becoming strengthened day by day by fresh accessions from the interior, -became his dream. Thus he hoped to blind Chinita by an apparent -inability rather than disinclination to further her designs, mislead -Doña Isabel, and secure for himself a position which should render it -not absurd or incredible that he should aspire to the hand of a -_protégée_ of the Garcias, and to the dower which he shrewdly suspected -he might of right demand. - -All these plans were not perfected in a day, and the defection of Ashley -Ward and his servant seriously interfered in the ambitious captain’s -calculations; but he allowed no trace of uneasiness to appear in those -rare intervals when he found an opportunity to exchange a few words with -the impatient Chinita. - -Unconsciously also, Doña Isabel herself aided to establish a bond of -confidence between them. When the long irregular column, with banners -flying, driving before it the lowing cattle, whose numbers grew less -after each night’s slaughter, and followed by the motley line of women -and children with the rude equipage of the camp, would be fairly in -motion after the confusion of the early start, Ruiz would rein his -prancing steed at the side of the carriage and deferentially place -himself at the orders of the ladies. On these occasions his manner was -one of perfect respect to both, of entire concurrence in the dictates -and desires of Doña Isabel, and of half-indifferent, half-amused -rejection of the immature and inconsequent conjectures and opinions of -the girl, for whose beauty he exhibited a timid but irresistible -recognition, which flattered while it disarmed the suspicious mind of -Doña Isabel. She believed him still the ardent admirer of Rosario,—a -thing which, she reflected, was under the circumstances most fortunate. - -In the freshness and animation of those morning hours conversation -became natural and easy, and the events and names which were upon every -tongue furnished food for abundant reminiscence and comment. Doña Isabel -was eloquent in praise of Gonzales, who to his success at El Toro had -added others in the neighborhood, which together with the occupation of -Guanapila had made the entire district the undisputed territory of -Liberalism. Ruiz assented to her enthusiasm with an ardor which seemed -but natural in a youth who having separated himself from one powerful -patron, should desire to place himself beneath the protection of -another; and a comparison of the two, which should explain his defection -from the first, followed in natural course; and with carefully chosen -words, whose meaning held a subtile relation to the thoughts and -predilections of his two auditors, he spoke of the intrepid and -unscrupulous Ramirez. - -More than once Doña Isabel, in the midst of his talk, sank back in the -carriage lost in deep and painful thought, as the wild and terrible -deeds in which that lawless man had figured recalled to her mind the -horrors of her youth. Deeds such as these might have been planned and -executed by the boy who had once been the pride, as he was afterward the -bane, of her life, had he lived; but he was dead. Yes, thank God! though -her heart had bled inwardly for long years; he had made no sign since -the tale of his end came—he was dead! - -While she was thus lost in thought, Chinita listened with glowing cheek -and eyes. Ruiz knew of the meeting with Ramirez to which she looked back -with such peculiar and unwearying fascination; and discerning in her -admiration of his former leader an unfailing means of rousing in her a -personal attraction which in her passionate nature might become an -absorbing love, he carefully refrained from giving her any hint of his -real sentiments toward her hero, and spared no covert word, no mute -eloquence of his dark and expressive eyes, to increase an enthusiasm -which had already led her into such strange defiance of the plans of -Doña Isabel. To reinstate her hero in the power from which he had fallen -became Chinita’s dream, the aspiration of her soul. - -On the fifth night of their journey it chanced that they entered a -village, where Doña Isabel and her servants were enabled to find a -shelter, which after the restricted and insufficient accommodation of -tents seemed absolutely luxurious, primitive and rude though it was. -Doña Isabel wearied with travel, and depressed with anxiety at the -unaccountable delay of Gonzales, who she had supposed would have -hastened to take command of the troops that her energy and bounty had -provided, had early retired to the room assigned her. Chinita had -reluctantly accompanied her, for a fandango was in progress in the great -kitchen, the charcoal brasiers flaming red against the dark walls of -yellow-washed adobe, and shining upon the bronzed faces of a group of -swarthy men, who strummed upon stringed instruments of various shapes -and sizes; while another group of mingled men and women went through the -rhythmic motions of the dance, with which the young girl, gazing from -her cell-like retreat across the court, had long been so familiar. - -Chinita had never danced since the night that she had fled from the -wedding _fiesta_ into the waiting arms of Doña Isabel. She had thought -of the scene and its pleasures only with anger and disgust; and yet as -she looked into the red glare and watched the swaying figures, she -longed to rush in and throw herself among them. To her, as to Doña -Isabel, the time of suspense was growing unbearably long; she was mad -for action. Unreasonably, she felt that there among their caste she -might find Pedro, Pepé,—some one who would do her bidding, who would not -dare put her off as Ruiz was doing with tantalizing promises. - -Chinita knew that instead of following the most direct paths as Doña -Isabel had commanded, the route on various pretexts had been -changed,—she supposed to make communication with Ramirez possible. She -had no reason to doubt the good faith of Ruiz, yet she was impatient and -miserable. A straggler upon the road had given them the news that -Ramirez had been seen upon the hills with a forlorn and ill-armed troop, -which bore evidence of the ill fortune which the defeat at El Toro had -inaugurated. She had conceived a violent and unreasonable antagonism to -Gonzales, who from his whilom associate had become the successful -opponent and rival of the man whom by the childish gift of an amulet she -had fancied herself endowing with invincible good fortune. Even as she -grew older, her faith in the magic powers of a charm which had been the -creation of a wizard, and had been blessed by Holy Church, scarcely grew -less; and the remembrance of it undoubtedly strengthened the fealty so -strangely sworn. Besides, a purpose had arisen in her mind of appealing -to Ramirez to establish her position in the house of Garcia, by wresting -from Doña Isabel an acknowledgment which would give her rights and a -certain status (though clouded it might be) where now she was but the -recipient of favors,—the peasant born raised to a dignity which was a -mere scoff and jest to the ready wit of the sarcastic and epigrammatic -rancheros. Chinita knew them well. Were not their gifts and prejudices -her own? - -Musing thus, the girl glanced from the barred window where she stood -back through the gloom of the apartment to the bed where Doña Isabel was -lying,—already asleep. The yellow light of a candle just touched the -lady’s pale face; it was contracted with that habitual expression of -pain which the darkness of night permitted to the proud and suffering -woman, but which in the day, or under the eye of even the most -unobservant, she banished resolutely, though its shadow rested ever -uncomprehended, unpitied. - -There was something in the lassitude of Doña Isabel’s figure, the -hopeless grief upon the countenance, which for the first time suggested -to Chinita the possibility that emotions deeper than that pride of birth -which was as great in degree in herself, though neither as pure in -principle nor bounded by the conventionalities of caste, had actuated -the deeds and embittered the life of her who to the eye had been so -absolute, so unassailable. With a feeling of awe Chinita took a step -toward the sleeper, when a sound drew her glance to the court. Into the -motley throng of lounging soldiers and _arrieros_, with their mules -feeding and stamping around them, two belated travellers forced their -way. It was the voice of one of them that had startled the watcher, and -claimed instantly all her thoughts, setting her heart beating stiflingly -as she sprang to the lattice and pressed her face eagerly against the -iron bars. - -The red light from the kitchen was augmented by the flame of a smoking -torch, as a servant came forward to take the horse of the foremost -rider. When he leaped lightly from his saddle, pushing back his broad -hat, Chinita recognized the American, while a woman ran across the court -and clasped the arm of the other as he alighted: it was Juana, the wife -of Gabriel. - -“Hist! hist!” said the man in a low voice, “no crying nor screaming. The -Señor and I are here on business that would please your captain but -little. By good fortune he is camped to-night at the outskirts of the -village, and dare not leave his post. Tell me, Juana,—and not a word to -Gabriel when thou seest him,—where is Chinita?” - -Before Juana could gather her wits to reply, a hand was thrust through -the bars almost at the speaker’s shoulder; but it was Ashley who first -saw it. He took it for an instant in his own, and bent over it. “I must -speak with you, Chinita,” he said; “join me in the corridor as soon as -the house is quiet. I have much to say.” - -It was not the voice of a lover that spoke, but it thrilled her as that -of a prophet. “Speak low,” she answered, breathlessly, “Doña Isabel -sleeps close by; but I will escape,—yes, I will come to you. Is not -Juana with you? She must take my place here. The door is locked; the key -is in the hand of Doña Isabel. But I will have it, trust me; the Senora -sleeps heavily.” - -The girl’s face glowed with excitement; she was ready for any adventure, -the more daring the more welcome. Ashley Ward looked at her with a -strange pride and admiration: this was a nature that no shame could -crush, no outward fate dismay! - -Chinita, standing at the grating, feeling an almost unrestrainable -desire to burst into wild laughter and tears, was for some time utterly -silent, waiting the hour when, the revelry over, sleep would fall upon -the house. Ashley drew into the shade of the corridor. The inn was but a -caravansary; there was none to notice who came or went. In the laughing, -chattering crowd he was virtually alone. The thoughts that came to him -as the fires faded, as the noisy revellers strolled one by one to their -sleeping-places, and the pale light of the stars shining down upon that -strange scene showed Pepé wrapped in his blanket, standing sentinel at -his side, were indescribable. A phantasmagoria seemed to glide before -him, in which Mary, his cousin, the ordinary places, scenes, and -associates of his youth, Ramirez, Chata, all the strange actors in this -drama, in new and ill-comprehended scenes, passed by; and in the midst -the door of a chamber cautiously opened, and the girl of the siren face, -which the very voice of fate had seemed to bid him seek in this far -land, stepped eagerly and lightly forth to meet him. - - - - - XXXV. - - -In an angle of the corridor, where from sunrise to sunset a woman -usually sat, selling cigarettes and small glasses of _chia_ to the -passers-by, stood a low _banquito_, which was in fact only a superfluous -adobe jutting out from the massive wall. Ashley withdrew his foot from -this rude stool and greeted Chinita ceremoniously, and yet with an air -of protecting authority, inviting her by a gesture to be seated, saying, -“So you will be less likely to be seen by any chance comer. But from -necessity, I would not have asked you to speak to me here.” - -The girl looked at him with a little quiver of laughter rippling her -mouth, though her eyes were anxious. Evidently she was troubled with no -sense of impropriety, and the thought of having eluded Doña Isabel -diverted her. Instead of obeying Ashley’s invitation, she darted to -Pepé’s side, caught a fold of his blanket in her hand, and drew it from -his half-covered face. - -“Ah, Pepito, and is it thou?” she cried breathlessly. “What news dost -thou bring me? Hast thou then seen my godfather, and what does he say of -the Señor General? Does he not think the plan a good one?” - -Pepé shuffled uneasily to regain possession of the blanket, answering -pettishly and in a stifled voice, “Is the servant to talk when the -master stands by with the words ready? Go now, Chinita, you knew better -than that when Florencia used to pull your ears for a saucy one!” - -The girl pouted, turning to Ashley with a lowering face. She felt -instinctively that what had been to her a matter of simple expediency, a -means of securing the fortunes of a man who was in her imagination all -that was noble and great, might have a meaner aspect to this stranger, -who would perhaps think she had meant harm to Doña Isabel. Why had Pepé -dragged this American into the matter at all? Idiot! Ruiz had said -nothing but evil would come of it; and here was the stranger standing so -straight and silent to be questioned,—and looking at her, too, with a -sort of pity in the curious gaze he turned upon her. She felt half -inclined to turn back to the room whence she had come; yet she said -somewhat mockingly, - -“It is you, Señor, who must speak, though it was the servant I sent on -my errand; but perhaps you have seen Pedro and asked him my questions?” - -“You had better sit down, Chinita,” answered Ashley, severely. “I should -not be here to-night if it were not to tell you things hard for you to -listen to, and only to learn of matters of life or death should you have -consented to come. Heavens! what a strange perversity of fate that you -of all others should be anxious for the welfare, infatuated with the -character, of—Ramirez!” - -He spoke the name as though it were a curse, and the ready flame leaped -into Chinita’s eyes and cheek. - -“Ah, then,” she said, in a low but intense and penetrating tone, “you -have come to tell me, like the others, that he is a brigand and a -wretch! It is false! He is too brave, too daring, too noble for such -cowardly spirits as yours to understand! Pepé, thou wert a craven. -Stupid, it was Pedro I bade thee go to, not to this pale American, who -has lost all his blood through a single wound!” - -Ashley smiled faintly, vexed to find himself stung by a girl’s -unreasoning passion, but interposed quietly, “We lose time, Señorita, -which is prudent neither for you nor for me. I beg you will listen to -what I have to say. You will agree with me then that this is no hour to -talk of my courage or the lack of it.” - -He had stepped between her and Pepé, to whom with a strange perversity -she turned as if to show her disdain for the foreigner, whose every word -had a tone of reproach. A mere suggestion that the proprieties which -Doña Feliz and Doña Isabel had attempted to graft upon the rude stalk of -her untrained, unguarded childhood had some other meaning than an -elder’s caprices, touched Chinita’s mind: a young man could know nothing -of woman’s freaks and prejudices; she felt the hot blood rising to her -cheek as she encountered his quiet gaze. All at once the court and -corridor seemed to become wonderfully dark and still. A slight shudder -ran through her frame; she drew back from the American and sat down -where he had directed her, drawing her reboso close around her. - -“Señor,” she said, quite humbly, “I am listening.” - -Ashley did not speak at once, though Pepé seemed to urge him to do so by -a motion of the head, which betokened readiness to confirm his speech; -and when he began, it was at a point entirely unexpected by either -listener. - -“Señorita,” he said, “is it not true that when you think of an American, -you have in your mind a pale-faced, mysterious, unresisting youth, -gliding spectre-like about the hacienda walls, tempting by a love-song -the bloody steel of some dark and daring desperado? In a word, is it not -the vision—distorted, insufficient, faint—of my murdered cousin, John -Ashley, that comes before you?” - -The young girl started. “Yes! yes!” she said hurriedly, not knowing what -she said. “At least, once I thought like that. I had not seen an -American then; I did not know—” - -“And the first American you have known has had the benefit of the -preconception,” interrupted Ashley, grimly. “Well, it is something to -know the secret of a contemptuous indifference which has always been so -frankly expressed.” This comment was in English, and though Chinita -watched the motion of his lips, their silence could not have given her -better opportunity to recover her confused and startled thoughts. - -“Then it is true,” she said. “You are of the family of the poor -American, who was killed like a rabbit by a hawk. Why, they say that he -could not have even clapped his hand on his belt, though a _man_ from -very instinct would draw a knife on his enemy, even in his last gasp. Is -it not so, Pepito? I used to tell Chata that, when she would shed her -soft tears of pity for him. Well, I could not cry, but I have watched at -the mesquite-tree for the coming of his ghost a thousand times; yet I -never saw it—and it was I who found his grave.” - -“And it was you who bade Pepé show it me,” interrupted Ashley; “and -perhaps not as a mere jest as he thought.” She nodded, looking up at him -vaguely and keenly. “You thought perhaps I had come these many miles -from my own country to find it?” he added. “Well, that was scarcely so; -it had not presented itself to me as possible that the obscure grave of -a murdered foreigner should be remembered still, and that his name -should be found above it. No, I came for proofs of John Ashley’s life, -not of his death. It was not even to trace his murderer or to avenge him -that I came.” - -She looked incredulous. “Why then should you come?” she asked. “Had you -a vow? If I had known and loved the dead man, it would have been to kill -the man who struck him in secret that I would have come. But it is as -Captain Ruiz says,—the blood of an American runs so slowly it cools his -heart, while ours is a burning torrent that causes the soul to leap and -the hand to smite at a word.” - -Ashley realized that impatient contempt of him was struggling with a -feeling to which, with sudden apprehension of its importance, she dared -not give utterance; or perhaps the idea that had long been shaping -itself was for the moment obscured, but yet in the darkness and -confusion was growing to an overwhelming certainty in her mind. Chinita -had risen to her feet, but suddenly she sat down, covering her face with -a hand which Ashley saw in the dim light shook with suppressed -excitement. Her attitude was that of a listener; and in a low voice he -told her of his boyhood, of the days when he had come in from school and -stood at the shoulder of his grown cousin,—the young man with the silky -shadow just darkening his upper lip, and with the clear frank eyes of a -boy, who looked so eagerly forward into the active life of manhood, -restive under the restraints and cautions that hampered him, until at -last he broke away, and was no more seen, nor scarcely heard of, until -the news of his early and violent death came to cast an unending gloom -over the household, which before had been captious, foreboding, but ever -loving, ever secretly proud of the bold, irrepressible spirit it could -not chain to its standard of decorum, or tame to walk in the narrow path -of uneventful and passionless existence. The years of his own youth he -passed lightly by; there was nothing in them for comment until he came -to the time of his aunt’s death, his inheritance of the fortune that -should have been John Ashley’s, the reading of those few letters which -had given to Mary Ashley such strange dreams, and which in the -re-reading had filled his mind with thoughts of the same possibilities -that racked her own. He spoke of them briefly in a single sentence: “We -found by his letters that he believed himself married; it was to find -the woman he had loved, or any trace of her, that I came.” - -Chinita sat so still one might have doubted if she heard; but that very -stillness convinced Ashley that she listened with an absorbing interest, -too great for questioning. She could but wait breathlessly for what was -to come. - -“After long and vexatious wanderings I was taken wounded to Tres -Hermanos,” continued the young man. “There, when my hope was almost -exhausted, I heard the name that had been in my mind so long,—heard it -only to make inquiries which ended in confusion, and threatened to -involve me in endless complications; so at last I was glad to suffer -myself to be convinced that my conjectures were the mere vagaries of an -overburdened fancy, a too scrupulous conscience, and to turn my face -homeward, determined that thereafter I would live my life, and take in -peace the goods fortune sent me. In such a mind I rode with the troop -across the plain and up the desolate hillside, along which the scattered -graves of the poor lay, the mounds scarce noticeable among the rocks and -cacti. Pepé remembered your jesting command; it would give him an -opportunity to withdraw from the troops unheeded. He invited me to go -with him to see something that would interest me. When I saw the grave, -my heart began to beat; when I read the name upon the fallen cross, the -blood rushed into my eyes and suffocated me; every drop in my heart -accused me! There lay my cousin murdered, and in looking for a possible -claimant to his name, I had forgotten him! I had forgotten that his -death was still unatoned for, the murderer undiscovered, unsought, -unpunished.” - -Chinita dropped her hand from her face and looked up, her eyes glowing, -her lips apart, her bosom rising and falling with the quick breath that -came and went. Here were words she could understand; here was a spirit -that touched her own. - -“And then, then, then?” she muttered; and Pepé leaned out from the wall, -like a gaunt shadow, to hear the narration, as if every word was too -significant to allow a single one to escape him. “Then?” - -“Then,” resumed Ashley, “I seemed chained to the spot. I could not tear -myself away, though reason told me that to stay there was useless; to -hasten forward and demand the truth from those I had hitherto shrunk -from offending, the only course open to me. Reason as I would, I could -not force myself to leave the spot. After a time, yielding to necessity -and to my command, Pepé left me. I was alone for hours with the dead. My -mind was full of him; I heard his voice; I looked into the eyes which -death had closed for so many unregarded years. I saw before me that face -which I had so long forgotten; but my fancy pictured him never as in -life, gay, happy, resolute, but pale, bloody, corpse-like, stretching -out dead hands to me and speaking with the soundless voice of those we -dream of. Who remembers the tone of a voice, silent forever? Yet it -echoes in our heart; it awakens our joys, our griefs, our fears; it is -more powerful, more terrible, than any living voice. And so upon that -day was the voice of the dead John Ashley to me. As I listened to it, I -swore never to leave Mexico until the mystery of his death, as well as -that of his life, was open to me; until I had called to account the -villain who had cut him off so secretly, so vilely. - -“While I was full of the thought, and the whole world around me seemed -to stretch on every side silent, void, waiting for me to choose whither -I would go, in what direction I would set out to seek the nameless -object of the new absorbing passion, which seemed more vital, more -essential to my being than the air I breathed, I felt a presence near -me. I looked up,—a man was leaning over the wall. I instantly -conjectured he was not the mere peasant his dress indicated. A sense of -mysterious connection between his life and mine seized upon me; it -strengthened as he crossed the wall and strode toward me over the sunken -graves. He came as though under a spell; I looked upon him as if under -the fascination of a serpent-like gaze. I recoiled, yet for worlds I -would not have turned from him. His eyes fell upon the cross; the -expression of his face, the words that sprang from his lips,—vague -though they were,—sped to my brain with an electric thrill. I knew the -man before me was John Ashley’s murderer.” - -Chinita had risen. She stretched out her hand and touched the hilt of -the knife in Ashley’s belt. It was the action of a moment, yet it was a -question that the quick beating of her heart and the panting breath made -at the instant impossible from her lips. Ashley answered it by a brief -account of the combat and its interruption. - -As he ended, she drew a deep breath of relief. It did not occur to him -that it could be for any other than himself. It flattered and pleased -him, for an instant he realized how deeply, as having in it something of -the tender unreasoning fears of gentle womanhood. Yet the readiness with -which she had comprehended his passion for revenge, while it justified -him, had set her in a harsh and cruel aspect, which made her lithe, dark -beauty forbidding, unrelenting, tiger-like. Yet this strange young -creature, he thought, at once so foreign to him, and still so near, -concealed after all, under the surface of incomprehensible moods and -half barbaric customs, those attributes of gentleness, those instincts -of justness, which amidst the perplexing differences of national manners -and standards of good and evil may be distinguished and understood by -every mind. At that moment Ashley felt her to be less an alien than he -had ever been able before to consider her. She was not only beautiful, -bewitching, but in part, at least, comprehensible. - -Chinita stood silent for many moments; she had not even started when he -spoke the name Ramirez. The personality of the man of whom he had spoken -had been a foregone conclusion in her mind. - -“It was the amulet I gave him that saved him,” she said simply; and -Ashley stared at her blankly, not comprehending the meaning of her -words, but only that the relief she had experienced had been rather for -the aggressor than for him. Had he then been mistaken? Was she an entire -stranger to the thought which so permeated his own mind that he had -imagined it must be present in hers? - -“Yes, the amulet that I gave him must have all the virtues Pedro told me -of,” she said musingly. “So it was the General Ramirez who killed the -American? _Dios mio!_ he must have had good cause; yet it angers me. Ah! -it is well I have time to think what cause he must have had!” - -“Cause!” ejaculated Ashley, “cause!” - -The girl nodded her head in an argumentative way. In the dim light -Ashley could read the struggle in her mind,—indignation at the deed, -dismay at its consequences, battling with attempted justification of the -perpetrator. “By my patron saint!” she exclaimed at length, “it was the -woman who was to blame. Why did she torture him? He must have loved her; -and what was there in the American to make her false to Ramirez? Strange -she should have preferred another to him!” - -“For God’s sake say no more!” cried Ashley, with actual horror in his -voice. “I forgot that this tale has no deeper significance to you than -any other; that the American is to you simply an American, and Ramirez -the hero of your own countrymen, by whose desperate deeds your -imagination is dazzled, and for whom, even in the midst of horror, you -find excuse, admiration, justification. To you he seems but a jealous -lover, taking just revenge upon a successful rival.” - -Chinita spoke not a word, but bent her head as though his words were an -accusation. Her face, in the dim light, was so impassive it was -impossible for Ashley to conjecture what was passing in her mind. Did -she remember that he had said he had come to seek a child, and was it -possible that the mystery of her own birth had not suggested to her that -she might have an interest in the ghastly deed of Ramirez far deeper -than would make natural or possible to her the excuse of jealousy in the -perpetrator? He had learned something of the reticence and -self-restraint of these people since he had come among them; yet was it -possible this young girl could suspend judgment in such a cause until -her own relation to it was fully ascertained? Were prejudice, education, -sentiment, so much stronger than the voice of Nature? Did no instinct -cry in her heart, denouncing this man, of whom she had made a hero,—no -womanly pity hover over his victim? What a ready apprehension she had -shown of Ashley’s own desire for vengeance! Was that simply because it -was the passion strongest in her own soul, and so gave to her ready -excuse even for murder? - -Under the moonlight it seemed to him that the young girl’s face grew -hard as marble. No, she was not one to yield her faith lightly. This -deed, which had filled the mind of Chata with dismay, and intensified a -thousand-fold the horror in which she held the character of the man whom -she believed it sin not to reverence and love, would in no wise shake -the faith and admiration of this stronger soul, who could condone it -with the thought that a woman had played the murderer false. - -“Yet with all this, Señor,” she said at length, looking up, “if you have -no more to tell me, I see not why this should turn me against the Señor -General. For you it is different—oh, quite different; but for me,—” She -paused suddenly, and Ashley saw that the hand which hung at her side was -clenched till the nails marked her flesh. - -Yes, the deed itself was nothing,—a trifle, at most,—but in its relation -to her, how great, how terrible, it might become! - -Ashley was not deceived. He felt that by a word he might fan into a -resistless flame the fire that lay smouldering in that resolute heart,—a -word which would be no surprise to her, which would but confirm the -conviction against which, in loyalty to Ramirez, she struggled with even -a certain anger against the persistent suspicion that made the legendary -and unheroic figure of the American a mute denouncer, more powerful, -more persuasive, than the living man who had revealed the author of the -tragedy which through all her life had been so dark a mystery. It seemed -to Ashley that she held her breath to listen to his next words; but he -could be as hard as she was herself to this girl, whose heart seemed -incapable of feeling aught but a personal injury, or any passion but -revenge. - -“Señorita,” he said, “I went back to the hacienda. My horse had fled; -there was nothing else for me to do, if I would find means to follow -this man who had suddenly become my debtor in all the dues of outraged -kinship. My object was to obtain money, a horse and guide, and to regain -the troop as quickly as should be possible; to denounce this murderer to -Doña Isabel, and reveal the plot against her interests which had -appeared to me so weak, so absolutely absurd, but which now assumed an -importance commensurate with my detestation of him whom it was designed -to serve. But with further thought my resolution changed. If all her -agents were false,—Pedro, Ruiz, as well as you, whom I know to be” -(Chinita winced),—“and Pepé should be successful in inducing Pedro to -play into the hands of Ramirez, what power could Doña Isabel employ to -prevent that change of leadership which it was more than probable the -troops—indifferent to the cause, eager only for action and booty—would -accept with acclamations? Clearly, my only course was to proceed to El -Toro and arouse the too confident Gonzales, who in incomprehensible -inactivity was awaiting the promised succor,—incomprehensible if the -emissaries of Doña Isabel had reached him; for, as I knew, not one word -in reply had been returned. - -“I had much to ask of Doña Isabel Garcia,—questions which had burned -upon my lips before; but reflection told me I was no more ready to ask -them now than I had been; that her pride might be still as obdurate. No, -there were months before me in which by gradual assault I might acquire -all the knowledge I would in vain endeavor to gain by sudden force. I -was confident that if by no stratagem or treason Ramirez ultimately -could place himself at the head of these troops, he would be found in -the field against them. I learned that he hated Gonzales as a personal, -no less than a political, foe. Gonzales then was the man for me to -follow. In serving Doña Isabel against the machinations of those she had -so blindly trusted, I should serve myself; keep in view the mocking -fiend whose downfall I had sworn, and perchance satisfy myself in regard -to the still importunate doubts which had led to my presence amid these -strange scenes. - -“I had intended to leave the hacienda upon the very night of my return, -but on my way—Well, that is nothing to the purpose; I reached it -exhausted. But the early morning found me in the saddle. My strength -revived with every step toward El Toro. Once we caught sight of the long -line of the hacienda troop crossing the open plain. We had passed -through cañons and byways, and were far in advance of them. More than -once in the mountains we heard the name of Ramirez, and made wide -detours of hamlets where men were gathering in twos and threes and -sixes,—ragged, unkempt, unarmed for the most part, but full of -enthusiasm in their leader, and confident of booty and glory. Without -doubt, the reverse of Ramirez at El Toro would not remain unavenged. I -realized the spell of that potent name, the very echo of which seemed to -be as eloquent as the living voice of most men, chieftains and leaders -though they might be.” - -Chinita’s eyes glistened; she raised herself with a proud gesture, as if -the involuntary tribute to the genius of the adventurer was a personal -commendation. - -“Though we avoided the villages,” continued Ashley, “I did not hesitate -to question the few passengers we met upon the roads. These were chiefly -wandering traders, stooping under their burdens of clay-ware or -charcoal, adherents of no particular party, and reticent or the -opposite, as their natural impulses or the supposed necessities of the -time prompted. These I plied in vain for news of Pedro, of Pepé, or even -of the noted Ramirez himself. Each and every one seemed to have passed, -and left not even a memory behind; though from these very ranchos and -hamlets I knew Doña Isabel’s troops had been drawn, and that the -followers of Ramirez were daily drawing more,—forcing those they could -not persuade, laughing at the protestations of the women, and feeding -the adventurous ardor of the men with tales of daring exploits and -promises of plunder. All this we heard, and knew the whole country was -in a ferment, yet passed through it undetected, on our own part unable -to catch a glimpse or hear a word of the covert from which Ramirez -directed and inspired the movement. Travelling rapidly, we entered upon -the third day a deep gorge, which cut the foothills of the very mountain -that overshadowed the towers of the convent town toward which I was -journeying. Still a painful stretch of twelve hours, of an almost -pathless labyrinth of rock and sand, I was told, lay before us; and -early in the evening I ordered a halt, intending to set forth before the -day broke. One of my servants spoke of a spring which he knew of; and -though the season was so dry that we had little hope of discovering it, -we decided to push on, although at every step the horses seemed to -protest against the effort,—for they had been ridden mercilessly, -without change and almost without food or rest. As we neared the spot -where we hoped to find water, the aspect of the country seemed to grow -even more forbidding. - -“‘The dry season has swallowed it,’ said the servant dejectedly, after a -careful survey of the locality. ‘There is nothing here but sand,—a dry -welcome for our thirsty beasts;’ and at a signal from me he threw -himself from the saddle, and tethering his panting horse, clambered up -the gorge to gather a handful of dry grease-wood with which to light a -fire. Meanwhile, his fellow busied himself in unpacking the few articles -we had brought, and I threw myself on the ground against a rock, feeling -myself more secure in that wild and secluded pass than I had done since -I left the hacienda. - -“The place was very still. Although it was yet daylight in the world -without, the whole gorge was in shadow. The crackling of the herbage -under the horses’ feet, or a low word occasionally spoken by the men, -was all that broke the stillness. I suppose from thought I was gradually -falling into slumber, when the sound of horses galloping, of men -laughing and shouting, broke upon the air. I started to my feet and -seized my arms, calling for the men; but they had disappeared; the three -horses were rearing and plunging. I caught and succeeded in mounting my -own; but as the cavalcade drew near, I realized that its members were so -numerous and in such mad humor that it would be worse than folly for me -to approach them. One of my men had recovered from his panic, and stole -up to me with blanched face and wide-staring eyes. I pointed to the -horses, and with wonderful dexterity he bounded into the saddle of one, -and caught the bridle of the other. In as little time as it takes me to -tell it, we gained the shelter of the rock. Calmed by a few low words, -the horses stood motionless, and from our covert we saw the company of -lawless soldiery go by. - -“Ramirez was at their head; and by a cord at his bridle-rein was tied a -man, who vainly strove to keep pace with the gallop of his horse. At -almost every step he fell, and was struck by the hoofs of the foremost -horses, whose riders leaning down brought him again to his feet with -blows from the flat sides of their swords. There were perhaps thirty -ruffians engaged in this brutal sport; and after them ran a man at such -a pace as only an Indian could maintain, even for moments, wringing his -hands and praying and crying,—alternately a prayer and a curse. And in -him, more by his voice, gasping and hoarse though it was, than by sight, -I recognized Pepé Ortiz.” - -Chinita would have screamed, but the ready hand of the peasant closed -over her mouth. “The man! the man tied to the horse’s rein!” she gasped, -when he released her. - -“I could not see his face, and he had no breath to cry out,” said -Ashley. “They passed so closely, I could have shot Ramirez like a dog. -But I seemed paralyzed by horror. It did for me what perhaps a moment’s -reflection would have done had I been capable of it,—it saved me from -suicide. To have moved then would have been certain death. I could not -comprehend the mad jests of those around the victim; but a moment after -they passed I heard a sound which to all ears conveys the same -meaning,—a pistol shot,—and the voice of Ramirez crying,— - -“‘_Caramba!_ the next fall would have killed him, and the dog should die -only by my hand. There! I have paid the debt I owed thee,—thou knowest -for what. It should have been paid thee like the other villain’s years -ago. Would that I had dragged him at my horse’s rein as I have thee!’ - -“The man fell; a soldier, with a laugh, cut the rope; all swept on with -shouts and laughter,—Ramirez the quietest among them. In a few minutes -they were far up the gorge. One glance had satisfied Ramirez that his -shot had reached its aim. - -“None seemed to remember the panting wretch behind. I had reached the -prostrate body as soon as he, and together we raised it up. Under the -mask of bruises and blood and the dust of the roadway, I recognized the -man I had been seeking,—Pedro Gomez.” - -Pepé caught Chinita on his outstretched arm,—she had staggered as though -struck by a heavy blow. Ashley sprang to her side in remorse,—he had -spared her nothing in the recital; but she had not fainted. She raised -herself slowly, and lifting her arms above her head, wrung her hands in -speechless agony. - -The man who had been murdered years before had been a shadow, a myth, in -her mind. He became at that supreme moment a living presence, joining -with, blent with, the martyred Pedro in denunciation of the man whom she -had raised in her admiration to a pinnacle of glory. The idol of years -crashed to the earth, in semblance of a demon,—and with it fell the -stoicism and pride that had encased as in bands of steel the softer -emotions of her nature. - -“Murdered! murdered both!” she moaned at length. “Was it not enough he -should bereave me even before I came into the world, but that he should -so vilely slay the only creature who has loved me? Oh, my God!” she -added, shuddering, “why have I been so cursed as to have given one -thought to such a wretch? Oh! forgive, forgive, forgive!” - - - - - XXXVI. - - -To whom was that vain cry addressed? Ashley questioned not, but clasping -in his the icy hands which strove to smite and beat each other, spoke -such words of soothing as came readiest in the stranger tongue he found -so inadequate. He realized that it was not to him Chinita directed that -wail of self-abasement and remorse; and he also apprehended somewhat of -the wild joy that would have been his, had she involuntarily turned to -him in the anguish of her desolation. But she was scarcely conscious of -his presence, and in her frenzy—terrible to witness, though it was not -loud—even Pepé’s rough accents were unheeded. - -“_Niña_ of my soul!” he said earnestly, “Pedro is not dead. No, it is -not a lie I tell thee! Who would lie to thee in such an hour as this? I -have come to tell thee that he lives; ’t was he himself who sent me.” - -“He himself!”, she echoed at last, turning her wild, tearless eyes upon -Pepé’s face. “Ah, it is because thou art here that I know he is dead, -else thou wouldst not dare to leave him!” - -“And by my faith, it is not of my own will I am here!” answered Pepé, -bluntly. “Señor Don ’Guardo, you can tell her that.” - -“I can in truth,” replied Ashley, who seeing that the peasant’s words -were received by her but as mere attempts to defer the evil moment when -the inevitable assurance of the death of her foster-father must be given -her,—so well did she know the customs and manners of her country people, -ever prone to useless prevarication, even in their deepest -sorrow,—hastened to describe to her the few scant means they had found -in his extremity to recall the exhausted Pedro to the life that had -apparently been thrust and beaten and driven from him forever. - -The ball of the pistol had but grazed the cheek of the tortured man; the -blood and dust had deceived the accustomed eyes of Ramirez, as it had -deceived their own. The greater danger arose from the frightful -condition of laceration and fatigue to which the mad race through the -stony cañon had reduced him. - -In a few words Pepé told the tale. He and Pedro had met but the day -before, and it was while hastening to El Toro to apprize Gonzales of the -plot that Pepé, in the petition of Chinita, had revealed to the -indignant Pedro, that they had encountered face to face the irate -chieftain and his followers. Pepé understood little of the cause that -led to their being seized, dragged from their horses, and threatened -with instant death. Both alike protested innocence of any scheme to -baffle or injure the mountain chieftain; but he understood too well the -ease with which a foe too weak to fight could assume the aspect of a -friend. At the worst, however, Pepé imagined they might be forced to -turn back on their way to spend a few unwilling hours among the bandit -followers, until chance should give them opportunity to escape. But -Ramirez’s memory was keen as it was vengeful. Suddenly he bent and gazed -searchingly into the face of the elder prisoner. - -“Ah!” he exclaimed, with an oath, “I know thee! Thou art Pedro Gomez.” - -Pedro, who till this moment had bent his head to avoid the gaze of his -captors, raised it swiftly with an ejaculation of amazement. A red -handkerchief bound the brows of Ramirez; his face was swarthy and grimed -with hard riding. - -“Ah, and thou knowest me, too!” Ramirez cried. “Thou hast called me a -devil more than once in thy lifetime; and now I will prove thy word -true. Hereafter thou wilt have no further chance for that, or for -opening the gate to the man who would make my—” He gnashed his teeth in -speechless rage, and with his sword struck the keeper across the face. - -The action spoke louder than words. Some one, in ready comprehension of -the leader’s mood, threw a lasso, and catching the prisoner across the -breast began to mimic the wild shouts of a bull-fighter. But Ramirez was -in no humor for pastime. - -“On! on!” he cried. “’T is nearly sunset. Let us see how far on our way -this fellow can accompany us till then; and then by a vow I made to my -patron San Leonidas, more than a score of years ago, he shall die. -_Caramba!_ did ever man play Ramirez false, and he forget to pay him his -dues?” - -Pepé, amid the shouts and laughter of the band, heard these words with a -wild sense of terror; but it was only when he beheld Pedro struggling at -the side of the plunging horse, that he realized that the gate-keeper -was to be dragged to his death. He had heard of Ramirez’s wild jests, -and imagined that this might be one, until he beheld the cortège -speeding forward, urging the unhappy Pedro before them with blows and -jeers, or exhibiting their wonderful horsemanship in evading his -prostrate body,—which, however, more than once, as he fell, sounded -under the thud of the horses’ feet. - -Pepé could have escaped at any moment, for in the concentration of -attention upon Pedro his companion had been utterly forgotten; but he -followed madly, expostulating, entreating, cursing, while his breath -allowed; and then was swept onward in the whirl, seemingly almost -unconscious, till he heard the shot that ended the mad scene, and found -himself staggering over the body of the bleeding Pedro. - -The sight of Ashley, as unexpected as it was reassuring, as though an -angel had arisen, saved the wretched youth from utter collapse of mind -and body. But for the new excitement he would have fallen prone, and had -he ever regained consciousness it would have been to find his comrade -dead. But under the impulse of Ashley’s energetic action and sustaining -words, he even helped to raise the victim, in whom, lacerated though he -was, Ashley soon discovered a feeble flutter of the heart. - -“We took him to the shelter of the rock,” said Ashley, who had by signs -hastened Pepé’s conclusion of the account, which, related in his own -profuse manner, was far more agonizing than the brief outline here -given, “and found that his extraordinary powers of endurance, though -strained to the uttermost, had stood him in wonderful stead. An arm was -broken, and every muscle so wrenched and strained that when he regained -his consciousness the resolute will, which during the progress of the -torture had withheld him from uttering protest or groan, utterly gave -way, and he screamed in agony. Happily his persecutors were too far -distant to be recalled by those unrestrainable cries of returning -consciousness. Even while we poured brandy down his throat, and rubbed -and stretched his limbs, it seemed as though it would have been a -thousand times more charitable to suffer him to die than to recall him -to such agony. When he regained full consciousness, however, the cries -ceased,—not because the pain was less, but that the will regained its -mastery. “As his eyes fell upon me, he gazed at me a moment as upon an -apparition. So wild was his look, I thought he was going mad. - -“‘Don Juan! here! here!’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘Are we in hell together? -But, no!’ he sprang up, then fell back with a groan. ‘I shall live to -warn her yet. Oh God, that the child should entreat me to turn traitor -for him! But she shall not fall into his accursed hands. Never! never! -Ah, Pepé, thou art here; hasten, hasten! tell her she is the child of -John Ashley, the man Ramirez murdered. What though I die? She will be -saved! Go! go! I pray you!’” - -Chinita started. Ward anticipated some outburst of emotion, but the -glance she flashed back at him indicated simply keen intelligence; the -springs of feeling remained untouched. With an effort Ward continued:— - -“My recreant servant had returned. It was Stefano, whom you know well. -He is a coward, but ready in resource, and with a kindly heart. He knew -the country well, and told us of a cave he once had slept in, and led us -to it unerringly. To our surprise we found there a scanty supply of -toasted corn, left by some wandering tenant, and a quantity of water, -still fresh enough to show that the cave had not long been empty. There -was a remnant of a woman’s dress in one corner,—heaven knows how brought -there,—and this we used to bind the pistol wound; while Stefano used the -best means available in setting the broken arm. These rancheros are -possessed of strange accomplishments,—I don’t believe a surgeon could -have done it with more skill. - -“During the course of our passage through the dusk, bearing as best we -could our groaning burden, Pedro’s hallucination that I was John Ashley -merged into recognition. It was but little I could do for him, but it -filled him with gratitude. ‘You are a good Christian,’ he ejaculated -again and again; and once in the night, when the others slept, he -muttered ‘_Niña, niña_ Herlinda, forgive me! I am dying. You bade me -protect the child! Ah, even in life it has not been possible! Is she not -in the hands you bade me defend her from?’ - -“These sentences, murmured at intervals, kept me waking while all others -slept, hanging over him with entreaties to disburden his mind of the -secret which weighed so heavily upon him that it seemed under it he -could neither live nor die. - -“‘Tell me at least,’ I said, ‘who is this man called Ramirez, whom I saw -this evening wreak upon you so terrible a revenge? How comes it that you -are so hated by the man for whom your foster-daughter is plotting? Have -you not been his follower in by-gone days? Surely it is not Chinita who -has set such enmity between you!’ - -“‘No, no! it began before she was born,’ answered Pedro shudderingly, -his pale countenance becoming more ghastly still. ‘Oh, Lady of Sorrows!’ -he continued, as if forgetful of my presence, ‘was it not enough that -the child should fall again into the power of Doña Isabel,—she who tore -it from its mother’s breast to cast it among the beggars who feed with -the dogs at her gates,—but that her father’s murderer, her mother’s -destroyer, should wield this devil’s witchcraft over her? My God, who -will defend her? Who will rescue her?’” - -Chinita raised her head, her nostrils quivering, the veins upon her neck -and temples swollen and palpitating. - -“‘Tell her the truth,’ I said! ‘Then she will be her own defender; and -I—you know me; for what other purpose am I here but to shield her? Yes, -Pedro, the secret you have kept so long is mine as well as yours. John -Ashley, my cousin, died because he dared love a woman named Herlinda; -and that Herlinda was the daughter of Doña Isabel Garcia.’” A look of -indescribable hauteur and triumph passed over Chinita’s rigid face, -while Ashley continued,— - -“Pedro stared at me in wild dismay, ‘_Niña, niña!_’ he muttered, -piteously, ‘I have not betrayed thee; and Doña Isabel, though you have -taken the child from me which you thrust upon me in such mockery, have I -not borne the torture meekly? No, even to this man, so like the other -that he needed not to tell his name and kin, I have told nothing to -shame you!’ - -“His words sprang from his lips in spite of the will that would have -kept them back; for a time he was like a man under the influence of a -maddening draught. Striving to calm him by the assurance that I would -never use the knowledge he might give me to dishonor the family to which -his whole life had been devoted, I drew from him little by little his -strange tale. It concerns neither you nor me, Chinita, until in -recompense for secret service done her in the cause of her wretched -brother Leon, Doña Isabel Garcia made Pedro gate-keeper at Tres -Hermanos. There my unfortunate cousin gained his good offices in his -secret meetings with the young Herlinda. The man seems in truth to have -been conscious of no serious offence against Doña Isabel in lending his -aid to the tender intercourse of the young lovers, although he was -cognizant of her plans regarding the marriage of Herlinda and Gonzales. -My cousin claimed the right to visit his wife; and Pedro took his gold -and was silent, if not convinced. - -“‘Ah, how joyously Ashley left his wife—for the last time,’ Pedro -exclaimed at length, ceasing to expect my questions and taking the tone -of narrative. ‘Yes, Don Juan called Herlinda always his wife: what was -the keeper of the gate to demand,—the word of a priest forsooth, rather -than that of the man whom his mistress loved? Ah! Doña Isabel I knew -would ask all, or the young Gonzales. One cannot do worse than put his -hand in a boiling pot, and wherefore do that when it hangs over his -neighbor’s fire? Yes, never had Ashley seemed more confident, more gay. -“I shall not again need to waken thee at midnight to let me pass like a -thief who leaves a bribe,” he said; “to-morrow I shall be free to come -and go as I will.” - -“‘Alas!’ the remorseful Pedro continued, ‘as my eyes followed the young -American, I thought any woman might be pardoned for loving him: had he -not beguiled my own heart? for I swear I loved him. Yet I wondered at -the courage of the _Niña_ Herlinda,—she who had seemed so timid, so -yielding to her mother’s every wish. _Caramba!_ it is true,—“There is -nothing too strong for love or death.” I laughed as Ashley stepped -forth, to think how youth in its folly can baffle caution, when a voice -behind me echoed the sound. The blood froze in my veins, so overpowering -was the very presence near me even before it touched me. Almighty -powers! when I looked up, the man in the peasant’s dress, whom only a -few hours before I had admitted as a stranger within the walls, hurled -himself upon me; but the blaze in his eyes could burn only from the -fierce and terrible rage of the evil spirit of that house. It was Leon -Vallé who dashed me down and rushed out into the night.’” - -Chinita uttered an exclamation; then repeating the name, “Leon! Leon -Vallé,” listened with bated breath, while Ashley continued in the words -of Pedro:— - -“‘I knew at the moment that Ashley was lost. Not a thousand prayers, nor -the swiftest aid my cries could have gained him, would have saved him. I -waited, scarce daring to breathe; with strained ears I listened. Would -the murderer, his first work accomplished, return? I knew then he held -my life forfeit; yet had he returned, I should have opened the gate to -him. Ah, you know not the power of that man! As it was in Leon Vallé -then, so it is now in Ramirez. God, what power in those terrible eyes! I -felt it then, I felt it to-day. What resistance was possible? The -morning came. I was still alive, but the people came to me crying of the -dead. What need had I to ask the name? In the midst of the tumult a -terrible shriek rang on my ears. I thought my brain was turning. There -was but one thought that steadied it,—confession, confession to Doña -Isabel. - -“‘As soon as it was possible I sought her presence. I cannot tell you -what passed; I only know the words I would have spoken died on my lips. -Whether Doña Isabel had known of it or not, I could not determine; but -that the love of Herlinda Garcia and the young American was to die with -him, and that the terrible vengeance which had been worked for her was -not to be in vain, seared itself upon my mind. The preservation of that -secret was to atone for my sins, and not confession. Never to mortal was -my knowledge to be breathed. This was the penitence laid upon me. And -so, despairing, I left her. What was the immortal soul of a poor peasant -in comparison to the honor of the family of Garcia? - -“‘It was well! Why should a servant gainsay his mistress? So months went -on, Señor. Within and around the hacienda people were dying. They told -me the _niña_ Herlinda herself was pining,—some whispered for the -American; but a terror seized even on the boldest, and the American’s -name ceased to be heard, and that of the young Gonzales took its place. -The gossips were content to blame any name unchid for her wan cheeks and -sunken eyes. But I knew that no man had scorned her love, and that no -living man had aught to answer for had she loved too well. I had not -seen her for weeks and weeks; but one night a creature so pale and wan I -thought it her ghost, accosted me. Strange, strange the mission that -brought her. It was to entreat my protection—that of the worthless -Pedro—for the child which in secret and in banishment she was about to -bring into the world. - -“‘Well! well! I promised all she asked. I should have done so even had I -thought it possible the dire need she pleaded would be hers. Oh! I had -heard strange and fearful tales of deeds that have been wrought within -the walls of these great and solitary haciendas; but that Doña Isabel -would stoop to crime, and that I should find it in my power to save a -child which she would strive to sacrifice, I could not believe. Trouble, -I thought, had made Herlinda mad. But she was mad only with the frenzy -of a prophetess. - -“‘With terrible forebodings I saw her taken from her home. Day and night -I thought of her, and my heart was like ice; but one day, when worn out -with watching and expectancy I sat at the gate, I fell into a doze, and -in my dream heard the voice of Herlinda calling me. It changed to that -of a man. I woke with a start, and a child was dropped into my hands. -Strange and wonderful must have been the means by which the hunted and -distracted Herlinda had evaded the mother she feared! Who had been her -friends, Señor? The wonder is with me still. I saw the face of her -messenger but for a moment, yet it has haunted me. Yes, more than once, -when I have thought of new faces that have passed before me, I have -said, “Such an one was like the man; why was I blind to it when he stood -before me?”’ Pedro started up, and clasped my arm so powerfully that I -shrank. ‘Señor!’ he cried, ‘As God lives, I saw such a face to-day! It -was that of the man who rode behind him they call Ramirez.’ - -“‘Reyes!’ I ejaculated. ‘Reyes!’ What strange sport made the messenger -of Herlinda the follower of Ramirez? I—” - -Ashley paused, for Chinita echoed the name with an intense surprise far -greater than his own. She clasped her hands to her temples, as though -fearing the mad bewilderment of her thoughts was crazing her. “Tell me -no more,” she said faintly. “Do I not know the unnatural wretch that I -have been? But what of Pedro? Why did you leave him? How dared you leave -him? You!” She turned upon Pepé, accusingly. “He lives, you say, and yet -you are here!” - -“No less would content him,” interposed Ashley, while Pepé muttered an -inarticulate remonstrance. “It was Pepé you had sent upon your errand; -it was Pepé whom Pedro would dispatch with his answer.” - -“Ay!” said Pepé, grumblingly, “and with you I must remain. I am sworn to -that, whether you like it or loathe it.” - -“I,” said Ashley, “have ridden thus far out of the direct path I would -have taken to El Toro, to warn you of the character of the man you have -made your hero; to tell you I believe you to be the daughter of my -cousin, to offer you the home and the fortune that would have been his.” - -He spoke unhesitatingly, yet a strange sense of bewilderment swept over -him. He was conscious that it was no fear of material loss that troubled -him, though not for an instant did he dream of using the advantage of -the law against this defenceless girl; but that this strange impulsive -creature should be of the same blood as he, as the calm and gentle Mary; -that she should come into their life with her wayward passions, her -erratic genius, her weird beauty,—was a thing incomprehensible, almost -terrible. Yet the blood leaped stronger in the young man’s veins as he -beheld her; and his heart bounded as he said, “Yes, I must go; for I -have certain news that the enemy is massing his forces for attack. I go -to warn Gonzales; but I shall return to claim you as my cousin’s child. -Meanwhile, be silent—patient. Pedro prays you keep the secret of your -birth. He believes as firmly as ever that only thus can you be safe. And -for that mother’s sake I pray you be silent. Right may be won for you, -and her good name be still left untainted. There may be a mystery still -to be unravelled.” - -“I will be silent; I will wait,” Chinita said in a cold, hollow voice. - -Ashley noticed that she had no word of sympathy for him, no recognition -of the endeavors that had led to her discovery. Apparently the thought -that he was aught to her was as far from her mind as any grief had ever -been for that other American,—as far indeed as such was at that moment. -For, strangely, Ashley seemed to penetrate the inmost shrine of her -thought; and still the figures around which centred her love, her hopes, -her passions were only those of Pedro, of Ramirez, of Doña Isabel. - -“I will be silent,” she repeated. “Ah, it will be easier now! Yes, -hasten to El Toro, bring Gonzales; he will be a surer, safer leader than -Ruiz—though I will turn him again to my will. Yes, yes, more than once I -have thought Ruiz wavering, uncertain! Now at a word I will make him -what before he has only affected to others to be,—the undying enemy of -Ramirez!” - -Ashley was silent. He would have had this girl passive, supine, womanly; -yet from the very necessity of warning her, he had been forced to arouse -in her this vindictive wrath against the man who had done her -unwittingly such foul wrong. - -“Listen!” he said hurriedly, after a pause. “It is Pedro who implores, -who commands, that until he gives you leave, nothing of what I have told -you shall pass your lips. I might have had your promise before I would -speak. See, the stars are shining that must see me on my way. Give me -two promises before we part,—one that you will be silent; the other that -Pepé shall be continually within your sight or call. For this he was -sent from the side of the suffering, perhaps dying, Pedro. He would have -you safe,—safe from Ramirez.” - -“And I will kill you before you shall fall into his hands,” interposed -Pepé, grimly. - -Chinita smiled with cynical bitterness, and said indifferently, “I -promise. Yes, I promise. Ah, yes, Señor, you will see I have been silent -when you come again. And now I will go back. What if the Señora Doña -Isabel should wake and find me missing?—the child she loves so well!” - -She waved her hand, and stepped backward through the darkness. At the -door of the chamber where Doña Isabel lay, she seemed to vanish into -air, so swift, so silent, was her going. - -Ashley gazed after her long in silence,—so long that another spectral -figure stole through the doorway, and with noiseless steps reached -Pepé’s side. “The Señora slept like the dead,” Juana whispered; “but not -for a thousand hard dollars would I lie in Chinita’s place again, while -she forgets time in lover’s chat. I wonder at thee, Pepé! thou hast not -a man’s heart in thee. I thought thou lovedst her thyself!” - -“Fool!” said Pepé, sulkily, and turned away; while Juana, ill paid for -her devotion, sought a corner of the corridor in which to sink to sleep. - -“Strange, incomprehensible creature!” muttered Ashley at length. “What -emotions, what thoughts are hers? At least it is certain that the -fascination of Ramirez is dissolved,—horror, hatred perhaps, has taken -its place. She is safe. And now Pepé, my horse; I must take the road. -And if it be true that Juarez is at hand, even Ramirez himself may -tremble; the combined forces of Gonzales and Ruiz will hold him at bay, -and keep an open road for the intrepid Liberal to the capital.” - -It was scarcely two hours past midnight, though his interview with -Chinita had lasted long, when Ashley cautiously emerged from the inn, -and took his way toward the open country. The troops lay at the east end -of the town; but giving the watchword to the few sentinels who -challenged him, he avoided them, and soon found himself in the vast -solitude of the night. He had taken the precaution to procure a fresh -horse, and for some leagues the way lay across a level country, so he -made such speed as brought him by dawn within sight of the mountain upon -which Pedro lay,—but on a side many miles nearer El Toro, his -destination, where Gonzales, with his insufficient garrison, was -anxiously awaiting the reinforcements without which he could neither -dare to advance, nor hope to maintain his position in case of attack. - -As Ashley glanced toward the ragged and solitary cliffs where like a -hunted animal the man was lying, he remembered that after the first -horror was passed, Chinita had spoken no more of her foster-father, had -asked no question as to what hands were set to tend him, nor in what -direction lay the cave in which he was sheltered. Such queries would -have been useless,—she could do nothing; yet it would have been but -natural that she should have made them. Even if the gate-keeper’s care -of her neglected infancy was forgotten, or accepted as a matter of -course, and though her mind was absorbed by thoughts of her own history -and her wrongs, yet his very connection with them should have made him -an object of interest if not of tenderness. - -“Heavens!” murmured Ashley, “can it be that this strange creature, as -different in her instincts as in her appearance and education, is of the -same blood as Mary? A bewildering charge shall I take to her, if Doña -Isabel still, to save the reputation of her daughter, lays no claim to -this beautiful girl, and denies her such scanty justice as she can give! -For a daughter of an Ashley must not be left to the sport of -chance,—neither to be sold to the first who bargains for her beauty; -nor, worse still, to be consigned to a convent, as the unhappy Herlinda -was.” He reasoned calmly, yet his heart and temples beat hotly. “Let me -think. If this Gonzales but proves a man of honor, I may gain some aid -from him; he, at least, may know in which convent this woman—whom he -also loved—is immured. By the way, he is a fanatic upon this new scheme -of Juarez, of secularizing the property of the clergy. Ah, in event of -the success of the Liberal arms, that might work countless and -unimagined changes!” - -The thought was full of suggestion. Ashley gave rein to his horse, and -dashed forward with fresh vigor. Afterward he scarce remembered how the -day passed; but its close found him, spent and weary, alighting at the -door of the inn of El Toro. - -Almost at the same moment, far on the other side of the mountain, two -travellers, so wrapped in long striped blankets and covered by wide -sombreros as to be almost indistinguishable, the man from the woman, -drew rein before a mass of cactus and gray rock; and while the one gazed -furtively around, vainly seeking a sign of human contiguity, the other -dismounted, and bending to a mere crevice in the rock gave a long, low -whistle, then turned to help his companion, saying, “That will bring -Stefano. Chinita, thou wilt see that, though a coward, he is no fool, -and has cared well for thy foster-father. Said I not so? Ah, here he -comes.” - -Chinita was cramped by long riding, and was fain to cling to her guide. -She looked around her with a shudder. The wild solitude of the place was -terrible. She feared to move, lest she should find herself face to face -with death. Her head swam, the world turned black before her eyes; and -in the midst a strange hand touched her own. A low laugh sounded on her -ear,—it was that of a woman. - -“Santa Maria!” she heard Pepé exclaim. “It is the Virgin of Guadalupe -herself. It is then that we are too late to serve the poor _padron_!” - -The low laugh sounded again,—there was in it more of madness than -sanctity. Chinita, with superstitious fear and desperation, sought to -wrench her hand from the hot clasp in which it was held. The close air -of the entrance of the cave closed round her, as with persistent force -she was drawn within; and with a scream of terror she fell fainting, -overcome by the excitement and exertion of many hours, and by the -unexpected apparition which had greeted her. - - - - - XXXVII. - - -The illness which attacked Doña Feliz upon the morning that Ashley Ward -set forth from Tres Hermanos, was the first indication of an epidemic -similar in character and force to that which had devastated the hacienda -fifteen years before. Reminiscences of the time of the great sickness -became the absorbing topic of conversation, until the care of the dying -and the burial of the dead silenced all voices, and turned all thoughts -to the overwhelming cares of the present. - -At first with unspeakable remorse Chata attributed the illness of Doña -Feliz to her unwonted exertion in walking to the reduction-works through -the fierce sunshine, and to her grief and shame in discovering her, whom -she believed to be her granddaughter, there in conversation with a -stranger,—from whom a modest maiden would have shrunk in decent coyness, -if not in fear. Chata’s heart burned with grief and remorse. She longed -to throw herself upon her knees, and pour out her soul before the woman -she held in such love and reverence that the thought of her distrust and -displeasure was like a mortal wound in her heart. Yet she was forced to -be silent, before the unconsciousness and delirium which for days and -weeks overpowered the body and mind of the strong, though no longer -youthful, woman. - -It was some consolation to the distressed maiden that she was called -upon, almost alone, to bear the labor and responsibility of the care of -Doña Feliz. Don Rafael was almost helpless before his mother’s peril; -the servants were terrified and incompetent. Soon Chata, in the -incessant toil, almost ceased to think of the trials and perplexities of -her own life, save to cry bitterly to herself that had she never known -before that Doña Rita was not her own mother, the difference in her -bearing at that crisis toward Rosario and herself would have betrayed -the truth. - -“Even Don Rafael,” she thought, “though he loves me, is content that I, -rather than his own child, should risk the danger of the infected -atmosphere.” - -But in truth the alarmed and harassed man was capable of but little -reflection or discrimination as to the actions of those about him. He -gave no heed to the selfishness of his wife or Rosario, while he found -Chata ever at Doña Feliz’s side, tireless, calm, unmurmuring, -ministering with a rare ability, which even natural tact and long -experience seldom combine to produce in such perfection, to the needs -and comfort of the ever delirious patient. He grew speedily to have a -perfect trust and faith in this ministering child; and though once, when -for a little while his mother was silent, and the servants had fallen -asleep, he opened his lips to question her, there was something in the -imploring yet innocent gaze of those clear gray eyes before which he -shrank, as Ashley Ward had done, powerless to utter a word that should -indicate distrust. - -“Perhaps my mother knows,—yes, doubtless she knew,” he said to himself, -with a faint attempt to justify his silence. “_Caramba!_ a man must have -a black heart himself who could doubt the whiteness of so pure a soul!” - -Almost hourly his perturbation of mind was increased by the report of -some fresh name upon the list of the sick. With a faith as profound as -their own in the decoctions of herbs and roots used by the village -quacks, and a superstitious respect for the alleged virtues of blessed -relics and candles, and even for amulets of less sacred renown, he went -from hut to hut, endeavoring to propitiate the favor of Heaven by -charitable deeds,—thus perhaps gaining for himself a more personal -affection than the mere clannish regard which he in a measure shared -with the actual proprietors of the vast estate, but which was not strong -enough to insure him against the wit or malice of the dependent yet -utterly indifferent and irresponsible host he attempted to govern. A -doctor had been sent for, and also a priest; but neither appeared,—the -priest perhaps because the last one, who had but lately left there, had -given accounts of Doña Isabel’s proceedings little likely to be -acceptable to the Church. This added to the perplexities of Don Rafael. - -In the midst of them he was one day accosted by Tomas, the husband of -Florencia, who in tones of genuine distress, which for the time gave -pathos to his usual drunken whine, bewailed the sickness of his wife, -and related how, spurning his care, she called vainly upon her Uncle -Pedro (not a day’s luck had befallen them since he had left them), and -upon the Señorita Chinita (praying his grace’s pardon for mentioning one -whom the Señora Doña Isabel herself had chosen to be a lady), to come -and give her a cup of cold water,—as if he, Tomas, himself had not -spilled over her a jar of honeyed _pulque_ in the vain effort to pour a -draught down her parched throat. It was plain to see that the woman was -doomed, and that it was for her the corpse-candles had been lighted. - -“The corpse-candles!” echoed Don Rafael,—for he well knew the popular -superstition at Tres Hermanos, that when the burial lights were to burn -in the great house, their spectral counterfeits were first seen in the -ancient dwelling where the spirits of the early possessors of the -hacienda still guarded treasures, which awaited some daring and -fortunate claimant in a descendant who should combine their faith with a -tenacity of purpose and an untiring energy worthy the riches that had -eluded their own weak and inconstant efforts. Had indeed the conclave of -shades gathered to welcome another unsuccessful toiler among them? Don -Rafael shuddered and crossed himself, and wondered that there was no -news of Doña Isabel. He gave Tomas a silver piece, and told him that it -was not for Florencia, or even for his own mother, that the -corpse-lights of the Garcias would burn blue, and sent him away -comforted. - -An hour later, through the medium of the fiery liquors distilled from -the agave, Tomas had so far strengthened his courage that he forgot the -corpse-lights altogether, until he saw them again at midnight glimmering -in the distance, not only behind the hacienda walls, but fitfully in the -darkness of the middle distance. He crossed himself, as he fancied he -caught at intervals glimpses of spectral bearers. His comrade on the -watch jested at the fears that he opined transformed the soft brilliancy -of the large and brilliant firefly into the light of ghostly candles; -and Tomas was content to yield to the soporific charm of the mescal, -rather than contest the matter with his drowsy comrade,—who, with a -regularity which custom made invariable, at certain intervals awoke and -emitted the shrill whistle that proclaimed that the sleepers of Tres -Hermanos were safe beneath his vigilant care. - -Just at dawn the man straightened himself suddenly before the rampart -against which he had been leaning, gazed over the landscape with keen -apprehension, and uttered a faint cry of consternation. The sandy line -between the hacienda gates and the village had become a living one. -Whence had the figures stolen? There they stood motionless, horse and -man. The watchman stooped and shook his unconscious comrade. “Mother of -Jesus!” he cried; “your corpse-lights were in the hands of living men. -They are here! they are here! Ah, they are knocking upon the doors! That -fool Felipe is turning the key in the lock! Up! Up!” At the same moment -his whistle sounded shrilly, and the crack of his rifle upon the air -woke the slumbering tenants of the assaulted house. - -Too late! the unwary gatekeeper was surprised; the heavy doors were -forced open, the courts in an instant were full of armed men, and Don -Rafael, half dressed, staggering from his scarce tried slumbers, was -seized by a half-dozen soldiers, while a voice he well knew, though it -came as if from the dead, and knew to be that of a man who was as -inflexible in act as unscrupulous in purpose, exclaimed,— - -“How now, Don Rafael? Doña Isabel Garcia has at last showed her true -colors. It is for Gonzales and the Liberals the men and treasure of Tres -Hermanos have been accumulating! What, nothing for her Mother the -Church? Ah, it is the old story,—nothing for those of her own -household!” - -The unwelcome intruder glanced around him with the air of one familiar -with, yet inimical to, his surroundings; he laughed as he dropped the -point of his sword upon the brick pave, and his spurred heel rang upon -the stone step. Yet a close observer might have noticed a false note in -the light and scornful tone, as though some poignant memory troubled his -present purpose; and it was with a half evasive though still a -threatening glance, that he lifted his eyes to encounter those of the -administrador, who stood a disordered and helpless but resolute prisoner -upon the steps above him. - -At the sound of voices and the tramp of men, Chata had run hastily out -from the room of Doña Feliz, whose illness had approached a crisis. The -press of men prevented her from reaching Don Rafael, who imperatively -signed to her to retreat. Still she would have dared much to reach him; -but catching a glimpse of the triumphant countenance of the man at the -foot of the stairs, she drew back, covered her face with her hands and -fled precipitately,—in fear for herself perhaps, but more with an -instinctive feeling that her presence endangered rather than helped her -foster-father. That the General José Ramirez had entered Tres Hermanos -in a mood to seize any pretext to assume toward it and its people the -_rôle_ of an injured and desperate man, was to be seen at a glance. The -very soldiers had already divined as much, and were leading their horses -and mules to drink at the fountain, and invading the arbor and lower -rooms; the sound of their jests and laughter was mingling with the crash -of the great flower-pots, carelessly pushed from their stands, and the -sharp crack of jars of the quaint black and gilded ware of Guadalajara, -which ornamented the corridors. - -Chata re-entered the room of the sick woman, with pallid face and lips, -and eyes expanding with a terror such as the mere sight of the imminent -destruction of material things alone could not have occasioned. Terrible -had been the tales she had heard of houses laid waste and property -destroyed; yet even when the horrors seemed about to be repeated around -her, she felt that she could have endured them bravely as among the -chances of war had not this invasion brought to her an intensely dreaded -and peculiar danger. She passed the group of alarmed and excited women -who gathered at the bedside, uttering exclamations of terror, and -kneeling at the head of the couch she clasped in her own the hand of the -unconscious Doña Feliz. - -“Grandmother, my dearest!” she murmured in a low voice, yet full of -agony; “surely he will not tear me from thee! Oh, rather may I die with -thee!” - -“Oh, by the saints,” cried the voice of Doña Rita in her ear, “for my -child’s sake, Chata, rise and fly to him! It is thou only who canst save -us. What did I tell thee in El Toro? Doña Isabel has ruined us! but for -her foolhardiness in sending aid to Gonzales all might have been well; -but that has brought the wrath of Ramirez upon Rafael!” She turned -toward her prostrate mother-in-law, with something very like fury, -clenching her hand and crying, “Ah! ah! your clever deception will not -seem so happy a one when you wake to find it has killed your son! That -is what you deserve! You deceived even me. Do you think had I known, I -would for all the favor promised me have played mother to the brat of -Leon Vallé?” - -The women ceased their cries to listen to this frantic outburst, which -though but Greek to them, had a sound of mystery, which for the moment -deadened their ears to the increasing tumult without. “Leon Vallé!” said -one in an awe-struck voice,—“that was the Señora’s wicked brother.” - -“Leon Vallé!” echoed Chata, a new light dawning upon her. “Maria -Sanctissima, can it be?” - -“What more natural?” cried Doña Rita, testily. “Was he ever weary of -extorting some proof of Doña Isabel’s devotion? But _Dios mio_, there -was to be an end of her infatuation! Had he not killed her child? What -better chance for vengeance was she to find than to conceal, destroy, -every trace of his, when with devilish mockery he thrust it upon her? -But then he might have known it was like thrusting the lamb into the -jaws of the wolf. On my faith, girl, it maddens me to see you standing -there motionless, when it is as if the legions of Satanas himself were -loose. Go! go! I say, to soothe him. Entreat him to restrain his troops. -The house will be sacked. Who knows what horrors may follow!” - -“I will not go to him,” said Chata, slowly, a red spot burning upon -either cheek, her eyes dark with horror. “If he is indeed the man you -say, will he not defend the home of his sister? If I am his child, will -he not claim me? If he does, I must submit; but go to him—No! To save -the hacienda—what has Doña Isabel done for me? To save my life—no!” - - - - - XXXVIII. - - -In the few moments during which this scene had passed, the administrador -at a sign from the General had been half forced—though he made no -attempt at resistance—to the lower corridor. Thence he followed his -captor to a dining-room, where a servant with terrified alacrity was -already bringing in cups of chocolate for the breakfast, while a woman -with a tray of small loaves of sweet-bread in her hands dropped it -incontinently at sight of the dreaded Ramirez. He laughed, throwing -himself into a chair, and looking around him with the furtive glance -with which men involuntarily regard places or persons connected with -memories distasteful or horrifying. There was an image of the Virgin of -Guadalupe at one end of the apartment, with a small lamp burning before -it. He crossed himself, and muttered an _Ave_ as he looked at it; then -pointed to a second chair and the cups of chocolate. - -“It is early, Don Rafael,” he said lightly, “but I have a soldier’s -appetite, which the fresh air has sharpened,—and you know the saying, -that a stomach at rest makes an active brain; so accompany me, I -entreat, in breaking the morning fast, and then let us to business.” And -with a show of indifference, which imposed far better upon his -followers, who made an interested throng around the door, than upon Don -Rafael, he tasted the chocolate he had drawn to his side. - -The administrador remained standing, though the two soldiers, who had -each held an arm, released their grasp and stepped back. Disconcerted by -the thought that in his dishabille he could scarcely present a dignified -figure, Don Rafael still maintained his composure sufficiently to refuse -the proffered refreshment with the air of a man who questions the right -of another to play the part of host,—assuming, in fact, toward the -intruder rather the attitude of personal than of political hostility. - -Ramirez divined this, and his face darkened. “You know me, Don Rafael,” -he said in a low tone, “and that I am a man to take no denials.” - -“Yes,” answered the administrador, shortly, “I know you. The saints must -have blinded me that I was so easily deceived upon your last visit; but -you had always the power to mask your face at will.” - -“Bah! every man has a dozen countenances at his command, if he but know -how to summon them,” replied Ramirez, carelessly, “and a touch of art to -fix their coloring, and twist the eyebrows or moustache. Why, even your -mother was deceived! Where is she now? Ah! that woman was like Isabel -herself; I swear she would have killed me, even when she seemed to love -me most. It is the way of women, like serpents, to twine and sting at -the same moment.” - -“My mother is dying,” said Don Rafael, lifting his eyes for a moment -upon the face of the image of Mary. “Yet living or dying, it is not for -a man to hear another speak lightly of his mother. But this is nothing -to the purpose.” - -“Nothing,” replied the other, accepting the rebuke; “and I have no time -to lose.” He seemed to forget the chocolate, pushing the cup from him, -and turning as if to rise from the chair. “Look you, Rafael, what money -did Isabel leave with you? Not half her resources went in that mad freak -of raising a troop for Gonzales.” - -Perhaps Don Rafael had expected the question, for his countenance -remained imperturbable. “There are horses and cattle and corn and men, -still,” he answered. “The administrador of Tres Hermanos can do nothing -to defend them; but the money,—by Heaven and the Holy Virgin, its -hiding-place is known only to him, and he will die before you shall have -another dollar to add to those which have cost so much blood and so many -tears!” - -Ramirez’s eyes flashed; yet the look of astonishment which he threw upon -the small, half-clothed man was as full of admiration as though he had -been a king clad in royal robes. But even a king would not have thwarted -Ramirez with impunity. - -“You know me,” he reiterated in the same intonation with which he had -before spoken the words, allowing a long, dark, intimidating gaze to -rest upon the face of Don Rafael. - -“Yes, I know you,” was the answer as before. “Yes, I know you; and it is -for that reason I have said that never a dollar belonging to the woman -you have so foully wronged shall pass into your hands. Thank Heaven that -she is not here to be tempted! Thank God that while the identity of -Ramirez with the bane and curse of the house of Garcia has been shaping -itself in my mind, no hint of the truth has been in hers!” - -“I do not believe it!” cried Ramirez, violently. “She hates me! for the -sake of that puling boy and her dotard husband she hates me still! ‘The -bane of the house of Garcia,’ said you. Why, what man among them has a -name beyond his own door-stone but me? And the women! Ah, ah! What saint -would have saved the fame of the women of the house of Garcia had it not -been for me?” - -Don Rafael glanced around him warningly,—the room was full of strange -faces, beginning to light with wondering curiosity at this strange -conversation, so different in substance from that usual between the -guerilla and his victims. This was no place in which to talk of women; -yet Don Rafael himself desired to avoid a private interview with this -man, while Ramirez on his part assumed an ostentatious air of having -nothing to conceal,—nothing that he might be ashamed his followers -should learn. He knew, in fact, that at that crisis, surrounded as he -was by the most unscrupulous and desperate characters, the prestige of -his mad career might be advantageously heightened rather than -diminished, if he would keep his ascendency. Don Rafael read his -thought, and lest in very hardihood his opponent should be led to -accusations or revelations it would be impossible for him to leave -unanswered, he began one of those long and desultory conversations that, -while apparently frank and unstudied, are triumphs in the art of -avoiding or concealing the real subject at issue. - -Ramirez, well as he knew the tricks of the genuine ranchero, whether of -the higher or lower grade, was himself for a time deceived,—for, with -far less than his usual astuteness, he allowed himself to lapse into -occasional denunciations, and to make demands of the administrador that -increased the curiosity and interest of his listeners. These did not in -any degree shake the constancy of Don Rafael, who, with the thought that -the crisis of his life was approaching, crossed his arms upon his breast -and fortified his courage with the remembrance of the vows by which he -had pledged himself, and the less heroic satisfaction that he promised -himself then in thwarting the plans of a man whose will had been as -triumphant as it was insatiable. - -Meanwhile, the tumult in the house increased. A wild rumor had spread -that the General José Ramirez was by right the master of the place and -all it contained. Some said he was the lover, others the brother, of -Doña Isabel. At last, even the name by which he had been known there -began to be shouted, though the sound of it was less popular than that -by which he had won his way later to fame. Still, it gave a certain -authority for license where there had been before a show of restraint; -and a speedy assault was made upon the store-rooms and granaries, and -even upon the inner chambers and courts, which contained nothing but -furniture and ornaments,—useless to soldiers on the march, or even as -booty for their wives and followers. - -Ramirez listened to the tumult without attempting to interfere. -Evidently his object was to break the resolution of Sanchez by an -exhibition of the destructive and unscrupulous character of his -followers. But Don Rafael never winced except once, when the cry of a -woman pierced the apartment. - -Ramirez heard it also. “Ah! it came from the kitchens, from some -scullery-maid,” he commented after a moment. “Now, Don Rafael, you see -and hear for yourself what a crew of devils I have with me,—just the -riff-raff of the mountains, whom that cursed Pedro failed to wile away -from me. _Caramba!_ never was a surprise greater. It would not have -happened but that like a fool I lingered near El Toro waiting for a -chance to pounce upon Gonzales. Never let a private vengeance sway the -judgment,” he added sententiously. “A thousand devils! It seems as if -the hacienda were tumbling about our ears! Yet at a word I can stop it. -Where is the money?” - -“If the din never ceases till I reveal that,” answered Don Rafael, -doggedly, “you will never have your revenge on Gonzales; for what I have -sworn I have sworn. The flocks and herds I can’t defend; and what are a -few hundred beeves or horses? But the money; no, by God! if Doña Isabel -herself should command it, I would not suffer that another coin should -touch your bloody hand!” - -Ramirez started up with an oath. Involuntarily he glanced at his hand. -It would not have surprised him to have seen it literally red,—and, -strangely enough, the blood gushing from the fatal wound he had dealt -the American, just from the arms of Herlinda, rather than that of his -nephew or Don Gregorio, was that which presented itself to his mind. He -walked the room in a new and undefinable excitement. The sight of Don -Rafael, to whom the destruction of the property that was precious as his -life seemed as nothing to the pleasure of baffling the man he abhorred -of the money he believed absolutely necessary to his success in leading -troops to encounter the well-reinforced and well-equipped Gonzales, -revealed to him the hatred and horror in which he was held. Doubtless -that of the servant was but a mere reflection of that of Doña Isabel. - -Well, let them hate him with reason; let the wild mountaineers take -their own sport unchecked. He heard one of the clerks, flying rather -than running through the corridor, exclaim that Don Rafael must come, or -there would be a famine in the place before the next harvest; that the -great storehouses of maize had been forced open, and the contents -scattered throughout the village for horses and men to tread under their -feet; and that the very oxen and sheep were revelling in the abundance, -liable to destroy themselves by very excess, even if the soldiers should -fail to drive them before them. - -Ramirez and the administrador glanced at each other. They had not spoken -for many minutes, each feeling the other implacable, yet each perhaps -believing that the wanton destruction would appeal to the other’s weaker -or better nature. Ramirez grew crimson, almost black, with inward -rage,—rage as great with those who were wreaking destruction on his -sister’s house, as with this insignificant yet determined man who -withstood it. Don Rafael was white as death, his lips blue, his eyes -strained; again the cry of a woman sounded on the air! It came from -above. He started toward the door. A dozen hands seized him. Ramirez -turned upon him with his drawn sword. - -“Where is my daughter?” he demanded in a voice of fury. “I will find a -way to force the gold from you, but first my daughter,—where is she?” - -“Your daughter?” echoed Don Rafael in a tone of such absolute amazement -that even Ramirez was for a second distracted from his rage. - -“Yes, my daughter! She whom you have aided Isabel to hide from me all -these years. Faith, it was a pretty trick,—an eye for an eye, with a -vengeance. But after all it was a petty plot, and soon fathomed. You -were less jealous of flesh and blood than of this cursed gold, and gave -me the first inkling of her whereabouts yourself.” - -“I?” exclaimed the administrador; “I? What know I of a child of yours?” - -“Ah, that is what you must satisfy me of. Where is she,—the Chata, whom -you nodded and hinted about so mysteriously in your cups so many years -ago?” - -Don Rafael—if it were possible—turned a shade whiter than before; his -form seemed to shrink, his heart sank with guilty shame and absolute -terror. How well he remembered those few words, which, though so -indirect and apparently unimportant, he had thought of with remorse a -thousand times. And to what a terrible, though utterly unforeseen, -conclusion they had led this man! He lifted his hands above his head. - -“By the Blessed Mother, I swear,” he said, “that I know not what you -mean! I know nothing of a child of yours!” - -Ramirez looked at him contemptuously. “You will tell me next that the -child your wife denies is yours,” he said. - -In effect it had been upon the lips of Don Rafael to claim Chata as his -daughter, as he had done a thousand times before. Was she not his before -all the world? Had she not been from the very moment the eyes of his -wife had rested upon her? But she had betrayed the confidence to which -she had been but partially admitted,—Rita! He hesitated, and Ramirez -seized the advantage. - -“You dare not!” he exclaimed. “Your wife has confessed all: it will -never do to trust a woman with a secret in company of a man who cares to -learn it, though very perversity might keep her silent with a world of -women.” The sight of the discomfiture of Don Rafael had restored to -Ramirez some portion of good nature. “The screeching has ceased,” he -added. “Yet I am a fond father. I would assure myself of my child’s -safety. Where is the girl? I must and will see her, if but to tell her -why I played her false last week. Where is my daughter?” - -Don Rafael’s face, which throughout this interview had retained its -pallor, crimsoned with excess of agitation. The mystery of Chata’s visit -to the hacienda was revealed. Had she met this man? Did she know—did she -believe? He remembered her changed aspect, her silence, her tears. -Ramirez stood watching him with impatience, yet triumph. The crimson -flush convicted the administrador. Don Rafael strove in vain to steady -the glance of his suffused and burning eyes, to still the throbbing of -his temples, while he sought to command the most impressive and -convincing words in which to answer and forever silence this mad -assumption. But none presented themselves. The group around listened -breathlessly, more excited than Ramirez himself. They looked silently -from face to face of the two men who were engaged in this singular -dispute. Inside the room one might have heard a feather float through -the air, so deep was the silence; and at last, in despair of finding -imposing words, the administrador uttered the simple denial, “Chata is -not your child.” - -Most of the men drew back for the moment convinced. Not so Ramirez. “It -is false!” he cried. “I have your own maudlin hint, and your wife’s -positive confession, that the girl is neither hers nor yours.” - -Don Rafael grew pale again. There was that in his face which would have -augured ill to Doña Rita had she seen it; but he said with an effort, “I -will not give my wife the lie. The child is neither mine nor hers!” - -“Then whose—whose but mine?” demanded Ramirez fiercely. - -Don Rafael paused a moment as before. In an instant he had recalled -the circumstances that had attended the adoption of the child. Rita -had been young, placable, easily pleased with a gift: the fewer -confidants the better; it was ever the duty of a Mexican wife to obey -unquestioningly,—she had been obedient then; it had not been necessary -that she should know more than it had been wise to tell. Don Rafael -drew a deep breath of relief. Ramirez and the group around him watched -him narrowly. - -“Declare then!” queried Ramirez at last, “whose daughter is she if not -mine?” - -“I will not say,” answered Don Rafael; “but I do swear she is not yours. -Stay,” he added, struck with an idea. “What reason have you for thinking -she is yours?” - -“Reason!” echoed Ramirez scornfully; “because fifteen years ago, more or -less,—perhaps you have reason here to remember well that year,—I sent my -child here, to Doña Isabel: it was a whim of mine that she should have -tender nurture and decent training. I was a fool to trust a woman’s -love. Of course Isabel remembered her own bantling, though I had even -some foolish thought that the little one I sent might console her,—most -women have hearts for baby wants and fancies that sicken men. Of course -for her it was a chance for revenge too good to be lost. I have been in -two minds ever since I knew how she scorned my trust whether to be angry -or pleased with you for aiding her purpose. But let it pass; yield the -child and the money quietly and”—he looked over his shoulder with an -impatient frown—“that infernal tumult and destruction shall cease. If -not—” - -“I will yield neither the girl nor the money;” replied Don Rafael. “They -are neither of them mine nor yours; but I have possession of both, and -will keep them.—Surely Rita has both girls in the secret recess, as we -have always planned in such a case as this,” he thought, with a qualm at -the remembrance of his wife’s treason, as revealed by Ramirez. “Surely -at such a time she will protect a young damsel, even though she be not -her own child.” - -Ramirez looked at him with a lowering brow, repeating again, “If not -mine, whose child is she? By Heaven, I know she is mine! There could not -be on all the earth a creature in whom Doña Isabel or Feliz or yourself -could have so deep an interest as to trouble yourself for life with his -child. It is incredible, impossible. Unless she is—” He paused on the -name, looked round him, clinched his hands, advanced to Don Rafael, and -gazed searchingly into his face. - -Don Rafael did not flinch. Ramirez burst into a laugh. “I would have -killed you had you dared even to have looked askance,” he said. -“_Caramba!_ the women of the Garcias may be fools or devils,—they have -shown the spirit of both; but if a man should ever kill another because -of one of them, it would be for his daring, not in revenge of his -triumph.” - -Did these words indicate a tardy repentance, a conviction that Herlinda -had been indiscreet but innocent? Don Rafael had no time to discuss the -question with himself; but he had such new insight into the mind of -Ramirez that he was warned from giving any fresh cause of offence. Had -he had no previous reasons, it would have been a sufficient one for him -to keep inviolate the secret which he had sworn to preserve to his -life’s end. In his present humor, the man with whom he had to deal would -in his baffled and vengeful rage have spared neither the name nor fame -of even his own mother, had occasion offered to tempt him to blacken it. -Don Rafael believed the women of his household as well as the money safe -in the hiding places he had constructed for them,—the first known to -Doña Feliz and Doña Rita, the second to himself alone. To any fate that -might befall himself he looked with stoical courage if not indifference. -Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms defiantly and awaited -events. - - - - - XXXIX. - - -At high noon a terrible and heartrending wail of anguish sounded through -the house, penetrating with dismal insistence through the clamor of the -soldiery and the thousand indescribable noises of the animals, which had -been hastily collected; and which added the element of mere brute -bewilderment to the scarcely more reasonably restrained terror of the -people. - -Ramirez had recognized the obstinate defiance of the administrador. More -than once before he had dealt with others as tenacious of the interests -of those they served. He had no time to lose in vain persuasions, and -had himself conducted the search throughout the vast building, of which -he believed he knew every nook and corner. But he had to his amazement -and chagrin found neither treasure nor any member of the family of the -administrador save the apparently dying Doña Feliz. After a fruitless -endeavor to recall her to consciousness, he left her with a curse, and -returning to her son, assaulted him with menaces, alternated with fair -promises,—the one as little regarded as the other. - -Upon one subject only would Don Rafael permit himself to speak; and to -that Ramirez, in his rage, refused to listen. The suggestion that his -daughter, if indeed he had a reason to seek one there, might prove to be -Chinita, the foster-daughter of Pedro Gomez, he received with utter -contempt. He remembered her well, he said; an imp as black as Pedro -himself,—black as he must be now, scorching in Hades. That little demon -was none of his, while Chata had the very face of his mother,—the face -of an angel. Ah! ah! that was indeed a daring jest, that Isabel should -strive to palm off upon him the brat of her doorkeeper! Once long -before, like the witch she was, the girl had stopped him and thrust into -his hand an amulet,—he drew it from his pocket, and cast it from him. By -the way, now Pedro was dead, if Rafael still believed her worth a -thought, he had better see in such a day as this that she had some other -protector. She must be nearly a woman now! - -Ramirez fell into greater rage when he learned that Doña Isabel had -taken charge of this despised waif. He swore that it was in mockery of -himself; and Don Rafael soon perceiving that every word he uttered was -construed as an attempt to deceive, and fearing that at some time it -might bring evil upon the girl to whom, whether she were the daughter of -Ramirez or no, he certainly desired no harm, the administrador became -utterly silent, in his heart commending the prudence of Rita in -following this time with exactness his instructions, and condoning the -treason of which by the assurances of Ramirez he had been forced to -believe her guilty. - -In truth, although at first the alarmed and not too scrupulous woman had -urged Chata to secure the safety of herself and her child by claiming -the protection of Ramirez, as time passed and he made no movement toward -such recognition she began to distrust the effect it might produce upon -the renowned guerilla. He and his soldiers were there for plunder and -rapine, not paternal sentiment. As the cries of the women-servants and -villagers reached her, the resolution to seek safety in concealment -seized her. Though still far from wishing to conceal Chata from Ramirez, -to whom the accidental sight of her might recall some sense of mercy or -tenderness, she feared both him and her husband too greatly to dare -leave her to the chance of insult from the licentious soldiery. But -Chata absolutely refused to leave Doña Feliz, from whose side even the -servants had fled; and it was her scream that had penetrated to the -rooms below, when, by the friendly force of Don Alonzo, she was immured -with Doña Rita and Rosario in the secret recess, which Don Rafael had -constructed with a vague apprehension of such an emergency. - -It chanced that this recess, which was in the immensely thick outer wall -of the great house, was dimly lighted and ventilated by a loop-hole so -small as to be barely visible from without, but which opened funnel-like -toward the inside of the apartment. Through this loop-hole these three -women, whose voices were quite inaudible to those either within or -without the building, heard confusedly the village cries, and caught -uncertain glimpses of the space outside the hacienda gates. After what -seemed hours of incarceration, during which Rosario had fretted and -slept, and Doña Rita had alternately chided and lamented, while Chata -entreated to be released that she might return to the side of Doña -Feliz, they saw with anxious surprise a crowd gathering upon the sandy -slope; not of the soldiery alone, but the people of the -hacienda,—clerks, workmen, women who were wringing their hands and -uttering sharp cries of terror and entreaty, which ended in that deep -wail, which seemed to signify some agonizing catastrophe. - -Doña Rita was the first to divine what was happening. “Maria Purissima!” -she cried. “Is it possible Rafael is as mad as the administrador of Los -Chalcos,—that he has refused some demand? Does he not remember how -Ramirez caused that poor foolish one to be hanged without mercy! O my -husband, my husband! Oh! has he no thought for me, for his child, that -he will sacrifice his life for Doña Isabel? How will she thank him? -Whoever thinks twice of the foolhardy obstinacy of an administrador?” - -Chata sprang to her feet. “Give me the key!” she cried. “Let me go! Now -if Ramirez is my father, he shall prove it! Would he deny his daughter -the life of her foster-father? Give me the key!” - -“No, no!” screamed Doña Rita, “the place is full of ruffians. Ramirez -himself is a tiger! I—” but Chata had wrenched the key from her numbed -and shaking hands, and thrusting it in the lock had turned the grating -wards. - -When she rushed into the corridors they were empty,—there was a sight to -behold elsewhere. On she flew, not noticing that Doña Rita and Rosario -followed, and that their shrieks rose with hers, as in a minute or less -they reached the outer court, and strove to penetrate the throng that -filled it and extended to the village beyond. - -Within the high arch of the doorway, clear against the deep blue of the -mid-day sky, swayed the figure of a man,—of Rafael Sanchez. Below, sword -in hand, stood Ramirez and two panting laborers who that instant had -accomplished his decree. Around them were gathered scores of armed men, -evil-eyed, with the ferocity of brutes in their faces; and Ramirez stood -pre-eminent, a very demon. - -The crowd parted like water before the shrieks of the three women. In a -moment Chata reached the side of Ramirez, and grasped his sword. “Spare -him! spare him!” she demanded rather than entreated. “If I am your -daughter, cut the rope! Spare him, and do as you like with me; else I -swear I will die with him rather than be known as your child!” - -The women were on their knees,—not Doña Rita and Rosario alone, but all -those of the village. Sobs and entreaties filled the air. Ramirez threw -a glance of triumphant admiration upon Chata, and put one arm around -her, while he raised the other, pointing with a nod to the swaying -figure. - -A man sprang to cut the rope, and the administrador fell into the dozen -arms stretched out to receive him. Chata saw with infinite joy that he -was not dead. He threw up his arms, gasped, opened wide-staring eyes. A -moment later, she was hurried away. Half-fainting though she was, she -was glad to escape that embrace from which she dared not shrink. - -“Ah, Rafael, you are conquered,—I have the girl! And now where is the -gold?” she heard Ramirez exclaim, and saw the gesture of defiance with -which the scarce conscious victim answered this demand. - -An hour later Chata was riding by the side of the baffled Ramirez. She -knew not whether her foster-father was living or dead, and dared not -ask; but stifling her sobs, looked back through a mist of tears upon the -desolated hacienda. It was incredible even to her horrified and longing -gaze, the terrible devastation that had been worked in a few short -hours. Seemingly to complete its ruin, a thunder-cloud, which had been -lurking over the valley, discharged its contents over the devoted house. -Upon the hills the sun shone; Chata was safe from the fury of the storm. -And yet she felt as though the very wrath of heaven had burst over her. - -“_Caramba_, Chatita! thou wilt make a soldier’s daughter yet!” Ramirez -was exclaiming. “By my faith, I am proud of thee!” In spite of the -unattained gold, he pressed on in rare good humor. His fury, like the -storm, was quickly expended. “And by our Lady of Glory I am glad that -you came in time to save that obstinate fool, Rafael. He has, after all -is said, served me a good turn in aiding Isabel to put what she meant -for a shabby trick upon me. _Caramba!_ It was clever of her. I should -never have discovered it but for a slip of the tongue on Rafael’s part -which no one else would have noticed, and but for thy wonderful likeness -to my mother,—the angels give her good rest!” - -Chata could not be grateful for this favor of nature; it seemed to her -indeed the bitterest spite that could have been wreaked upon her. She -turned her eyes upon the face of Ramirez with a questioning glance, -which startled him: those gray eyes, limpid and clear as they were, were -far different from the large, languorous, black ones of his mother,—yet -not unfamiliar. Where had he seen such before? The inquiry was not worth -a special effort of memory. Enough that the eyes were beautiful. The -very softness and appeal in their expression held a peculiar charm for -this fierce, hard spirit. He had begun a denunciation of the revenge -practised against him by his sister, but he abruptly paused. What if -this young creature knew nothing of those wild deeds of bygone years? -Why shock her tender and immature mind by the recital of such episodes -as she would view but at their darkest? For the first time in his life -he felt the impossibility of impressing his hearer with the daring -rather than the villany of his deeds, and rode beside her in silence, -furtively watching her face, which with wonderful control, indicating a -latent strength of character, she suffered to reveal none of the horror -or fear with which he inspired her, but only the natural grief with -which she had been separated from the home of her childhood. - -Indeed, the thought of Doña Feliz was the dominant one in Chata’s mind, -and prevented any serious grief or alarm as to her own situation. The -question of her own safety or future position troubled her little. It -was the fact of her separation from the beloved and stricken friend, who -was so dependent upon her care, and her absolute horror of the murderer -of the American,—for as such Ramirez ever figured in her thoughts,—which -rendered it so difficult a task for her to retain her self-possession -and answer with calmness the few questions or remarks that were from -time to time addressed to her. - -Chata soon perceived that as the day wore on, and she began to exhibit -signs of fatigue from the hurried march and the heat, her presence -caused far more anxiety than triumph to her captor. “The old folly!” he -muttered from time to time,—“to act without counting the cost. I doubt -whether there is a decent woman among this drove of camp-followers. If I -had but thought to bring one from the hacienda! In fact, it was a fool’s -act to bring the child at all, with such work before me as I have!” - -Chata caught these broken sentences with a wild hope that he might -decree her return to Tres Hermanos. Willingly would she have risked -going alone on foot if necessary. But the sun set, the shades of evening -closed in, and the hurried march was still pursued, until, when she was -ready to faint with fatigue, the General ordered a halt, and lifting her -from the saddle, placed her upon a pile of blankets; while a half-dozen -men set to work with practised hands to build a little hut or tent of -mesquite and manzanita boughs to shelter her from the night air. - -As the weary girl sat near the tent fire, endeavoring to eat the food of -which she stood in much need, but for which she could not force an -appetite, she found herself the centre of a wild horde of perhaps nearly -five hundred persons, of whom a fifth were women and children, who were -busy at the fires preparing the evening meal while the men were staking -horses, or patrolling the circle of the camp, keeping within bounds the -hard-driven and panting cattle and sheep, whose distressing lowing and -bleating at intervals filled the air. Apparently there was an entire -lack of discipline, the unreasoning enthusiasm of the moment and the -personal magnetism of the renowned leader serving to hold the unruly -elements subservient to the necessities of the occasion, and obedient to -his slightest mandate. The majority of the troops were of the most wild -and even savage appearance; for, as their leader had said, they were the -riff-raff, the scourings of the mountain villages and remote farms. -Chata was not unaccustomed to the sight of such individuals, but in mass -the impression they made upon her was of concentrated evil. The trace of -gentler feeling that each face or person might have revealed on scrutiny -was lost in the prevailing ferocity of expression and accoutrement. The -clash of arms, the jingle of spurs, the hoarse voices made her shudder -no less than the sullen faces, the gleaming eyes, and the sinewy and -powerful frames. - -Strangely enough, as her eyes followed Ramirez, a sense of his complete -harmony with his surroundings seemed in the girl’s mind to condone the -wild deeds of which he had figured as the hero. She realized for the -first time the fascination that unlimited power over such elements must -exercise over a mind given to daring, and uncontrolled by any moral -principle. She thought of Chinita, and how her adventurous spirit would -have exulted in such an adventure as this. As she gazed into the fire -the very face of that fearless, enigmatic young nature seemed to rise -before her, beautiful, passionate, yet with that capacity of endurance, -which in a man might become cruelty, that capricious changeableness, -which one moment dissolved in tears, and the next shone in a smile. So -real was the vision that Chata started, and found herself gazing -affrightedly into the face of Ramirez, who was regarding her with the -expression of mingled affection, triumph, and vexation which had not -left his countenance since he had set her upon Doña Rita’s favorite -horse at the door of the hacienda. - -“I have a notable project in my mind for you,” he said abruptly. “You -know that I am the Governor of Guanapila.” - -“Yes,” she said timidly; “but I thought—” she hesitated, fearing to -offend. - -“Ah, you thought I was beaten and barred out. They will find I am -neither one nor the other. The gate is shut but not bolted, and it will -be hard if I find not a way to creep in. It is impossible for me to keep -you with me on the march. You must be with some woman.” - -“Oh, I would rather be with you. Indeed I will give no trouble! I will -be brave!” she exclaimed, instinctively shrinking from the thought of -contact with such women as she saw around her. - -He smiled with gratification, his egotistic nature flattered by the -thought that he was gaining her confidence; but his face darkened as she -added with hesitation, “I had hoped—I thought perhaps you were taking me -to my mother.” - -“It is not of your mother I was thinking,” he said ambiguously, “when I -spoke of Guanapila, but of my niece Carmen de Velasquez. She knows that -the General Ramirez once sent an escort with her mother to Tres -Hermanos, and levied upon her husband for a loan of ten thousand dollars -when he might have had five times as much,—for the old fellow she has -married is rich, and does honor to the financial acumen of the fair -Carmen, and we will see whether she has a just appreciation of the -favors I am supposed to have rendered her. There, go to your tent and -sleep in peace; in three days you shall be safe within the house of -Velasquez in Guanapila.” - -It cannot be said that Chata slept in peace; yet the prospect was -reassuring, and enabled her to bear with resignation the fatigues and -excitements of the following days, and the loneliness and terrors of the -nights. The General slept before the opening of her tent. Upon the -fourth night he awoke her, and handed her a torn and shabby reboso and a -skirt of coarse red cloth, with instructions to put them on. She did so -with some repugnance, though the clothing she left was not better; and -at a call stepped out into the starlight. The young Captain Alva -preceded her in silence outside the limits of the camp, where two horses -were in waiting, held by a man whom at the first startled glance she -failed to recognize. It would have horrified her beyond control had she -known that in his size and air and dress he was the image of the -ranchero who had entered Tres Hermanos on the night of the murder, years -before. She uttered a cry of relief as Ramirez greeted her. - -“Ah, is it not a perfect disguise?” he said. “Why, I might go into El -Toro itself with impunity! Mount, child, and keep close at my side!” - -In a minute or less, with the assistance of Alva, Chata was ready for -the start,—her courage rising with the sense of mystery and daring under -which Ramirez seemed to glow and expand. He paused to give his last -commands to Alva, of which she heard only the concluding words: “Reyes -should be here by daylight. Keep him at all hazards, for he must sound -Ruiz before another day passes. _Caramba!_ I cannot believe that fellow -has failed me; but whether or no, the end will be the same,—except that -I swear if Ruiz prove false, were he twice my godson he shall not escape -my vengeance.” - -The General pulled his hat over his eyes, waved his hand, struck the -spurs into his horse, and led the way at a swift canter. Chata until -within the last few days had never ridden on horseback; but she was -singularly free from fear or awkwardness, and with ease, though in -silence, kept at his side. - -“Chata,” Ramirez once said abruptly, turning his dark and piercing eyes -upon her, “I am risking much for your sake. Remember that you are my -daughter. Be faithful to me, obey my bidding, and I will cherish you as -the apple of my eye. It may depend upon you whether the troops of Doña -Isabel follow my lead or that of Gonzales. You will know my meaning -later; but I swear to you, as I have done by Ruiz, my vengeance shall -rest upon whomsoever balks me,—yes, if it is even you, the newfound -daughter whom I love.” - -Chata trembled. Though his words were an enigma, they indicated that her -_rôle_ was not to be an utterly passive one. Her companion awaited no -answer, and Chata did not attempt to make one. They rode on at ever -increasing speed as the night advanced. Just at daybreak they reached a -hut, which was placed at the mouth of a cañon. There they left their -horses, and an old woman appeared with a crate of turkeys in each hand, -one of which she gave to the disguised chieftain, the other to the -wondering Chata. - -An hour later they were in the streets of Guanapila, and before they had -broken their fast Chata sat overcome with fatigue and dismay upon the -stone stairs that led to the corridor of a palatial residence. The -ranchero, as the servants supposed him, had gone to speak with the lady -of the mansion. It was a long time before he re-appeared; and when he -did, a beautiful woman preceded him. She was very pale, and there was in -her eyes an incredulous and startled expression, which changed to pity -as her gaze fell upon Chata,—who, looking up, thought of the pale and -lovely face she had seen but once, and knew she must be in the presence -of Carmen, the sister of the nun of El Toro. - -Ramirez whispered a word in the ear of the bewildered girl, it might be -of warning or of farewell; but her senses failed her,—she neither saw -nor heard more. - -“Go, go!” cried the mistress of the house. “For God’s sake go, before -there is any one to wonder. Whether your tale be true or false, she has -the face of a Garcia, and a loveliness and sweetness of her own. I will -guard her as though she were my child. Go, go! and the saints grant you -a safe passage. I will not betray your confidence. Ah, she has fainted! -I will manage that; it shall be my pretext for charity.” - -Ramirez kissed the hand of the unconscious Chata, and turned away. For -once he had executed an act of extreme self-denial, yet amid it all his -crafty mind foresaw how he might use it to his advantage. - -The exit from the city was readily effected, but Ramirez did not proceed -many miles unrecognized after mounting his horse at the hut where he had -left it. The man who spoke his name unhesitatingly, though in a cautious -voice, was Reyes. He gave the General unwelcome tidings. Gonzales had -joined forces with those of Tres Hermanos. He had risked the attack and -occupation of El Toro, and it was conjectured would attempt the march to -the Capital itself, round which the audacious Juarez was from his -stronghold in Vera Cruz directing the concentration of the Liberal -forces. - -Ramirez ground his teeth in rage. “I have been delayed and hampered by -that girl,” he cried. “Could I but have gone straight to Ruiz, he would -not have dared defy me. As it is—” - -“As it is,” interrupted Reyes, “all is not yet lost. I have still to see -Ruiz,—he is not my son if it is impossible to convince him upon which -hot plate the cake is best toasted.” - -The conference of the two men lasted but a few moments. They had been so -accustomed in their long intercourse to treat of subjects of which one -was as well informed as the other, and upon the course to be taken at -the present time they were so well agreed, that they parted with no -attempt at explanation, but simply after a few words of instruction had -been given by Ramirez to the other. - -“Tell him,” the chief said finally, “I am ready to fulfil my word; and -if Ruiz be anxious to see her, let him risk as much for love as I have -done. She is at the house of Doña Carmen Velasquez in Guanapila; and -tell him as surely as he is my godson and your son he shall be shot as a -traitor if he fails me in this affair. Good-by for a time; good news or -bad news, my blood is up for a desperate venture now. It cannot be that -after all these years luck is turning against me at last.” - -“It did that years ago when you stabbed the American,” thought Reyes as -they parted; “it was that that weighted the scale. That accursed -foreigner who is here to avenge him has upset all our plans for -misleading Gonzales. With both together Ramirez has fearful odds against -him, which even with the help of Ruiz and his men he may find it hard to -combat. But how in heaven’s name has the General his daughter with him? -_Caramba!_ I have often wondered how he would relish that drunken freak -of mine! Faith, I did not care to try his temper to-night by many -questions. Well, who would have thought he would have kept in the same -mind for so many years! To think of his striving to give her the family -training at this late date! Ah, ah, ah! it is more likely to mar than to -make her. If Fernando is of my mind he will wait in such a matter for no -pruning and training, but pluck the flower while it is within his reach, -thorns and all.” - -With which poetic simile, Tio Reyes rode on well pleased on his errand -to the young Ruiz, while Ramirez, proceeding rapidly in the opposite -direction, regained within the hour his enthusiastic but disorderly -horde. - -XL. - -Vain would be the attempt to describe the consternation of Doña Isabel -when she awoke at early dawn, and felt about her that peculiar -stillness—a stillness that seems absolutely tangible—which indicates the -abstraction of the element of humanity from the associations about us, -and is especially impressive when that loss is utterly unexpected. - -It was not yet daylight, and it was by this peculiar stillness, and not -by sight, that Doña Isabel learned with a deadly feeling of dismay at -her heart, that she was alone. For a moment she lay silent, then raising -herself on her elbow sought to peer through the gloom, while with -faltering voice she uttered the name “Chinita.” - -There was no answer. She would have been inexpressibly surprised had -there been; and yet refusing to be convinced, she arose from her bed and -made her way to that of Chinita. Had the girl been there, in the -infinite relief and excitement of the moment the lady must have clasped -her in her arms with kisses and tears; as it was, after passing her -hands wildly over the empty couch, she sank upon it with a deep and -bitter moan, feeling anew, and with the intensified agony of -remembrance, the shock with which she had heard the cry of Herlinda,—“My -husband! My husband!” What but a like betrayal could in that place and -time have drawn a young girl from her chamber? Alas! alas! - -The thoughts of Doña Isabel flew to Ruiz; a thousand trifles, unheeded -before, crowded her remembrance as confirmation of some secret -understanding between him and Chinita. If she had noticed them at all it -was to think with a smile that they had reference to Rosario. How had -she been so blind! She sprang to her feet and hastily dressed herself -with some undefined intention of seeking him in his quarters, and -demanding an explanation of him if he were to be found, or of confirming -her worst fears if he had fled. All her old distrust of him, which he -had so skilfully lulled, returned with overwhelming force, and in her -unfounded suspicion she included the more just one of treason to her -purposes to the cause of liberty and to Gonzales, and with irresistible -certainty became convinced that the delays and detours which Ruiz had -made had been expedients of traitorous policy. In the few moments needed -for the completion of her toilet, a terrible fear took possession of -her. For the first time that night she had been separated from the main -body of the troops,—what if she were abandoned! Nothing seemed more -likely. Only the great self-possession that she habitually practised -prevented her from rushing out—yes, even into the streets of the -village—to satisfy herself that the rude encampment remained unbroken. - -Yet with all this raging excitement of grief and doubt within her, she -presently stepped out upon the corridor with that stately calmness which -she ever wore before the world, were it represented by but the meanest -peasant. Day had scarcely broken, yet there was a sound of movement -unusual in so small a place. To the excited mind of Doña Isabel it -appeared that like herself the people all must be searching wildly for -the girl who had so strangely escaped her. She went to the inn door and -looked out. The camp-women were wandering through the streets already, -chaffering and bargaining with the vendors of milk and bread and -vegetables. In the distance she saw the soldiers preparing for the -march. Three or four officers were lounging down the narrow street. To -her infinite surprise and relief she saw among them Ruiz. He hastened -his steps and joined her with an air of consternation, which even in her -excitement she noticed had in it a subdued suggestion of apprehension as -of one detected in some doubtful act. - -In a few words Doña Isabel apprised him of the disappearance of Chinita. -It was impossible that it could be concealed; it was absolutely -necessary that search should be made. Ruiz listened with an emotion -greater even than hers. “Good heavens, Señora!” he cried, “we are -undone. Ramirez must be at hand. In some way she has learned his -whereabouts; she has fled to him!” - -Doña Isabel thought Ruiz had suddenly gone mad. “Fled to Ramirez!” she -cried. “Impossible! What can she know of the man? What object can she -have in seeking him?” - -Instinctively the lady had led the way back to the room she had left. -Ruiz followed her, in the utter demoralization of his mind at the -unexpected tidings, pouring out incoherent explanations of the designs -that Chinita had cherished, and unconsciously revealing much of the -duplicity of the part he had himself acted. With an acuteness of mind -perhaps intensified by the keen emotion with which she listened to the -unexpected accusations against the young girl, Doña Isabel conjectured -at once that the speaker had played a double part; and it was a not -improbable solution of the mystery of Chinita’s disappearance, that in -discovering this the young girl had resolved to precipitate a crisis in -the fate of the man who exercised so unaccountable a fascination over -her. - -Yet with whom had she fled? Had Ramirez himself stolen into the inn and -borne her away? The face of Ruiz blanched at this suggestion. Had the -girl learned what was indeed a fact, that upon that very day the troops -of Doña Isabel Garcia were by their officers to protest against a -further attempt to reach Gonzales, and declaring Ruiz their chosen and -permanent leader were at once to take up the march to join the forces of -General Ortega, a newly arisen and popular Liberal chieftain who was a -personal and implacable enemy of Ramirez,—thus leaving El Toro to its -fate? Had Chinita indeed gone with such news to Ramirez? Ruiz felt that -his doom was sealed, for he rightly conjectured that the excitement of -Chinita’s disappearance had already dampened the ardor in his behalf -which he had found it a slow and almost impossible task to awaken among -the troops. Indeed, that it had been roused at all was owing to the -discontent which had arisen through the cleverly concealed tactics he -had used in contriving so long and monotonous a march to the aid of a -man but little known or admired, and from the general belief in the love -of the beautiful _protégée_ of Doña Isabel for the young aspirant for -fame. In her hand the favor of Doña Isabel was supposed to lie. Eager -for action, eager for booty, brought to a point where they were almost -within sound of the bugles of General Ortega, who was making his hurried -and triumphant march to the capital, it had been decided that upon that -very morning a _pronunciamento_ should be made, which, while involving -no change of politics, should compel the consent of Doña Isabel to the -apparently spontaneous outburst of patriotism upon the part of her -troops, and confirm Ruiz in the command that she had temporarily -confided to him. - -Ruiz had so cunningly planned every detail that he doubted not that not -only Doña Isabel, but Chinita as well, would be convinced of his entire -ignorance of the _coup_, and that the girl’s ambition, and perhaps a -somewhat malicious satisfaction in the reversal of the plans of Doña -Isabel, would lead her to an acceptance of the apparently unavoidable -forfeiture of her own desires. - -To this end the ambitious young officer had been patiently working since -the day he had found himself at the head of the troops of Tres Hermanos. -He had been amazed at his own success. Everything had seemed to -contribute to it. Not even the triumph of seeing himself actually -attracting the good-will, if not the love, of Chinita had been denied -him; and now at the moment least expected, at the most critical -juncture, she had failed him. It was impossible for him to assume his -usual self-sufficient air as he re-issued from the apartment of Doña -Isabel,—an air that imposed on the majority of observers as that of a -man conscious of power, rather than as a disguise of incompetency. His -crest-fallen bearing as he gave the necessary orders for scouts to be -sent out in search of those who in the night must have left the -ill-guarded town was evident to the most careless eye, and did much to -increase the feeling of distrust and coldness that was already beginning -to supplant the ill-considered ardor of a few hours before. - -The scouts had been despatched; and the main body of the troops waited -for marching orders, which were long delayed. Ruiz, closeted with the -men who had been most amenable to his reasoning, urged openly the -arguments that he had but covertly suggested before. That exhausted -apathy which following an exploded project is far more hopeless than -that which, merely unignited, precedes its agitation, resisted all his -efforts at revival. The officers, like the soldiers, listlessly waited -to hear what would happen next, absolutely indifferent to Ruiz, and -concerned for the moment in a mere matter of gossip,—the escapade of a -young girl. - -Toward noon some of the messengers returned. Most of them had nothing to -report, but the vaquero Gabriel, the husband of Juana, as soon as he -could escape the questioning of Ruiz, disappeared. An hour later he -entered the apartment of Doña Isabel. - -“What news, Gabriel, what news?” the lady cried excitedly. “Did you come -upon any trace of—of the child; of those who have stolen her away?” - -The vaquero shook his head, and Doña Isabel groaned. Those few hours had -wrought a terrible change in her appearance. She was not young and able -to meet shocks of disaster as she had been when they had shaken her in -by-gone years. - -“I found no trace of them, my Señora,” said the man, slowly. “Perhaps my -eyes are not as keen as they were, and they say when one thinks much one -sees little. Since I am married I find one must think. A woman gives one -abundance for thought. She grinds care for a man more surely than corn -for his bread.” - -Doña Isabel looked up at him quickly. She knew that this oracular -sentence had some bearing on the subject that absorbed her thoughts. -“Speak,” she said. “What has your wife to do with this?” - -“She was the playmate of the young Señorita,” he suggested. - -“True, but what of that?” - -“She would be likely to be in her confidence,—at least where there was -no other to trust.” - -Doña Isabel started, looking at him with fixed attention. - -“The thought came to me as I rode out of the town,—it came back to me -again and again. After hours of vain search I suffered myself to be -convinced. I came back and taxed Juana with knowing with whom, and when -and where, her friend had gone.” - -“Well?” ejaculated Doña Isabel, in extreme agitation. - -“She denied it. By all the saints she denied it; but I had a saint she -had forgotten to commend herself to.” He smiled significantly. - -Doña Isabel understood the arguments used by rancheros to refractory -wives too well to doubt what his grim jest meant. At another time she -would have indignantly dismissed from her presence the man who admitted -laying a hand in castigation upon his wife; now she merely by an -imperative gesture urged him to finish what he had to communicate. - -“It was as I thought,” he said coolly. “Two men talked with her last -night. The one was Juana’s brother, Pepé; the other was the Señor -Americano your grace knows of.” - -Doña Isabel sank back in her chair as if struck by a sharp weapon. “The -American! the American!” she repeated again and again. She felt as -though a hand had been thrust from the grave to torture her. The -superstitious dread which had been planted in her breast by the first -glimpse of the face of Ashley Ward, and which had perhaps led her -irresistibly to a course that the resolution of years would under -ordinary circumstances have rendered impossible to a nature as tenacious -as was her own, became a horrible certainty. Evil fate in the guise of -the American appeared to pursue her. Whatever the purpose with which he -had lured Chinita from her side, it could but be productive of woe for -her. Would the tale of her daughter’s shame and her own apparent -heartlessness be told throughout the land? Had this pale and seemingly -spiritless young man resolved on such a vengeance of his cousin’s -fancied wrongs? Or—worse still—was this but a repetition of the old, old -tale of passion and folly? Doña Isabel covered her face with her hand -and groaned again. - -Gabriel had called his wife to the room, and she came with eyes red with -weeping, and told the tale that seemed to her best. Fearful of bringing -the vengeance of the Señora upon Pepé, should she avow that he had left -the inn alone with Chinita, she declared he had but accompanied the -American, whom she boldly affirmed had set out for the coast, with the -young girl, intending to set sail for the wild country whence he had -come. - -Doña Isabel and Gabriel both knew too well the inventive genius of their -countrywomen literally to believe all she said; yet as hour after hour -passed by and no news of the fugitives was heard, and no trace of them -in spite of the most untiring search was found, they were at length led -to conclude—the one with despair—that Juana’s words were true, and that -the brief connection of the beautiful foster-child of Pedro Gomez with -the lady of Tres Hermanos was ended forever. - - - - - XLI. - - -Never perhaps did so marked a change occur in the discipline and -carriage of any body of troops, from a cause apparently so slight, as -that which followed the flight of Chinita. Of the visit of the American -nothing was publicly known, but the wildest rumors of her probable -action ran like wildfire through the ranks, the name of Ramirez coupled -with her own being on every tongue. So potent was the fame of the -guerilla chieftain and the fascination of Chinita, that a word from her -at that excited moment would have acted like fire on straw, and set a -blaze to the smouldering insubordination and disappointed energies of -the baffled and impatient recruits, who had entered upon the service -from love of adventure and booty rather than with any fixed convictions -or an intelligent conception of the interests at stake. - -Doña Isabel wore before the world the same impassive face as ever, but -at night the demon powers of remorse and intolerable anxiety wrought -cruel havoc with its beauty. It was impossible too for her to conceal -utterly the suspicion and distrust with which Ruiz inspired her; and the -influence which through Chinita mainly he had for a brief period -acquired, both over Doña Isabel and the troops, and which at best had -been looked upon as a privilege he should yield later with his authority -to Gonzales, began to wane rapidly. Dissatisfaction and mutinous -threatenings were manifested on every hand, and the position of Ruiz but -for the presence of Doña Isabel would have been absolutely untenable; -and a crisis was evidently imminent, when the long desired leader -suddenly appeared to relieve the tension of the situation, and to awaken -a frenzy of enthusiasm for the cause, which had been at the point of -abandonment. - -It was with intense relief that Ruiz himself greeted the appearance of -Gonzales, unexpected though it was, and incomprehensible the means by -which he had obtained information that had led him so completely to -alter his plans. That the American was concerned in the matter Ruiz did -not doubt, though he could imagine no clew to his motives, the -conviction being still in the mind of the baffled officer of Chinita’s -indifference to Ashley, and of her flight to Ramirez. - -It was with amazement and alarm that Gonzales witnessed the ravages of -time and care upon the once beautiful and stately Doña Isabel. The very -excess of joy with which she welcomed him seemed weak and pitiful. He -had been detained long upon the way from El Toro by a series of petty -annoyances, such as the bad state of the roads and a succession of -trifling skirmishes with the enemy, resulting in burdening the march -with the care of the wounded; and thus the loss of Chinita had become to -Doña Isabel by the time of his arrival an assured fact. With tears of -anguish she told him of the ingratitude of the child she loved, though -she carefully concealed the fact that she supposed her to be other than -one of the class of people from whom she had taken her; and with this -explanation only Gonzales could not enter fully into her grief, or -accept the fact that the loss of her _protégée_ was indeed the entire -cause of her anguish. Had she not mourned for years as he had the living -entombment of her daughter Herlinda? Had not the sight of him revived in -her mind the keenness of her woe? - -Doña Isabel was ill both in body and in mind; worn out with anxiety and -the fatigues of travel, the reaction occasioned by the appearance of -Gonzales was doubtless too great for her enfeebled powers. To his -extreme embarrassment and anxiety he found himself charged with the -unexpected responsibility of the care of a lady of much social -consequence, and one personally extremely dear to him, who was stricken -with an illness that demanded the most efficient attendance and complete -isolation from disturbing influences. Added to the present necessity of -gaining the confidence of the disorganized troops, and of continuing the -march with the most unrelaxing vigilance, the situation thus became most -onerous to the young commander,—not the less so because of the presence -of a man he had thwarted and displaced, and whom it was necessary to -keep in view and perhaps conciliate. - -Upon the next night after the arrival of Gonzales, when Ruiz with -seeming cordiality though with relief and rage contending in his mind -had yielded his command, he strode to the outskirts of the camp, and -smoking or rather forgetting to smoke a cigarette, mentally reviewed -with bitter disappointment the perplexing and conflicting events that -had led to so utter an overthrowal of his carefully concocted schemes. -With the rapidity and excitement of his thoughts, his pace increased as -though he was striving to tread down his mortification while he was -preparing therefor a speedy and certain revenge. - -The thought of this was chiefly directed toward Chinita. But for her -flight Ruiz doubted not his position would have been so firmly assured -that he would have been enabled to carry out his schemes. Thus he had -hoped to find himself at the head of a force which in the event of final -victory would have recommended him to the highest honors in the gift of -Juarez, or at any rate assured him against the vengeance of Ramirez. To -treachery time had added actual hatred of the man who had befriended -him, and whose evil deeds, while he professed to abhor them, he would -have rejoiced to have courage and address to imitate, and of whom he -still held a superstitious dread, which had once been absolute awe. - -It maddened the recreant follower of Ramirez to think of Chinita in the -power of such a man. That day the last wild escapade of the lawless -adventurer, the torture of Pedro, had in some way reached the ears of -Ruiz and destroyed a lingering hope he had cherished that the girl, -proud and hard though he believed her, had in some impulse of affection -gone to her foster-father,—a thought that he had not even hinted to Doña -Isabel, for with petty spite he refrained from uttering that which he -imagined might give relief to her long agony. He imagined how Chinita, -who doubtless had seen through his double dealing, would make it -contemptible by her scorn, and ridiculous with her irony; and how -Ramirez would, after listening to her account of him rise his sworn -enemy: Ruiz had witnessed such scenes. No; return to Ramirez was -impossible. Besides, that chieftain’s ultimate defeat was certain: the -Liberal cause was strengthening every hour. Ramirez must have lost his -former keenness to follow thus a losing venture. Ruiz began to console -himself by thoughts of how, though only in a subordinate part, he should -assist in the discomfiture of the proud general and that of the girl who -loved him,—for the ignoble youth was incapable of believing hers to be -the love of a mere unreasoning child, though to a purer heart her words -would have a thousand times declared her enthusiasm to be but a -fanatical admiration, untouched by a tinge of passion. The maddening -jealousy that had raged in the heart of Ruiz since he had learned of the -flight of Chinita, and had rendered him incapable of a sustained effort -to renew the ambitious projects so fatally shaken, now flamed up with -cruel intensity; and yet he loved her. At that moment he would have -liked to throttle her, yet would have recalled her to life with words of -passionate love and burning kisses. - -As he pondered, he struck his breast with his clinched hand. -“_Caramba!_” he muttered, “is all lost? Is there no way to overset this -miserable favorite of the Señora? Maria Sanctissima! who is that?” His -hand like a flash passed to his pistol. - -“Hist!” said a voice. “It is I, Fernando. I have not a moment to spare. -I have tried to gain a way to thee for an hour or more. I know all that -has passed. Fool! thou shouldst have raised the battle-cry for Ramirez -before this Gonzales reached thee; there were men with thee who would -have sustained thee well!” - -“Bah! a man has opinions,” answered Ruiz, coolly, recognizing the voice; -“and if Ramirez still chooses to fight for the priests, that is no -argument for my being as mad. I tell you plainly, Father, I am tired of -playing a boy’s part; you will hear of me yet as something more than the -lieutenant of Gonzales.” - -“Big words, big words,” laughed Tio Reyes. “Now listen to that which I -have to say to you;” and leaning from his saddle in a few concise words -he delivered the message of Ramirez, adding a few paternal injunctions -as to the conduct Ruiz should in future observe. - -“Up to this time nothing is lost,” he continued; “in truth had you acted -in good faith, no course could have been better save this last step,—but -that may easily be recalled. Ramirez will soon be prepared to attack -Gonzales in force; his mind was set on regaining El Toro, but that can -be deferred. ‘When the loaf is cut the crumbs may be soon eaten!’ Be you -prepared to pass over to your rightful commander at the last moment with -all your men. The rest of the troop will follow like sheep. Bah! what is -the name of Gonzales to that of Ramirez! With the forces we could then -combine, what might we not attempt! I promise you in the name of -Ramirez, on his honor as a soldier and his faith as your godfather, a -free pardon for all that has passed. _Caramba_, man! I can’t imagine how -you could have been so mad. I have seen the girl who has bewitched you, -and by my faith I thought her nothing more than any other brown chit, -save that her eyes were darker and bigger than most, and her tongue -sharper than a man cares to find between his wife’s lips! What, you -hesitate? You believe Ramirez at the bottom of a pit, and the pit dry? -Fool! He has treasure you know nothing of; and as for men, did the -mountain villages ever fail him?—and you know how many may be counted on -here. _Caramba_, try them! Tell them he has sacked Tres Hermanos.” - -“I know it,” said Ruiz, thoughtfully, “and doubtless the booty was -great!” - -Reyes shrugged his shoulders but did not contradict him, reiterating -again and again the assurances of the favor of Ramirez in the event of -Ruiz’s acceptance of his proposals, and on the contrary the chief’s -determination to wreak an awful vengeance upon his god-child should he -prove obdurate and attempt to carry to injurious lengths the treacherous -intrigues which he had designed against his benefactor. - -Ruiz vehemently denied his guilt, yet hesitated to make promises which, -whether kept or broken, might make still more dubious his future -position. Reyes read his mind, and at length said coolly,— - -“The fact is, you have been bred a servant of Ramirez. When I swore the -service of my life to him, yours went with it. You are the one creature -in the world he has never met with a frown or given a harsh word to; but -do you think he will spare you for that? No; if you should fall into his -hands as a traitor, which sooner or later you would be sure to do, you -would be shot! Yes, like a dog,—” and the speaker spat on the ground to -emphasize his contempt. “But if you are reasonable he will forget all -that has passed,—more than I would do in his place I can tell you; ay, -he will even give you his daughter.” - -“His daughter!” echoed Ruiz with a sneer. - -“On my soul, you must be hard to please,” cried his father. “For the -girl’s sake I was sorry enough he killed the fool of a gatekeeper five -days ago. For all her proud ways, she loved him like a child,—more than -she will love Ramirez though he is her father, when she hears of this -mad deed.” - -Ruiz sprang to his side. “What do you mean?” he cried, seizing his arm. -“Is Chinita the daughter of Ramirez? Is she with him? Is she indeed the -girl who has been promised to me for these years and years? _Por Dios_, -what would I not do for her? What would I not dare? But I do not believe -it. Ramirez knows I love her; this is but a deception. Ah, I know him -too well!” - -Reyes laughed. “He told me if you were not satisfied you might go and -see for yourself. Faith, he had no thought you loved her already. I met -him on the road as he came back from leaving her. Does that surprise -you? He is a careful father; she is in the house of the Señora’s -daughter, Doña Carmen.” - -Ruiz seemed stunned. Reyes saw that his point was gained, and uttered -but a few words more, which elicited only the response,—“Ramirez’s -daughter? Wonderful, wonderful! And after all, she will be mine. -Heavens! how can I live a day longer without seeing her? Commend me to -the Señor General. You know, my father, my heart is good, though my -brain may have erred! Tell me, has she said but one good word for me? -She—” - -“Enough!” cried Reyes, laughing the more. “I have not seen her, I tell -thee; and if thou wouldst know what she thinks, find a pretext and see -her at Doña Carmen’s house. It was a strange freak of the General’s to -take her there, but a happy one. Thou shalt not be molested on the way, -I promise thee. But I have no further time for talking. Adios! thou art -the only man I have ever seen whom love has brought to his right senses. -It will be well if thou art as sane a year after the wedding!” - -The two men embraced, in the fashion of the country, and with an ardor -on the part of Ruiz that he seldom affected. - -“_Caramba!_ the father is a man of a thousand,” he muttered to himself -as he watched him disappear, guiding his horse so deftly that not a -sound broke the silence of the night. “Virgin of consolation!” he -continued, as he walked slowly back to his quarters. “This is like a -dream. Plague upon it! That is the fault of my father; he is always in -haste. I would have asked him a thousand questions, had he given me but -a quarter of an hour. But it is of Chinita herself I will ask them. -Surely she must have shown some favor toward me, or my godfather would -not recommend me to her with such confidence. _Santo Niño_, show me some -way to make it possible to steal into Guanapila and exchange a word with -her!” - -The curiosity of the young man as much as his love prompted the latter -aspiration. His suspicion of the identity of Ramirez with the brother of -Doña Isabel, the Leon Vallé so long supposed dead, returned to him with -force; but he longed to know whether the secret of her birth had been -conveyed to Chinita, and how her flight had been contrived. He pictured -her then like a bird in a cage beating herself against the iron bars of -Doña Carmen’s windows. That was not what she had hoped for when she had -talked to him of Ramirez. If she had tolerated him before, would he not -now be doubly dear, as one who should liberate her from the natural -restraints of a maiden’s life? - -Ruiz forgot his fancied wrongs in an intoxication of delight. Constant -pondering upon the question how he should manage to evade the vigilance -and suspicions of Gonzales and effect a visit to Guanapila kept him -preoccupied, yet feverishly alert, until the increased indisposition of -Doña Isabel brought about what appeared to him a special interposition -in his behalf, and in pleading for the aid of “Our Lady of the -Impossible” he promised her in pious gratitude a candle of enormous -proportions. - -To reach a point where he might leave his generous but failing friend -had become the most earnest desire of Gonzales. But its fulfilment had -seemed an impossibility, for from the time he assumed command of the -troops almost hourly news had been brought to him of gatherings of bands -of Conservatives, which promised to offer formidable resistance to any -movement he might make; and until Doña Isabel was safety disposed of, he -desired at almost any risk to avoid an open collision. - -The march had slowly proceeded, and so constantly had Gonzales been -occupied, and so serious became the condition of Doña Isabel, that there -was but little conversation between them, and somewhat to his impatience -that on her part had been limited to a few brief sentences of warning -against Ruiz and constant inquiries for Chinita, and entreaties that -search should be made for her in every direction. - -Gonzales, as far as was possible, had obeyed these inopportune requests; -but the anxiety and grief that prompted them seemed to him strained and -unnatural, though he could not doubt after due inquiry made that the -lost girl was of remarkable beauty and of an original and fascinating -character. Still, his knowledge of the class whence he supposed her -sprung had made quite credible to him the generally accepted theory of -her flight. Yet he started when Doña Isabel had mentioned the American -as her probable companion or instigator, adding in a low voice, “Twice -an American has robbed him.” What did she mean? His cheek flushed as he -remembered that it had been said that for love of the murdered Ashley, -Herlinda had taken the veil. And had Doña Isabel dreamed that he would -find consolation after so many years in this beautiful peasant girl whom -she had raised from the dust? Gonzales silently resented the -insinuation. Yet none the less the suggestion of the complicity of the -American in her disappearance haunted and vexed him. He did not tell -Doña Isabel that to Ward he owed the definite news of the approach of -reinforcements, and that he had virtually left him in charge of El Toro, -and that the commission from Juarez for which the foreigner had applied -had already doubtless reached him. Had he betrayed this young girl,—the -_protégée_ of Doña Isabel,—in spite of his zeal in his service the -American should have much to answer for to him. A few weeks would decide -all. He preferred to wait patiently the development of affairs, and -refrained from perplexing further the mind of Doña Isabel. - -Meanwhile the condition of the lady had become rapidly worse. Perhaps -she had brought from Tres Hermanos the germs of the disease that during -these very days was working such terrible havoc there; perhaps the long -days and nights of exertion, anxiety, and grief had produced it,—but -certain it is that as the position of Gonzales became more critical, so -the imminent danger of Doña Isabel increased. A desperate evil commands -a desperate remedy. So it was at length decided that an effort should be -made to convey the lady to the city of Guanapila, to the house of her -daughter Doña Carmen; and Ruiz, in the utter impossibility that Gonzales -found of personally conducting the party, was permitted to execute the -delicate and important trust. - -With an apparent readiness of resource and disregard of danger, which -commended him greatly to the perplexed General, Ruiz himself had -proposed the measure. - -Taking the precaution to send with him men from Tres Hermanos only, and -such as he knew to be warmly devoted to their mistress, Gonzales acceded -to the plans of the wily young officer, and despatched him upon the -important and seemingly dangerous mission. - -After the separation of the detailed party from the main body, -skirmishing parties began upon the latter frequent and harassing -attacks, and the suspicions of Gonzales were again aroused by the -impunity which Ruiz enjoyed, yet alternated with fears for his ultimate -safety. He could scarcely believe that knowing it to be in their power -to secure so rich a prize as Doña Isabel, the hungry forces of the -clergy would suffer her to escape, unless indeed Ruiz was himself as -false as he had once suspected. Again and again he reproached himself -for yielding to the apparent frankness and loyalty of the man he had at -first distrusted, and with an anxiety which grew into actual torture he -awaited the outcome of the action which circumstances against his will -and judgment had forced upon him. - -Ruiz, unmolested, made his way as rapidly as the condition of his charge -permitted toward Guanapila. He comprehended well the circumstances which -were distracting the mind of Gonzales. These constant though petty -attacks he knew from information sent by Reyes were destined to weaken -the prestige of Gonzales by a series of petty misadventures, after which -his destruction by the desertion of Ruiz, followed by the mass of the -disaffected, might, it was conjectured, be readily accomplished. It -seemed the simplest matter in the world to effect, and had been -instantly agreed to by Ruiz in the hasty conference with his father. Yet -further reflection gave him an unaccountable antipathy to the course he -was to pursue. It cannot be said that a lingering trace of honor -influenced him, or any genuine disapproval of the character or -convictions of Ramirez, for Ruiz was in the widest sense a man to be -bought and sold, a creature influenced by every turn of advantage; but -in spite of all that had passed between him and Reyes, he doubted the -good faith of Ramirez. The good fortune that was to give him Chinita at -so slight a cost seemed to him incredible. Did the girl love him, and -had she owned as much? Or was she to be fooled into acquiescence in the -plans of Ramirez by the chimera of his parental power? No; he knew -Chinita too well to believe she would marry against her own desire, even -to gratify a parent who exerted over her the extraordinary ascendency -that she had instinctively acknowledged in Ramirez. Ruiz was, moreover, -impressed with a belief in the ultimate disaster of the Conservative -cause. For Chinita’s sake he would risk involvement in the ruin he -foresaw, hoping that by some spar he himself might float; but unless -assured of her good-will,—the thoughts of the young conspirator carried -him no further, unless vaguely to conjecture the extent of power which -he might thereafter exert over the fortunes of Doña Isabel, through his -connection with her mysterious _protégée_. - -With ill-concealed impatience, and hopes and emotions which every hour -grew more dazzling and overpowering, Ruiz at length found himself in the -house of Doña Carmen, and in her presence and that of her young -companion. With inexpressible amazement, instead of her he sought he -found himself face to face with Chata, the supposed daughter of Don -Rafael. - -The confusion and excitement of the arrival gave almost instantly an -opportunity for him to pour into the ear of the young girl the burning -questions which rushed to his lips. In the necessity in which she found -herself to attend instantly the wants of her mother, Doña Carmen left -the young soldier and her charge alone together. Breathlessly demanding -of Chata news of Chinita, Ruiz revealed to the astounded girl the -separation of her playmate from Doña Isabel, the mystery of her flight, -and the extraordinary purposes which the young girl had cherished in -relation to Ramirez. In every word too he betrayed his own love for her -he denounced, and the raging jealousy which possessed him. - -Chata in her extreme agitation, forgetting the promises she had made, -revealed her own connection with Ramirez, in describing in a few brief -sentences the scenes which had taken place at Tres Hermanos, and -especially the means by which she had saved Don Rafael. She could not -comprehend the rage and disgust with which Ruiz flung himself from her -when she announced herself to be the daughter of Ramirez, but a moment -later it flashed upon her that she had heard herself named as the -destined bride of this man who so openly despised her. Had he too known -of the destiny awarded him? She turned from him with a burning blush, -and without a word they parted. She remembered afterward that she might -perhaps have sent news to the hacienda,—to her foster-father Don Rafael, -to Doña Feliz did she still live; but her one chance had gone, and her -semi-imprisonment began anew. Doña Carmen was not again betrayed into a -momentary forgetfulness of her charge. - -Ruiz turned from the house with a thousand conflicting emotions. The -encounter with Chata had produced in his mind an absolute fury of -resentment, as he reflected that this was the girl whom Ramirez had -promised him as his wife,—in his boyhood jestingly; in his manhood as a -reward, an incentive. Heavens! what was this puny creature in comparison -with Chinita? And Chinita was perhaps at that very moment with -Ramirez,—perhaps even laughing with him over the weakness and -discomfiture of the youth they had combined to deceive! With blind and -insensate rage, Ruiz believed himself the victim of a conspiracy between -Ramirez and his own father to substitute this girl for the peerless -creature that he loved, and who doubtless was at that moment in the camp -of her triumphant lover. They had thought to entrap him into furthering -their designs, deeming it impossible that he should enter Guanapila and -discover the trick that was to be played upon him. - -Ruiz did not for a moment conceive it possible that Ramirez had known -nothing of his love for Chinita, or that his father had himself been -ignorant of the identity of the girl whom Ramirez had claimed as his -daughter, or that Reyes had drawn a false conclusion from his own hasty -questions. - -In this mood Ruiz was presently met by old acquaintances, before whom he -was forced to mask his excitement; and moreover they were in festive -humor, which prevented them from being observant or critical. The town, -but imperfectly garrisoned, had for some time held an anxious and -harassed populace, prognosticating nothing but invasion and the levy of -forced loans; but it chanced that on that day a guest had arrived, who -by the mere magic of his presence, unattractive and unimpressive as was -his bearing, inspired confidence and hope. Benito Juarez himself had -made one of those secret incursions for which he was famed, and had -reached Guanapila with the purpose of conferring with such officers of -his party as had ventured to meet him. There were but few, and Ruiz was -honored by an invitation to represent Gonzales. The deference paid him -as a delegate from so important a leader, in command of so considerable -a force, raised to its highest pitch the absolute fury of resentment -that convulsed the desperate lover; and at the banquet that followed the -conference, the wine and flattering notice of the Liberal President -completed the overthrow of the little caution that he had hitherto -maintained in his speech and demeanor. - -The toasts drunk were loud and frequent, and the name of Ramirez was the -most deeply execrated. Many of the young men indulged in extravagant -boasts and declarations as to the deeds they would accomplish in the -near future, scorning the prowess of the man at whose very name they -were accustomed to tremble. Some one spoke with a laugh of a beautiful -girl who had been seen in his company but a few days before. It was not -until afterward that Ruiz reflected that the spy had probably caught a -glimpse of Chata on her way from Tres Hermanos. At the moment his mind -was full of Chinita, and rising impetuously, in a torrent of fiery words -he broke into denunciation and invective, telling the tale of Pedro’s -martyrdom as he had heard it, and vowing that as Ramirez had slain the -poor peasant, so he himself would accomplish the defeat and death of the -“mountain wolf.” “I promise you, Señores,” he concluded, “that when you -next hear of Fernando Ruiz you shall have cause to remember the vow I -have here made. Ramirez is doomed!” - -The stoical man at the head of the table smiled faintly at the storm of -applause that followed this speech, and as Ruiz a few minutes later took -his departure Juarez muttered to his neighbor, “That young fellow will -bear watching. He has either a tremendous personal wrong to avenge, or -he is striving to mislead us. I know him to be the godson of this very -Ramirez, whom he thunders against. A Mexican may turn against, may even -murder, his own father; but his godfather,—he must be a renegade indeed -to attempt his destruction!” His neighbor assented. - -When the words of Ruiz were reported to Ramirez,—as reported they were a -few days later,—he smiled as grimly as Benito Juarez himself had done. -“The cockerel crows loud,” he said. “He was always a blusterer. Well, we -shall see; a week at latest will decide all that. Bah! if the fellow but -had in him the blood of his father!—but with the name of his mother he -must have taken a braggart’s tongue. It will be well for him if he does -not weary my patience in the end. But for my promise to Reyes—” - -He frowned darkly. Had Ruiz seen the face of his godfather then he might -have repented his boast. As it was, his own mad words served as a spur -urging him to the inevitable future. He returned to the camp of Gonzales -unmolested, and was received with intense relief, with thanks and -praises, yet wore thereafter a dark and vengeful face. - - - - - XLII. - - -The arrival of Doña Isabel at the house of her daughter brought a change -into the life of Chata that might have been considered even more dreary -and oppressive than the semi-imprisonment to which she had thus far been -subjected, though she was spoken of as an honored guest. In fact this -change was most welcome to the young girl; for while it afforded her -even less freedom of movement, it gave a sufficient reason for her -seclusion, as also occupation both to body and mind. - -What had been the nature of the communication that Ramirez had made to -Doña Carmen, Chata knew not, but it had evidently impressed that lady -with a deep sense of responsibility. In those days there were even in -the quietest times no regular mails into the country districts, and this -gave a ready pretext to Doña Carmen for resisting all attempts to -communicate with the household at Tres Hermanos. The highways, infested -as they were by roving bands of soldiers and banditti, were indeed -scarcely safe for the transmission of even peaceful intelligence; and -thus none reached Guanapila from the hacienda, and Chata, and in a -lesser degree Doña Carmen herself, endured a painful uncertainty as to -the condition of Don Rafael and of Doña Feliz and others whom Chata had -left stricken with the dreaded fever. Day by day she had awaited news; -day by day she had hoped for the appearance of Doña Isabel and -Chinita,—while Doña Carmen, after listening with astonishment and some -manifestations of displeasure to the account Chata gave of the departure -of her mother from Tres Hermanos under the escort of troops destined to -the relief of Gonzales, gave the opinion that the destination she would -seek would be El Toro rather than Guanapila. - -“My sister the religious is at present there,” she said; and Chata with -glowing face, and lips that trembled at the memory, told her of the -chance glimpse she had once caught of the beautiful and saintly nun. - -Doña Carmen’s eyes filled with tears, and she silently embraced the -girl; the little incident drew Chata nearer to her heart. “Ah, child,” -she would say, “I never have known, I never could conjecture, why our -beautiful Herlinda chose so sad a life,—it must be sad to be shut away -from this fair world, from sweet companionship, from love. Yes, Herlinda -might have chosen from among a score of the handsomest and noblest of -cavaliers. And then our mother,—how she loved her! one might see it -through all her sternness. I never knew the truth, yet I am sure a great -and terrible sorrow caused Herlinda to enter a convent. She had no -inherent fitness, no liking natural or acquired, for such a life.” - -Doña Carmen was not accustomed to speak thus freely of family affairs. -She had much of the characteristic reticence of the Garcias. Chata met -many of the younger members from time to time. They were too well bred -to show any curiosity concerning her; but among the servants of the -household and of others, there was much gossip as to how and why she had -come, and what relationship she bore to the husband of Doña Carmen, who, -kind and amiable man that he was, seemed to take peculiar pleasure in -her companionship. But the arrival of Doña Isabel in an apparently dying -condition turned all thoughts into a new channel. - -From the first, Chata had entreated to be allowed to take her part in -nursing the stricken lady, but had been gently refused. Thereafter, the -husband of Doña Carmen used often to see their young guest gliding -restlessly about the house vainly seeking some distraction for her -anxious thoughts. He did not know the secret pain that tormented her. He -would gladly have facilitated her return if he could to that Don Rafael -from whom in a mad freak the mountain chieftain had stolen her; yet -there were circumstances,—there were reasons for not offending one so -powerful. Who knew? Guanapila was of course under Liberal rule to-day, -but what would it be to-morrow? The cautious man shrugged his shoulders -and said something of this to Chata, who smiled and thought him good to -care, yet wondered with all his goodness and his years,—the years that -had not brought in their train any additional attractiveness to his -person,—that Doña Carmen loved him. Was it as she had heard, that his -riches had beguiled one already passing rich? - -Since she had left El Toro, Chata had become a woman. Change of scene -had given impetus to the somewhat retarded development of her physique, -and mental anxiety had stimulated her mind and given to it an intuitive -appreciation of causes and events that is generally gained by innocent -and unsuspicious natures, such as hers, only after long experience. - -Thus she comprehended fully, as she would not have done a few months -before, the gravity of the step Chinita had taken in separating herself -from Doña Isabel. Ruiz had not spared the woman he loved in the few -brief sentences he had passionately uttered: love was with him but a -devouring flame, ready to destroy its object either in the struggle of -attainment or in the fury of baffled desire. Chata blushed even in -secret when she remembered the aspersions he had cast upon the friend of -her childhood. She knew the innate purity of the girl’s mind, though it -had been developed amid surroundings which might well have tainted it. -She knew her pride: even when she was but the barefoot foster-child of -Pedro the gatekeeper, Chinita had held Pepé and his mates as far apart -from her as the dogs that followed them or the mules they tended. Dogs -and mules she liked well and made serve her needs, as also she did the -lads. Chata did not doubt that Pepé now as ever had proved himself the -slave of Chinita’s will. Perhaps it was to Tres Hermanos she had gone. -Although knowing as she did the fascination that Ramirez had always -exerted over the girl’s mind, she could not but fear that led not by -reckless passion but by a spirit of devotion at which Ruiz had sneered, -yet in which Chata herself recognized the peculiar strength and -determination of Chinita’s character, the impulsive creature might -actually have sought an entrance to the camp to urge the plan that she -conceived was to further the glory of the Church and the interest of him -whom she had made the hero of her imagination. That Ashley Ward was in -any way concerned in the disappearance of Chinita, either as a principal -or an accessory, Chata indignantly refused to believe. Her heart beat -suffocatingly as she thought of him. No, no! he was not a man to entice -a girl to her ruin. - -And as days went by news reached Chata that strengthened this -conviction. The American was engaged in deeds of a far different -character. In his way he was beginning to fill the minds and occupy the -conversation of people as much as Ramirez had ever done. They gave him a -new name, as those at the hacienda had done; but Conservatives and -Liberals alike wondered at and exaggerated his exploits, until Ashley -had won a reputation for reckless bravado quite foreign to his true -character,—which was exhibiting itself in the most careful and nice -calculations of chances, the whole tending toward the fulfilment of the -task to which he had dedicated himself; namely, the downfall of the -unpunished and unrepentant murderer of John Ashley. - -Chata recognized this, and was filled with emotions perhaps more -conflicting, more strange, than had ever before met in the breast of so -young a girl. They held her thoughts by day and night. Oh that she had -never left Ramirez! Oh that she could speak but for a few moments with -Ashley! But she was powerless; and meanwhile what was the fate of -Chinita? What that impending over the man she was in duty bound to -warn,—to love if it were possible? - -But before these reflections had reached this point, an employment that -prevented them from becoming utterly overwhelming was afforded her. -Chata no longer wandered aimlessly about the house, but kept the strict -seclusion of Doña Isabel’s apartment, to which she had been hastily -summoned one night by Doña Carmen herself. - -“My mother talks so strangely,” she had said in a low voice, pressing -her hands to her white and frightened face. “No, I cannot comprehend -what she says; but I cannot have the servants about her. They might -imagine unspeakable things. Oh, what tales and rumors they might set -afloat! No, no! I will not have them here, with their suspicions and -evil thoughts. But you,—you are innocent and frank; you will not torture -into strange meanings the mutterings of a diseased imagination.” - -“No, no!” answered Chata, reassuringly. “It was the same with Doña -Feliz. Sometimes she talked so strangely, so sadly, one was forced to -weep, and then again to laugh; yes, in all my trouble I laughed. But I -will not now, Doña Carmen; only let me be useful. Doña Isabel did not -seem to like me when she was at the hacienda, so I kept as much as -possible out of her sight. She said my face was not such as Don Rafael’s -daughter should have; and after all,” she added sadly, “she was right.” - -What passed in that sick chamber through those long days and nights Doña -Carmen and Chata never repeated, even to each other. Perhaps they could -not, all was so disconnected, so improbable, and through all her -delirium the patient held so great a restraint over her utterances. -Sometimes one escaped her that startled and commanded attention; but the -next invariably contradicted it, and it was impossible to form a -connected theory even had Chata tried. But that great sorrows, events to -cause constant and secret care and remorse, had taken place in the life -of Doña Isabel, and that they concerned Chinita closely, was abundantly -clear. What pathetic appeals, what wild ravings, in which the names of -those who had lived in the past,—of her husband, her mother, her -brother, and of Herlinda,—were constantly mingled with those of the -American and Chinita. And friends or servants followed each other in -endless yet confusing succession; yet of them all the name of Chinita -was the most frequent. The present grief combined all others; in Chinita -seemed centred the agonies and loves of her lifetime. - -Chata listened with a sort of envy. Ah, if it had been given to her to -raise such a passion of feeling! She found herself from day to day -leaning with infinite tenderness over this woman, who had seemed so -cold, but whose heart was now revealed as a very volcano of repressed -and seething emotions. She was grateful and deeply touched that Doña -Isabel in her delirium clung to her fondly, calling her “Mother,” or -“Quina,” which Doña Carmen told her was the name of a cousin she had -dearly loved. Even after she had recognized her when the delirium was -past as the daughter of Don Rafael, she seemed pleased to have her -there; though she said querulously, “It is strange you are only a little -country girl. But Feliz has good blood in her; it has been transmitted -to you,—there is nothing of Rita, nothing of Rafael himself.” - -After that she made no further comment; but her eyes often followed the -movements of Chata with a puzzled expression painful to see. One day -after she had become convalescent, Doña Carmen spoke of this. “Whom does -she remind you of?” she asked lightly. - -“I cannot tell; I do not know,” Doña Isabel answered wearily. “Perhaps -it is of Chinita. Oh! I can think of nothing but Chinita. Are they still -looking for her, as I have prayed,—as I have commanded?” - -“Mother,” said Doña Carmen, solemnly, “who is Chinita? Why should you -care so much?” - -The face of Doña Isabel grew rigid. “Shall I tell you what you have -uttered in your delirium?” continued Doña Carmen, looking fixedly into -her mother’s eyes. “Shall I ask you if you spoke the truth, or if what I -have gathered—here a word, there a word—is but a dreadful fancy? Mother, -Mother! if it is the truth, no wonder that the fate of this girl is on -your soul! No wonder Herlinda—” - -She paused affrighted. In her excitement she had said far more than she -had intended. What if her mother in her delicate condition should sink -beneath this cruel attack,—should faint, should die? Carmen threw -herself down beside the couch with a prayer for forgiveness. - -Doña Isabel in the first surprise had clasped her hands over her heart. -Slowly the pale hue of life returned to her face. “Carmen,” she -whispered faintly, “speak! speak! After all these years, accusation—even -from my own child—is more bearable than silence. O my God, I meant -well!—it was for Herlinda’s sake. Yet what remorse, what agony I have -suffered!” - -The two women sank into each other’s arms. There had ever been a barrier -of reserve between them,—in a moment it was swept away. Doña Isabel -poured out her heart. It was Carmen who withheld what might have been -revealed; a conviction seized her that there was much in this strange -family mystery yet undeclared, and of which Doña Isabel knew nothing; -and that her mother’s mind was in no condition to be perplexed by -further doubts and complications. She left the room and went to her -husband. - -“Chulita my beautiful one,” he said anxiously, as she was about to leave -him an hour later, “thou wilt do nothing rash? Yet I will not forbid -thee. In truth, but that robberies and abductions are so common upon the -roads, I would go with thee myself.” - -“Not for the world!” exclaimed Doña Carmen in genuine consternation. -“They would seize thee and carry thee into the mountains. But as for -me,—I promise thee no robber shall think me worth a second thought. But -hold thee ready,—the desire may come to her at a moment’s thought, and I -would not leave thee without warning; I would not have thee unprepared.” - - - - - XLIII. - - -With the same unreasoning fury with which he had denounced Ramirez at -the banquet, Ruiz had returned to the camp of Gonzales; and through a -cleverly managed correspondence with Ramirez—in which however he dared -not mention the name of Chinita, lest he should awaken in the astute -mind of the General a suspicion that his godson conjectured the -deception which was to be played upon him—Ruiz gradually drew from the -chief data through which to propose such movements to Gonzales as -procured for him as a strategist the respect and admiration of that -commander, which well might have satisfied a laudable ambition. - -Meanwhile Ramirez himself, though surrounded by no despicable force, -which was daily augmented by accessions from the mountains or from the -ranks of less popular leaders of either party, was for the first time in -his life oppressed by a vague melancholy,—which, with some impatience, -he ascribed to the forced separation from the child whose purity and -innocence had so irresistibly attracted him. There were times when he -thought with what horror such a record as his would be viewed by that -gentle and upright nature; and a positive dread came upon him of her -ever knowing the one incident that had been so vividly recalled to him -by the appearance of the avenger upon the grave of the man he had -murdered years before,—one crime among many he had almost forgotten. He -said to himself that an evil spell had been upon him ever since the day -when he had foolishly thrown away the charm the elf-like child had given -him. His emissaries had brought him word time and again of the -miscarriage of his best-laid plans. Who had betrayed them? - -Ramirez knew too well who had frustrated them. The American who had -escaped his knife at the cemetery seemed ubiquitous since obtaining the -commission which authorized him to wage war against his cousin’s -murderer. Not content with defending El Toro with unexampled bravery, he -appeared at every point where an advantage was to be gained. “_Carrhi!_” -Ramirez said to himself, “I shall be forced to give that fellow a thrust -of my dagger in secret, since he appears to be impervious to ball and -proof against the chances of open warfare. He or I must fall. There’s -not room in all Mexico for him and me.” - -Whether there was room or not, it seemed destined that they should -remain in it together, though not without constant collision. Gonzales -became to the mind of Ramirez far less formidable than this -yellow-haired foreigner, who with a mere handful of followers so -constantly harassed and baffled him. Like most men of his class, the -mountain chieftain was intensely superstitious, and one night in the -moonlight he saw, or fancied he saw, a female form glide before him into -the chaparral. He caught but a glimpse of the face, but it had reminded -him of Herlinda, for whom he had done the deed that, so late, seemed to -have brought upon him a threatened retribution. As he searched the -bushes for the woman, whom he could not discover, he shuddered as he -remembered the expression of her eyes,—as of a wronged creature who had -loved and now hated. He had seen such an expression in a woman’s eyes -before. More than ever after this strange occurrence the thought of -Ashley Ward tormented him; the young man’s face haunted him; and -curiously enough other faces also began to peer upon him,—faces of women -he had wronged, of men who with good cause bore him deadly hatred, or of -others whom, like the American, or the gatekeeper, he had murdered. - -Ramirez grew strangely taciturn and nervous. Not even the letters of -Ruiz aroused him. In his heart he distrusted his godson, as he did all -men but Reyes, all women but Chata. Had she been near, he thought, he -would have talked to her and cast off his fancies; but in her absence -they grew upon him. One day he could have sworn he saw clearly not only -the face but the figure of Pedro Gomez; and upon another, that of the -woman he had loved long years before. Bah! they were fantasies. He -wondered whether he too would be seized with the fever, which was still -raging at Tres Hermanos, and of which they said its lady was dying at -her daughter’s house in Guanapila. Was this weakness of nerve the -presage of what was to come? - -At last battle was joined with Gonzales as had been planned. The day -turned in favor of Ramirez; even the gallant assistance of Ward availed -little against the desperate courage of the mountain troops. The genius -and valor of their leader were manifested with a vigor that declared -they had been but shaken, not broken. Until the arrival of Ward it had -even appeared that the forces actually under the command of Ramirez -would have been sufficient to effect a victory; but Ward’s appearance -speedily turned the tide in favor of Gonzales, and with some impatience -Ramirez gave the signal that was to hasten the promised action of Ruiz. - -But at the critical moment the expected ally failed him. With a -vindictive fury which was demoniacal in its exhibition, Ruiz threw -himself against his old commander. The carnage was terrible in that part -of the field; and when the fray was ended, the demoralization of -Ramirez’s troops was complete,—yet he himself had escaped. - -That such should be the case seemed to Ashley Ward incredible, as later -he walked over the field seeking among the slain the man against whom he -had begun a private warfare, which to his own surprise had, with further -investigation of the principles involved, rapidly attained in his mind -the dignity of a struggle for liberty that even dwarfed the incentive of -personal revenge, although it was impossible that this should be wholly -forgotten or ignored. - -Gonzales marched into El Toro amid the clanging of bells and shouts of -rejoicing; for though that was a convent town, the people of the lower -class were mad _Juaristas_, who did good service under Ward when troops -were scarce. The triumph had however not been gained without much loss -upon the Liberal side; and among the missing was the young officer who -in the eyes of Gonzales—and to the astonishment of Ward—had so ably -vindicated his character as a stanch adherent in the day of battle. Pepé -too, the right-hand man of Ward, was gone. - -In very truth, at the last moment the most important and useful -calculation of Ruiz had failed. He saw Ramirez, by his orders, -surrounded by desperate men; it seemed inevitable that he must be -stricken down,—when a party led by Reyes broke through to his -assistance, and in the fury of the onslaught Ruiz himself was swept from -his horse and hurried away, and to his consternation found himself a -prisoner dragged onward in the irresistible impetus of flight. - -They were miles distant from the scene of battle when the fugitives at -last paused; and here for the first time Ramirez knew of the special -prisoner that had been made. When his eyes fell upon the youth, a frown -which darkened as with a palpable cloud his already rigid and pitiless -face, overspread the countenance of Ramirez and made it absolutely -terrible. Even to fallen angels the crime of ingratitude may seem the -one damnable offence. In Ruiz, remembering the love and favor he had -shown him, Ramirez held it so to be. This insignificant boy had -compassed his ruin; his life seemed too poor a forfeit to condone the -offence. The baffled, desperate, outraged chieftain cursed the fate -which had cast the treacherous favorite into his power. But the terrible -blackness of his face still deepened, as he gazed. - -A lasso had been drawn tightly around the waist of Ruiz. His face was -cut and bleeding; the gold lace and epaulettes had been torn from his -coat; his uncovered hair was filled with dust, and his face reeking with -sweat. He raised his bloodshot eyes appealingly. He knew the man before -him,—the man, worthless and unscrupulous though he was, who had been -kind to him, whom he had betrayed, and whose death he had attempted to -compass. Ruiz did not attempt to speak, but fell on his knees and raised -his bound hands. Ramirez gazed at him a moment in silence, then without -the quiver of a muscle in his impassive face uttered the sentence, “Let -him be shot at once!” - -Shot at _once_,—from that terrible mandate there was no appeal. There -was not one there to utter a word in the traitor’s behalf, but only a -moan from the dust to which he had sunk. Reyes was not there; probably -the result would have been the same had he been. The soldiers raised the -young officer and stood him against a tree. - -At the last moment that strange indifference to death, which among his -countrymen so often counterfeits courage, caused Ruiz to straighten his -figure and raise his head; and in the insolence of despair he said to -Ramirez, with a glance of malignant contempt, “Had you fallen into my -hands I would have shot you with my own pistol an hour ago.” - -Perhaps the still proud youth hoped by this speech to escape the -ignominy of execution by a file of common soldiers. If so he was -mistaken. Ramirez gave the signal; the balls whizzed through the air and -found their way to their destined aim. Ruiz fell without a groan. -Ramirez himself, though still with an impassive face, to the -astonishment of all stooped and stretched the limbs and crossed the -hands of the young man upon his breast. There was a spot of blood upon -the face, and the chief wiped it away as tenderly as a mother might lave -the face of her dead infant; and yet but a few moments before he had -commanded this youth to a violent death, and according to the creed he -held, his soul to purgatory without benefit of clergy. - -Forgetting to give the expected order for the execution of the other -prisoners, Ramirez turned away. In another moment he had placed himself -at the head of the party and continued the retreat. “At the next halt it -can be done as well,” remarked the lieutenant, philosophically. “There -are plenty of horses; bind the prisoners well and bring them along.” - -And thus for that day at least Pepé Ortiz among others knew he had -escaped a fate of which the very idea—with the remembrance of Ruiz to -intensify its horror—made his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth and -his knees quiver with terror. Yet the day came when he, like the traitor -whose end he had witnessed, straightened himself against a tree, and -with apparent coolness awaited the mandate of Ramirez that was to -consign him to eternity; naught but a miracle it seemed could save him. -He only begged a cigarette of a soldier, remarking that they might be -scarce where he was going,—secretly hoping thus to hide the quiver of -the lips which belied the bravado of his words. - -Shortly after this time, Chata to her surprise received by the hand of -an Indian fruitseller a brief note from Ramirez. At the first reading -its contents seemed hard and indifferent. He spoke with an almost savage -irony of those who were driving him back like a wolf to his mountain -lairs. “I know of fastnesses, if I care to seek them, where no foot but -mine has ever trod, and where this accursed American who is hunting me -down like fate could never hope to follow me,” he wrote. “But it shall -never be said that Ramirez fled from man or spirit, were it Satan -himself. After all, a man may not escape from him who is destined to -bring death to him. Ruiz was marked to die by me. I loved him, yet his -fate is accomplished.” - -Chata shuddered. It seemed incredible that save by accident such a thing -could happen, so sacred is esteemed by Mexicans the tie between sponsor -and godchild; and the tone of the letter impressed her as that of a -desperate man who was ready for unheard-of deeds. Had Ramirez in truth -deliberately destroyed the man whom for years he had associated in his -every hope and plan, to whom he had promised the hand of his child? Deep -indeed must have been the villany that had merited such an end. The sigh -of relief which Chata involuntarily breathed, that she was free from the -possible accomplishment of the destiny that had been marked out for her, -was perhaps as sympathetic as any caused by the death of Fernando Ruiz. - -A reperusal of the letter gave to Chata’s mind an impression of the -longing, the stinging regret, the remorse which the words had been -designed to conceal rather than display. The pride, the fierceness, the -unconquerable will of the writer pervaded them; yet the wail of a lost -spirit crying for the one good that it had known, and now believed -forfeited forever, seemed to echo through her soul. “He loves me,” she -thought remorsefully. “He believes himself doomed to die, and that he -will see me no more. Oh! if it were possible I would go to him. Oh, if I -dared tell Doña Isabel!—but no, she would keep me from him; she would -mock my pain with the cry that this was but the just recompense of the -evil he had brought upon her long ago. She believes her brother dead; -why torture her by telling her my miserable history?” - -Chata showed the letter to Doña Carmen, and she it was who called the -girl’s attention to some chance mention of the name of the place where -Ramirez said he might be able to remain some days, even if closely -pressed, for the people there were secretly sworn to his support. Day -after day wild rumors flew through the city of the pursuit of Ramirez, -his capture, his death, only to be contradicted upon the next. They did -not seriously agitate Chata, for not once was the name of the place he -called his stronghold mentioned. - -One night the anxious girl had a vivid dream. She dreamed she saw the -chieftain and Chinita lying dead,—the one on one side of a village -street, the other on the opposite. The people were rushing wildly about -screaming and gesticulating madly, while Doña Isabel, followed by women -clothed in black like herself, was in frenzy passing from one to the -other, uttering that low wail that seems the very key-note of woe. - -Chata woke with a stifled scream. The wind was blowing shrilly through -the trees and seemed to bring to her a voice, which said, “Wake! oh -wake, Chata! I have dreamed of her.” The voice sounded close to her ear. -It came from Doña Isabel, who leaning over the dreamer’s bed was -repeating again and again the words, “I shall find her. I have dreamed -of her.” - -Chata raised herself upon the pillows and caught the lady’s wasted hand. -“Yes, yes,” continued Doña Isabel, “I have dreamed of Chinita and of -another,—one I loved long years ago. I saw them together in Las Parras. -It is a revelation! Why have I not thought of it before? No other place -would be so fitting. I shall find her. I am going now, now! My carriage, -my horses, my men must be here; I will call them. Tell my daughter when -she wakes; she will understand.” - -Doña Isabel turned to leave the room, her excitement supplementing her -returning strength; but Chata detained her. “I too will go,” she cried. -“Nothing shall prevent me. Doña Carmen will not stop us,—she knows; she -dare not forbid me. I will tell her now. She will know what is best for -us. The carriage is still here, but—” - -Chata hastened from the room and wakened Doña Carmen. “Ah,” said the -daughter to herself, “the thought is come, and the hour.” She hastily -wrote a line to her husband, who was absent at a hacienda he owned near -the city; provided herself with some rolls of gold, and presently -entered her mother’s room dressed in a somewhat soiled cotton gown, and -with her reboso over her arm. Doña Isabel, who in the excitement of her -thoughts was walking hither and thither, taking up and putting down -articles of apparel, looked at her daughter blankly. Why, she thought, -had a servant come at that hour? - -“See, I am ready,” cried Carmen, cheerfully. “The diligence is to leave -the city for the first time to-day. We shall pass through the country -quite safely. Who would stop such poor creatures as we appear to be?” - -Doña Isabel looked at her daughter gratefully,—her mind had been running -helplessly upon carriages and mounted escorts and all the paraphernalia -of travel, which require so much time and thought to prepare. “True, -true!” she said, “that will be best, oh much the best!” In feverish -haste she prepared herself for the journey as Carmen had done, arraying -herself in a plain dark dress and reboso. But her daughter noticed that -she did not think of the expenses of the journey, and herself silently -assumed the direction of the little party. - -Doña Carmen led the way from her own house so quietly that only the -doorkeeper to whom she gave a few directions, which he doubtless in his -amazement straightway forgot, was awakened. The three ladies were so -humbly dressed that they attracted but little notice at the diligence -house, and being hastily motioned to the poorest seats in the coach were -soon on their way. Covering their faces with their rebosos, they did not -so much as speak to one another. - -Some ten leagues from the city the diligence was stopped by a half-dozen -armed men. The male passengers were ordered to lie down upon their -faces, and were despoiled of all their money and valuables. Chata to her -extreme disgust—which fortunately was disguised by her alarm—received an -amicable expression of approval from one of the bandits, which was -abruptly checked by the remark of the captain that this was no time for -fooling, as there was a rival band but a half-mile farther on. The elder -women escaped remark. Happily, the other band did not present itself, -and the three ladies told their beads in devout thankfulness. - -That night the travellers remained at a miserable hut, which served as -an inn, feeling a certain protection in the presence of an aged priest, -who chanced to be awaiting there an opportunity to proceed upon a -long-interrupted journey; and upon the following morning he formed one -of the travelling party. Beyond bestowing upon them his blessing, he -said nothing to them,—although somewhat to her discomfort Doña Carmen -noticed that he often turned an inquiring gaze upon them. Early in the -afternoon the diligence stopped at a miserable village, the nearest -point at which, in the interrupted arrangements of travel, it approached -Las Parras; and having deposited Doña Isabel’s party and the priest, -diverged toward the north. - -Doña Isabel looked around her helplessly, saying, “It is nearly eight -leagues to Las Parras. I have often been here,—I know the road well. We -shall never reach there!” - -“You will see, Mother, you will see,” answered Doña Carmen, cheerfully; -and greatly to the astonishment of the priest and the women who stood -near, she drew forth a half-dozen ounces of gold, and held them up. -“See,” she said in her clear patrician voice, “you are good people here; -we are not afraid to trust you,”—her quick eye had shown her there was -not an able-bodied man in the almost ruinous place. “We are not so poor -as we look, and I will give you all this for three, four—” she glanced -at the priest—“horses, donkeys, or mules, be they ever so poor, upon -which we can go our way.” - -The women laughed stupidly, and looked at one another and then at the -gold. Evidently if there was a beast of burden in the village it was -securely hidden, and though the money tempted them they were afraid. - -“No, no,” said one at length. “Three weeks ago the Señores Liberales -drove off our last cow, and the week after the Señores Conservadores -slaughtered the turkeys, and—” - -“But we want neither cows nor turkeys,” interrupted Carmen, impatiently. - -“Quite true; but the Señorita would have horses,” answered the matron -imperturbably; “and yesterday the General Ramirez was here—” - -She paused as though it were unnecessary to say more of the fate of -their horses; and Doña Isabel, starting up impetuously, hurriedly -questioned the assembled gossips. Upon the subject of the visit of -Ramirez the villagers were eloquent. He and his followers had reached -there spent with fatigue and long fasting. In a few moments the place -had been sacked of all its poor provision; there had not been enough to -give one poor ration to the half-dozen prisoners who were with them. -They would have been shot—yes, upon the very spot upon which their -graces were standing—but for the prayers of a young girl, who seemed to -be the lieutenant’s wife; at least she was in his care,—and Ramirez had -admitted it could be done as well at the next halt. She herself gave a -drink of water to the poor lads for the love of God, and also a tortilla -to one among them that she knew,—poor Pepé Ortiz; but he was too weak to -swallow it, and had given it to another less wretched than he. - -Chata began to cry softly, while Doña Isabel demanded a description of -the young girl who had been of the party. This was vague enough; but -insufficient as it was it made the thought of further delay -impossible,—and the eloquence and gold of Doña Carmen, to which was -added the authority of the priest, presently induced the villagers to -produce four sorry beasts, upon which with some difficulty the party -were secured, for no saddles or panniers were to be had. It was almost -sunset when, following the old stage-road, the already wearied -travellers set out upon their long and possibly perilous ride. - -The women of the village stood for a long time with arms akimbo, looking -after the departing travellers. They had divided the money among -themselves,—they felt rich and could afford to be pitiful. “The poor -Señora has perhaps lost a daughter,” said one—“doubtless the fair girl -who rode with the lieutenant. The Holy Mother protect her, for the man -was in two minds about taking her farther; but the Señor General swore -he would run his sabre through him if he cast her off to starve in such -a hole. To starve, eh! One who has never lived in my birthplace cannot -know how well the pigs fatten here when the tunas are ripe.” - -“Pshaw! girls are fools, and not worth breaking one’s head for,” said a -second, whose only son kept her rich, when well-laden travellers were -plenty. “Where go they now? They are turning toward Las Parras. They -will miss the soldiers, or I am no prophet.” - -“As a prophet one may give thee a thousand lashes, for thou art ever at -fault,” laughed a third. “But what matters it to us where they go? The -road is open to them as to another. They should not go far wrong with a -holy little priest to guide them.” - - - - - XLIV. - - -Upon the very morning that Doña Isabel and her companion left Guanapila, -news which might perhaps have changed their movements had they heard of -it flew like wildfire over the city. The convents throughout Mexico had -been simultaneously opened under a decree of the Liberal government, and -thousands of women dedicated to a cloistered life were thus set free to -choose anew their destiny. - -Women who for half a century, perhaps, had lived apart from life and -love were returned to die amid the turmoils of a home where love for -them had ceased, or to pass over seas to seclusion in strange lands. -Others, in whom voices as of demons were but just then ceasing to tempt -the memory with whispers of the world and its alluring joys, saw those -joys actually within their reach, and with dismay sought to turn their -eyes away, and prayed for strength to brave the perils of the deep, and -bear the homesickness that in a strange country would torment the soul -of the cloistered nun as surely as if she had been free to gaze upon the -valleys and mountains of the native land she was about to leave forever. -Younger women, those to whom the early years of seclusion had brought -but disenchantment, were cruelly roused from the stupor of habit which -was succeeding pain and presaging content, and with secret regret now -clung to the vows they fain would have cast aside forever, or in a few—a -very few—cases became that shunned and despised creature, a recreant -nun. That night was the signal for horror and tears throughout the land. -A wail arose from thousands of families, about to catch a glimpse of -their consecrated dear ones, and then to know them banished forever. -Such uprooting of ties, such griefs, such domestic woes, are inevitable -in all great national or social revolutions. - -A certain secrecy had been observed in the preparations for and -execution of this stroke of policy, which had indeed been threatened and -openly urged as a political necessity, but which in spite of the exile -of the archbishops and the suppression of monasteries had been -thought—even by those who acknowledged its probable benefits to the -nation—too daring a measure ever to be carried into effect. It had been -thought a dream of the arch-iconoclast Juarez. But he was a man whose -dreams were apt to come true; and so it happened upon this summer night, -striking admiration and consternation to the hearts of Liberals and -Conservatives alike, for there was scarce a family of either party -throughout Mexico that was not represented in the vast religious houses -which abounded in every town. Into these, overcoming their superstitious -scruples, the populace for the first time now penetrated, and learned -something of the surroundings and consequent life of those whom for -centuries they had supported as saints, dedicated to prayer and fasting -for the sins of the people. To their disenchantment and surprise, the -people found many of these gloomy piles filled with wide and beautiful -chambers, where flowers and musical instruments stood side by side with -the altar and _prie Dieu_, and parlors and refectories which opened upon -gardens planted with the choicest and most luxuriant shrubs and flowers. -There were kitchens too where the choice conserves were made which -sometimes found a way to the outer world, and where doubtless other -savory dishes were prepared for the saintly sisterhoods. In many of -these retreats each nun had her servant, who came and went at her -command, and life—if one may judge from the inanimate things and the low -whispers that sometimes reached the outer air—was made a soft and -sensuous prelude to the celestial harmony of eternity. - -But there were others—and they were many—where the utmost austerity -pictured by the devout secular mind was practised; where entered the -poor daughter, or she whom the priests perceived had a true vocation, or -a deep and agonizing grief, which would keep her faithful to the vows of -poverty, of devotion, and obedience. There were none of those amiable -daughters of rich families too bountifully supplied with girls, and for -whom a dowry to the Church provided a safe and pleasant home, whence -they might easily glide through this life into another,—where female -angels would never be esteemed too plentiful,—but where were only the -poor, the sorrowful, the despairing; and the well-filled vaults beneath -the gloomy chapels attested how rich a harvest death had gleaned in -those dreary abodes of penance. - -For many days the officers in command at various points had been in -possession of orders,—which it is to be conjectured were in many cases -transmitted to the abbesses of the principal nunneries, that they might -take advantage of this notice by quietly disbanding their sisterhoods -and sending each member to her own family, or in communities to the -United States or some transatlantic land. But the opportunity for moral -martyrdom was not to be destroyed by a mere concession to convenience, -and not in a single case was the knowledge acted upon,—except perhaps -that in a few convents upon the designated night the nuns refrained from -repairing to their dormitories, but prepared for exit, awaited the -mandate praying in the lighted chapels; and where this occurred, the -mothers superior afterward acquired reputations of special sanctity for -the supposed spirit of prophecy which had moved them. But in the -majority of these establishments, so absolute was the belief that the -threatened invasion would never be attempted, or if attempted would -bring upon the intruders the instant vengeance of the Almighty, that no -change was made in usual habits, and an outward composure was -maintained, which we may believe among the initiated at least disguised -many a beating heart filled with genuine horror, or with a wild guilty -anticipation from which it shrank in remorse. The world! the world! With -a turn of the lock, with scarce more than a step, they would be in it; -and then—then! - -Guanapila was not, strictly speaking, a convent city. The few small -retreats within it were vacated with so little commotion that, except in -the houses to which the sisters were removed, nothing was known of the -measure until the following morning. But in the much smaller town of El -Toro there were whole streets lined on either side with high, massive, -and windowless walls which were the façades of vast cloisters. It was -with feelings of intense though repressed excitement that Vicente -Gonzales placed himself at the head of a small force which was to demand -entrance to those formidable but peaceful structures, while the mass of -the troops remained at the citadel, ready upon a signal to enforce his -authority, whether questioned by Church or people. It was true the -populace had declared itself Liberal in sentiment ever since the defeat -of Ramirez had left them under the guns of the _Juaristas_; but bred as -they had been under the very shadow of these colossal monuments of the -Church it was not unlikely that when their sanctity was threatened, the -momentary conversion of the citizens to patriotism might yield to zeal -in the defence of institutions that had appeared to them as unassailable -as the very heavens. - -Vicente Gonzales might readily have sent another to fulfil the dubious -task before him,—in fact in most cases men of dignity unconnected with -the army were chosen as peaceful ambassadors of the power that held the -sword; but the hour had arrived for which this man had prayed and -fought,—for which he would have prayed and fought had no individual -suffering added sharpness to the sting of the thorn that for so long had -tormented his nation. He himself, he resolved, would execute the decree -that should sweep this great incubus from the land. Perchance among the -released he might find one whom he had never consciously for one moment -forgotten; he might see her, if but for a moment, as she passed in the -throng. He had never ceased to see the yearning, despairing, yet -resolute expression upon the young face of Herlinda Garcia, as amid -clouds of incense it faded from his sight behind the iron bars that -separated her and her sister nuns from the body of the church whence he -had witnessed her living entombment. That was in a city far away; most -likely she was there now. Yet there was a chance,—a mere chance! - -Strangely enough, Ashley Ward had never spoken the name of Herlinda to -Gonzales; nor had either mentioned that of Chinita—an inexplicable yet -differing motive holding both silent. The rapid events of the war, which -had given full occupation to body and mind, had prevented discussion of -domestic matters, and there was something in the reticence of Gonzales -that forbade aught but deeply serious investigation; and for the present -Ward was unprepared to attempt this. They were friends; but there were -deeps in the nature of each that the other made no attempt to fathom. -Upon this night Ward knew the mind of Gonzales perhaps better than did -the man himself; and throughout the unwonted scenes of which he was a -mere passive spectator, to him the most engrossing were the emotions -that betrayed themselves upon the countenance of the commanding officer. - -As Ashley and Gonzales left their quarters together, behind them -followed closely a man in a sergeant’s uniform, who halted painfully, -and across whose face was a livid scar. To those who had heard nothing -of the torture he had undergone, Pedro Gomez would have been scarcely -recognizable,—for besides the disfiguring scar, there was an expression -of vengeful and ferocious daring where before had been but dogged -obstinacy and a certain rough kindliness; and to those who had believed -him dead, his appearance would have brought a superstitious horror as -that of one escaped from the torments of the damned. - -Besides these three, several officers and other gentlemen, with a small -guard of soldiers, passed out of the citadel afoot, and at a short -interval were followed by all the available carriages of the town. What -occurred thereafter may perhaps be best described by a translation of -the chronicles of the time:— - - “One night—one terrible night—a long and unusual sound, a prolonged - rumble, was heard in the streets. It seemed shortly as if all the - carriages in the city had become mad, now rushing hither, now thither, - waking from sleep the peaceful neighborhood; so that each person - demanded of the other, ‘What is this?’ ‘What has happened?’ and no one - could answer with certainty the other. - - “While the people wondered, the carriages stopped at the doors of the - nunneries, and the gentlemen charged with the commission demanded - entrance, and intimated to the nuns the order to leave their cells and - refrain from reuniting in cloister. - - “‘But, gentlemen, for God’s love!’ - - “‘How can this be?’ - - “‘His will be done!’ - - “‘But where can we go? Oh, what iniquity!’ - - “Such were the phrases that broke the startled stillness of the - cloisters. But the commissioners were deaf to all appeals, merely - rubbing their hands and saying,— - - “‘Let us go. Let us go on, Señoritas! We have no time to lose!’ - - “Truly the time was limited,—that night only, for perchance by day the - gentlemen commissioners would have had a distaste to penetrate the - convents; or perhaps only by night can certain mischievous deeds be - carried to the desired exit. - - “It is said that some naughty novices upon hearing themselves called - señoritas forgot for an instant their grief, and smiled. There did not - lack also of those who had entered the category of grave mothers who - did the same! And after all, was not this a venial and excusable - fault? Should not a girl, beautiful and fragrant as a jasmine, become - tired of hearing herself addressed every hour and every day in the - year as ‘Little Mother,’ ‘My Reverend Mother,’ ‘How is your - Reverence?’... - - “This was an event which each one was obliged to accept as she would, - but none the less surely. ‘Came it from God? Came it from Satan?’ By - either it may have come; but is it not true that Satan is—ourselves?” - -The party headed by Gonzales asked themselves no such questions as -these, but cautiously, swiftly, and effectively did the work, which -history might criticise. No time was allowed the nuns for preparation. -Even from the richest convents few articles were carried away as the -nuns dispersed. Perhaps more previous preparation than was suspected or -afterward acknowledged had been made; certain it is that the most -magnificent and valuable jewels had disappeared from the vestments of -the virgins and saints upon the altars. But as quickly as might be the -weeping and lamenting sisters were placed in carriages and conveyed to -houses ready to receive them; though many in the confusion wandered out -into the darkness and rain afoot, and gave a pathetic chapter to the -tale of bloodless martyrdom. As one by one the convents were vacated, -the party passed on; until the smallest and dreariest of those retreats, -that which nestled beneath the shadow of the parish church, was reached. - -Throughout the work Gonzales had spoken only to give the necessary -orders. The measure that in itself had been so dear to his soul was now -in its actual execution repugnant to him,—the tears, the sighs, the long -processions of black-robed and wailing women distressed his heart, and -filled him with shame and anger. As all this continued, his face -darkened and a profound melancholy oppressed him. It was raining -dismally. In other towns doubtless the same scenes were being enacted. -He turned faint, his eyes filled as with blood. Even Ashley Ward, amid -the intense interests of the scenes around him,—the views of those grand -interiors lighted by the candles borne by the retiring nuns, and the red -glare of the soldier’s torches,—felt the influence of the deep sadness -of this solemn exodus. The clouds of incense sickened him, and through -them the glorified Madonnas, the bleeding Christs upon the altars, the -troops of black-robed nuns themselves, seemed alike beings of another -world, into which he had stepped unbidden. The light shone upon rows and -rows of white faces, which looked forth from their wrappings like faces -of dead saints. He seemed to see each individual one. He was excited to -the utmost; the blood pulsed hotly through every vein, yet a sense of -keen disappointment chilled his heart, and unconsciously to himself -something of what he read upon the faces of Gonzales and Pedro was -reflected upon his own. A profound quiet and solemnity fell upon the -party, as they passed the vestibule and penetrated the dim recesses of -the Convent of the Martyrs. - -There the nuns were all gathered in the chapel, praying and waiting, and -the wail of the Miserere stole from the great organ through the dim -arches and bare cells. In that place there was nothing of beauty, of -grace, of sensuous luxury. The stern austerities of an asceticism scarce -surpassed in mediæval days was found behind those massive and windowless -walls, which shut out the light, material and moral, of the nineteenth -century. - -As the men entered the chapel, the nuns fell upon their knees and -covered their faces,—all except the abbess, who remained standing to -hear the mandate of expulsion. - -“Blessed be God!” responded her deep, pathetic voice, “Blessed be God in -all his works! Sisters, let us go hence;” and taking up the woful -strains when the organ ceased, with each nun adding to them the weird -beauty of her voice, the abbess led the way to the portal, and the -sisterhood passed into the bleak darkness of the unfamiliar street. - -By this time the wind was blowing,—a summer’s wind, yet it pierced the -bodies upon which for years no air of heaven had blown,—and it was -raining heavily. Fortunately many vehicles had gathered at the curb, and -ere long the banished nuns were under shelter; and the work of the night -was accomplished. - -Ashley Ward, with other officers and gentlemen, had busied himself in -bestowing the poor ladies as rapidly and commodiously as possible in the -carriages, and as the last one turned the corner of the great building, -the soldiers fell into line at the word of command; and in a few moments -he found himself alone. He discovered this when he turned to speak to -Gonzales. He was nowhere to be seen, and Ashley remembered that when he -had last seen him it was at the chapel door, watching with pale and -anxious countenance the exit of the nuns. - -Gonzales had been suffering from a recent wound. Had the fatigue and -exposure, and that deadly sickness of crushed and dying hope overcome -him? Ashley caught up a torch, which was sputtering and about to expire -on the dripping pave, fanned for a moment its flame, and then made his -way back into the forsaken building. - -He found Gonzales standing on the spot where he had parted from him, and -before him stood a man with a flickering torch. Both were in an attitude -of extreme dejection; both started as Ashley’s footsteps broke the -stillness. Pedro—for the second man was he—led the way into the outer -darkness, and Gonzales, having in his hand the heavy key which had been -delivered by the abbess, turned to lock the abandoned house. He paused -and looked to the right and left. The street was utterly forsaken; the -rain came in gusts, and it was with much ado that Pedro, turning hither -and thither, kept alive the flame of the torch. - -Once as he turned, the light fell full upon the face and figure of Ward; -and at the instant an exclamation of incredulous joy, followed by a -groan, fell upon their ears. Gonzales dropped the key, and it rang -sharply upon the stones at his feet. - -“There is a woman here!” he ejaculated breathlessly. Something in the -tones had drawn the blood from his heart. “Here! here! a light, Pedro, -in God’s name!” - -The senses of Pedro were even more acute than those of Gonzales and -Ward. Not only had he heard the voice, but he knew whose it was, and -whence it had come. His torch flashed upon an alcove of the deep wall; -and there ensconced they saw the sombre and meanly clad figure of a nun. -She had covered her face; her form shook violently. - -“Señorita,” said Gonzales, recovering himself and respectfully -approaching the woman, “forgive us that you are left behind. We thought -all had been provided for—all.” - -“It is I who would have it so,—I who promised myself I would escape,” -answered the nun, brokenly, yet with an almost fierce intensity. “Have I -not prayed and wept for this hour? Could I let it pass? No, no! I -lingered—I fled—I could not, would not, go with them. They would have -dragged me with them across the seas—away—away from her,—my child! my -child!” - -She uttered the last words almost in a scream, yet her gaze followed -Ward. “Who is he? who is he?” she asked in a feverish whisper. “It is -not my murdered angel,—my love, my husband,—it is not he; and yet so -like! Oh my God, is it because thou hast forgiven me that thou bringest -this vision before me?” - -Gonzales started back; gazed eagerly, rapturously at the nun; then -rushed to clasp the coarse folds of her drapery. Pedro dropped at her -feet. Ward alone uttered her name,—“Herlinda!” - -Gonzales bent over her hand, uttering inarticulate words of greeting. -She scarcely seemed to hear them. “Vicente, is it thou?” she said -faintly. “But he, who is he?—the man of the yellow hair, with the face -that at prayer and at penance, asleep and awake, has ever haunted me?” - -Herlinda stepped nearer to Ward. Her lips were parted, her eyes aflame; -never in all his life before and never again saw he a woman so beautiful -as this one in the unsightly garb, so coarse it grazed the skin where it -touched it. “No wonder,” he thought, “my cousin loved her; he could have -done no other, even had he known he was doomed to die for her!” - -Ah! the unhappy daughter of the haughty Garcias was far more beautiful -that night than ever John Ashley had beheld her. Suffering first had -refined, and now the divine inspiration of hope illumined those perfect -features. Ashley Ward comprehended this; but Gonzales with horror -recalled her words, and thought her mad. “_Maria Sanctissima!_” she -cried as the light flashed full on the American, “I am forgiven, that I -behold the living likeness of his face.” - -Ward bent before her, inexpressibly touched. He would have spoken, but -at this instant her eyes fell upon the kneeling man at her feet. “It is -Pedro,—yes, it is Pedro,” Herlinda said in a low voice. “Perhaps he -knows of her,—yet, my God, he dares not look at me!” - -“Niña, Niña!” - -“Speak, Pedro, speak! thou must know of her. Tell me, was Feliz -faithful? Is my child well, happy?” - -“Merciful God, she is indeed mad!” interjected Gonzales. “O Herlinda, -know you not you never were married, never had a child?” - -Herlinda turned on him a glance of mingled entreaty and impatience, then -raised her eyes piteously toward heaven. “They said I was not married,” -she moaned brokenly; “but oh, I had a child,—and they took her from me. -Oh, if I could have died!” - -Gonzales turned from her with a groan. How bitter was the revelation! -Married! It could not have been! And a child? Ah! he knew then why a -convent had been her doom. - -In a broken voice Pedro began to speak. Ashley, with the red glare of -the torch he held falling full upon him, seemed to Gonzales a mocking -witness of the shame and woe which from Herlinda were reflected upon -him, the man who loved her, had ever loved her; yet he felt -instinctively that the American had a right to hear, to judge, as well -as he. Ah, it was an American who—“An American!” he gasped, and his hand -touched the hilt of his sword. - -“Niña, Niña!” Pedro was saying. “They brought the child to me. Oh, the -sweet child, with its soft, dark eyes,—oh, the child with its ruddy -curls! and I remembered all that you had said, my Señorita. I watched -over it, I cherished it, it was my own!” - -“Thine! thine!” cried the nun clasping her hands, and in her excitement -even thrusting him from her. “It could not be! Oh Feliz, Feliz! thou -couldst not be so false!” - -The tone of incredulity, of horror, in which she spoke pierced Pedro to -the quick; yet he answered humbly, “I thought to please you, Niña, to -keep her from those you distrusted; and she was happy, oh quite happy, -all through her little childhood. You know one can be quite happy -playing in the free air.” - -The released nun burst into sudden tears. “Happy in the free air! Oh -yes, yes!” she cried. “Oh, if all these years I could have begged even -from door to door with my child, even with the brand of shame upon me! -Oh the suffering, the suffering of these long, long desolate years!” - -Gonzales stepped to her side, and placed her arm within his own. “Thou -shalt be desolate no more, Herlinda,” he said, “thou betrayed angel of -purity!” - -“Betrayed, no!” cried Ashley Ward, looking up. “Deceived perhaps they -both were, but the man who was slain as her betrayer believed himself -her husband, as she believed herself his wife,—as I believe now she most -truly was. Thank God I am here to champion their cause and that of their -child!” - -Gonzales left Herlinda a moment to embrace Ward in his southern fashion; -then supporting her again listened to what Pedro had to say. - -The mother’s face grew whiter and whiter as the tale proceeded. “That, -_that_ my child!” she murmured at intervals, and her head sank lower and -lower upon her breast. Even Gonzales and Ward heard with amazement the -story of Chinita’s appearance at the cave where Pedro had lain wounded. -“What!” one cried, “has she not been all this time in the house of Doña -Carmen? Did you not tell us that in a strange freak of impatience she -had hastened there?” - -“It was you, Señores, who affirmed it must be she, when you heard of the -young girl who had been taken there, from the Indian whom you captured -as a spy of Ramirez,” answered Pedro, with the humble cunning of the -true ranchero; “and why should your servant contradict you, when Chinita -herself had commanded otherwise—” - -“And where in God’s name is she now?” demanded Ward. “You know who I am. -You know all this time I could not have rested tranquil had I thought—” - -“Have no anxiety, Señor,” answered the man with his old sullenness. “And -I swear to you, Niña, she is safe, quite safe. She is with a woman who -can guard her well. She is gone to seek the man who murdered her father. -Ah, Niña, your daughter has the blood of the Garcia; she will avenge -you!” - -Herlinda sank with a moan. Ashley would have raised her, but Gonzales -motioned him back. There was a house at a little distance where a widow -and her daughters dwelt, and thither he bore her. - -It was then at the middle hour between midnight and dawn; and long -before light, after a hurried consultation, the three men met again -before the widow’s door. All arrangements had been made for the brief -transfer of the command of the troops. Gonzales, Ashley, and Pedro acted -as outriders for a strong military coach drawn by four fleet mules. Into -this stepped Herlinda and the widow, both dressed as respectable -gentlewomen; and before the people of El Toro wakened from their deep -sleep that followed the excitement of the early night, the travellers -were far upon the road, and though the way was long and rough were -gaining fast upon the diligence which bore Doña Isabel, her daughter, -and Chata. - - - - - XLV. - - -On the evening when Doña Isabel and her companions set forth from the -village upon their toilsome pilgrimage to Las Parras, two women leaned -against the gate-posts at the entrance to the garden where the mistress -of Tres Hermanos and the mother of the administrador had parted so many -years before, and looked wearily along the silent road. One would not -have been surprised to hear that during all these years no other mortal -had approached the place, for the air of neglect it had worn then had -deepened into that of utter abandonment. It looked not merely disused, -but actually shunned. The gate had fallen from its hinges and lay broken -upon the rank coarse grass and weeds, which thrusting themselves between -the bars filled the paths. Thick clumps of cacti and stunted -uncultivated fruit and flowers, with manzanita and other common shrubs -of the country, had outgrown and outrooted the feebler growths, and -almost hid the low front of the solid but dismantled building, upon -which the iron-ribbed shutters hung forlornly like broken armor on a -battered image. - -The sun and wind and rains had done their work unchecked in all these -years, aided by the revolution, which had torn and scathed whatever had -attracted its greedy hand and then passed on, leaving desolation to -continue or repair the work of destruction. The vines, which had at -first served as a graceful drapery, hung so heavily on every porch and -wooden projection of the house that they had broken down the frail -supports, and added to the general appearance of riot and disorder; -while their matted masses offered a defiant obstruction to any -adventurous comer. Yet these women had forced a way into the dark and -mouldy rooms, and found a certain pleasure and security in their -seemingly impenetrable and forbidding aspect. - -“We have been here three days,” said the younger, who even in the -declining light one might see was a mere girl, while her companion, -though small, was old in face and figure,—not with the dignity of actual -age, but with a sort of lithe grace and abandon, which comes from years -of free and careless action. “We have been three days waiting, yet he -has not come! You may be mistaken. How can you reckon upon what a man -like Ramirez will do? He is not like a blind man, always led by his dog -upon the same round.” - -“Necessity and habit are the dogs that lead him,” said the woman with a -slight laugh. “Fortune is against him; he has been beaten from every -stronghold. I know this is the hole he will creep into at last.” - -“And the people here, they would save him?” said Chinita, musingly. “He -has ever spared them, ever protected them, that he might have a safe -refuge in time of need. Here, here, but for us he would be safe?—but for -us, Dolores?” - -“Ah, he is not the first who does not find even nests where he hoped to -find birds,” answered the woman called Dolores. “To-day he is laughing -at the little troop of Liberals patrolling these hills; he will make a -way between them. Yes, you will see; here, here, upon this very road, we -shall see him flash by like a meteor, and then be lost. But my eyes can -trace him; my hand will be able to point the way he has gone.” - -The woman had unwittingly conjured up a vision that thrilled the -imagination of the listener. “Oh!” she cried with a sudden gesture of -repulsion and weariness, “I am sick of this mean and miserable life. -Would to God I had gone to him as I vowed to do. Do not tell me he would -have laughed at my rage! No, no! a man could not laugh at the girl who -accused him of the murder of her father; who stood before him to remind -him of all his secret and unnatural crimes! Ah, I cannot endure this -silent, creeping enmity. Three times already by our means he has been -tracked and driven from his stronghold; once but for Pepé he would have -been killed,—Ruiz himself would have killed him!” - -“Fox against tiger!” cried Dolores, contemptuously. “Bah! the idiot -might have known that with the smell of blood in the air, not even the -shadow of the cross would save him if he fell into the hands of Ramirez; -yet he rushed on his fate. And for Ramirez there waits for him a doom -more just than death on the battlefield,—though you, who warned Pepé to -save him, are but a faint-hearted weakling.” - -“Would you have him die without knowing the revenge that followed him?” -cried Chinita. “What would death alone be to such a man as he? It was -you, yourself, who first urged Pepé to leave us,—not that he might kill, -but if need were save, Ramirez.” - -“It is true,” answered Dolores, mollified; yet she fixed upon Chinita a -long and penetrating gaze, which seemed to read her very soul. “But you -are a strange, strange creature,—a peasant for all your pride. He is -still more a grand gentleman to stare at with fear than a murderer and -robber to you.” - -Chinita’s face turned white. The reproach of the woman stung her, yet -she felt it was just. “Oh, if I were a man!” she presently muttered; -“oh, if I were a man!” - -“Yes, the way would have been short then,” said Dolores. “Just a -knife-thrust, and the debt would have been paid. But the revenge of -women can be a thousand times more deep, more sweet, if one has the -patience to wait.” - -“Patience!” exclaimed Chinita in that shrill, metallic voice that -indicates a mental tension so violent and long continued that every -chord of the nervous system vibrates painfully at a word. “Have I not -had patience? Have I not waited at your bidding until I seem to live in -a frenzy of fear lest he should escape, and never hear, never see me, -never know who I am? And what have I gained? Ruiz is dead; Pepé perhaps -is dead. Ah, if I had spoken! Had Ramirez known that I live, it might -have saved them both!” - -The woman’s answering laugh had more of scorn than mirth in it. “Be -quiet, child!” she said. “You are young. You think Ramirez has a -conscience, and that you would have roused it to torment him. Pshaw! I -will arm you with a better weapon; a little patience—perhaps -to-morrow—and you will see!” - -“Mysteries! always mysteries!” exclaimed Chinita, with increased -impatience. “_Santa Maria!_ why do you not push back that black kerchief -from your brows? Have you the mark of a jealous woman’s knife across -your forehead? Is your hair white, or—or—” She paused, with a horrid -suspicion flashing through her mind. Was this woman, with whom she had -daily and nightly associated for weeks, a victim of that species of -leprosy known as the “painted”? Was some dread trace of it to be seen -upon that constantly covered head? Dolores with careless grace had -raised and clasped her hands above the unsightly kerchief. The bared -arms were clear and fair; only the deep-lined face they encircled looked -old, but care, not disease, had marked it. She looked at Chinita through -the growing dusk with an inscrutable expression in her almond-shaped and -beautiful eyes. They were eyes that still might fascinate at will. -Chinita drew a little nearer to her, and sighed deeply. There was a -sense of guilt upon the girl’s mind since she had heard of the death of -Ruiz; a sickening apprehension, too, for the fate of Pepé Ortiz. - -Dolores read her thoughts. She dropped one hand from her head upon the -young girl’s shoulder. There seemed something magnetic in the touch. -Chinita, though she would rather have resisted, yielded to it,—like a -nettle grasped in a strong hand. “Silly one,” said the woman soothingly, -“fret not yourself for Ruiz. Ramirez knew him better than did you. He -had had long years to con the lesson in. It is well for the weak -defenceless creatures of the earth that these wild beasts attack and -destroy one another!” - -Chinita looked unconvinced. In spite of doubts, she had had a certain -pride and solace in the belief that Ruiz would prove true to -Ramirez,—true through his love for her. She had purposely left him -ignorant of the change in her own views and feelings in regard to -Ramirez that he might be free to act upon his own impulses and -convictions. She knew not what she would have had him do, yet all the -same he had disappointed her. She had no clews to the motives of Ruiz, -other than those Dolores suggested to her, and there was an uncertainty -and vagueness overhanging him which made him in her eyes a victim to his -love for her, and a fresh cause for accusation of the man who seemed -destined utterly to bereave and despoil her. Strangely enough, in her -wildest excitement Chinita had never formulated for herself any definite -mode of action when she should see Ramirez,—as see him, accuse, defy him -she would! There had been a conviction in her mind that in her the -ghosts of the innocent he had slain, the shame,—which with strange -perversity he had shrunk from when it menaced his family pride in the -person of Herlinda Garcia,—the contempt and hatred of his wronged -sister, would all rise to confront and overwhelm him. That which should -follow, time, circumstance would determine; but that the wild fever of -her passion would be satisfied she would not doubt. She had longed with -an ever increasing excitement to find herself before Ramirez, and to -pour forth her wrongs in burning words. Yet this woman Dolores, with a -fascination even greater than the unconscious one that Ramirez himself -had exerted over her, had withheld her from her purpose, had even led -her to gain the secrets of the chieftain’s plans from his most trusted -confidants,—the young girl reddened with shame and anger, yet with -flattered vanity, when she remembered that the sight of her beauty had -been more potent than the gold of Dolores. Chinita had not guessed that -she had been purposely employed to act the part of a spy, and had -resented deeply the fact that her discoveries had more than once been -transmitted to Gonzales, and that her revenge was supposed to be -gratified by the consequent defeat which had overcome Ramirez. Her -longing was for a more dramatic, more direct revenge. Pedro and Dolores -could plot and scheme for the silent overthrow of him who had wronged -them; they gloried in their astuteness that made him an unsuspicious -victim, while Chinita writhed under it, and only the promise that in Las -Parras she should accuse Ramirez face to face had made endurable to her -the life of secret intrigue and absolute disguise and constant change -that she had led for weeks. The element of peril, it is true, had -stimulated her adventurous spirit; but she would fain have been in the -midst, not hovering a ready fugitive upon the edge of the fray. - -When weeks before Chinita had, after her faintness, opened her eyes in -the low, rocky cave in which Pedro lay, it had been to find him an -almost unrecognizable mass of wounds and bruises, lying on a sheepskin -pallet, gazing at her with wide-distended eyes, and ejaculating in tones -of dismay, mingled with incredulous delight, “What have I done? Oh God! -is it possible that she has come to me,—the miserable, dying Pedro?” - -“Yes, yes, Pedro, I am here!” she cried, staggering to her feet. “Ah, -the American thought I had forgotten thee; but thou wert in my heart all -the time that he talked. Ah, though I am of other blood, it is thou that -hast saved me! They would have thrust me out to die. I will cling to -thee while thou livest; I will avenge thee when thou diest!” - -“Hush!” muttered Pedro faintly, as she stooped and kissed his hand, -bedewing it with her tears. “Ah, I shall not die, now you have come. Did -I not tell you,” he asked, turning to a figure beside Chinita, “that I -should live if I could know she loved me?” - -“And this is the girl you have nurtured?” asked the stifled voice of a -woman. She was not as tall as Chinita, and she held a candle up close to -the face of the girl to look at her. Chinita was spent with fatigue; -moreover there were tears on her face, and she resented the inspection, -pushing away the woman’s hand rudely. Yet it was not that of a servant, -nor of a woman of the lower class. Even in the excitement of the moment -Chinita was conscious of wondering who and what this person was. How -came she there in the cave among these fugitives? - -“But for her I should have been dead already,” Pedro was saying. “She -has wondrous skill and knowledge of surgery and herbs. But,” he added, -in a low, apologetic voice, “she knows all. I have talked in my -delirium. I could not help it. You will pardon me,—if I die you will -pardon me?” - -“I have nothing to pardon!” cried Chinita. “What! you think because my -mother lives I would hide her name? No, no! I have endured enough for -her cowardice and the shame of Doña Isabel. No, no! let me but see -Ramirez,—this Leon Vallé,—and though it be before all the world, I will -declare who I am. The American, Ashley Ward, says he will claim me as -his cousin. Pepé must ride and tell him I am here, and we will have -vengeance together for the cruel deeds of Ramirez. You shall be avenged, -Pedro, you shall be avenged!” - -The sick man’s eyes glistened. As she spoke, Chinita’s face had glowed -with an unrelenting and cruel intensity of purpose. The woman at her -side had never once removed her eyes from her. No one was noticing her; -had they done so, they would have beheld an extraordinary series of -changes pass over her dark but mobile face,—suspicion, delight, doubt, -alarm, conviction. Suddenly she seized Chinita’s hand, and pressed it to -her heart; it was beating so tumultuously that the young girl drew back -startled. The woman thrust her hands under the loose folds of the black -kerchief that draped her head with a sombre yet Oriental grace, then -withdrawing them caught a stray lock of Chinita’s hair, and burst into a -long, low, triumphant laugh. - -Chinita drew herself away, alarmed and offended. Pepé had come in; and -looking at her anxiously he said, “Nina, do not mind her. Esteban tells -me she is a mad woman; yet she does no harm. She does not know what she -talks of, and one moment denies what she has said at another. It would -not be strange if she should tell you some dreadful tale, and afterward -laugh, and say grief had made her mad!” - -“And so it has,” cried the woman. “Ah yes, I have been mad; but that is -past. Yes, yes. Life of my soul,” turning to Chinita, “how beautiful -thou art! And the hair, it is a miracle! In all the world there should -be no other with such hair. Thou hast had good fortune, Pedro, to bring -up such a child. She is an angel. Ah, it is as if I had seen her all my -life! And thou hast a spirit to match thy face,” she added turning again -to Chinita. “Thou canst not brook a wrong. Well, well! we will make -common cause; and some day—soon, soon we will stand together before Leon -Vallé with such a tale, such a revenge, that even he will sink before -it. To think that after all these years, I shall turn against him the -dagger with which he has pierced me!” - -“Who are you? What do you know of me?” cried Chinita, shuddering, though -she understood that the weapon of which the stranger spoke was no -material tool. “Why should you join with me, or I with you? No, no; when -Pedro is able, we will go away, you your way, and I mine!” - -“Our ways lie together!” cried the woman, excitedly. “The one without -the other would fail. Oh! you think me mad, but I am not. I could tell -you things,—but no, I will wait; perhaps thou hast not even heard of me. -Ah! how many years is it since I disappeared from the world, that I have -been forgotten?” - -Pedro raised himself upon his elbow painfully, and gazed at her with a -long and eager scrutiny. “I know you now,” he said, “though I never saw -you but once, and then you were beautiful as the Holy Madonna on the -high altar at Pueblo.” - -“Yes,” she interrupted; “I am Dolores, whom Vallé loved. Ah, you think -that strange, because my beauty is gone, and I am old, and like a witch, -living in this murky cave! Where else should I go—I, whom he stole away -and betrayed, and despoiled and forsook?” - -“But you are rich,” said Pepé in wonder, and in a tone that seemed to -condone the rest. - -“Rich!” she said scornfully. “Rich! yes, for such needs as mine. Rich! -he used to give me jewels a queen might have been proud of. He thought I -wasted, lost, destroyed them, as he would have done, but I kept -them,—kept them for my child. Ah, I knew she would be beautiful, would -be worthy of the rarest and costliest I could give her. Ah, I would give -her jewels! such jewels as would buy her love, were she as capricious, -as hard, as Ramirez himself.” - -Chinita drew back from her, with a certain hauteur, a certain loathing -upon her face. “I have heard of you,” she said coldly. “You chose your -lot. If you have wrongs, they can be nothing to mine. See”—and she -pointed to Pedro—“what Ramirez has done but now; while but for his -murderous knife my father would have lived, and my mother would not have -been obliged to hide her disgraced head in a convent, and I should not -have been left a pauper at the gate of my mother’s house.” - -“There can be no wrongs greater than these?” said the woman half -interrogatively, half affirmatively. “Yet listen! He stole me away from -my husband; I swear I did not go willingly, though I loved him,—oh my -God, how I loved him! For him I died to the world. I forsook the father -who was dear to me as life. I lived a life of infamy, hiding in obscure -villages, in mountain huts, in caves when need were. I bore him -children; but they died,—all died as though there was a curse upon them. -That angered him; then he grew cold, then false and cruel. One day a -captive was brought into the camp for ransom,—a captive he himself had -made. He sent to me to look at the man and to set a price upon his head. -I went, as he told me, in gay attire, with jewels blazing on my arms and -neck, a diadem upon my head. When the prisoner looked up and saw me, -with the price of my shame as he thought upon me, he staggered, gasped, -and fell down dead. He was my father. My senses fled, yet when another -child was born they returned to me. She was strong and beautiful. I -clasped my treasure; but my heart burned against her father. I swore I -would leave him, that I would hide the child where he never should -discover her. Fool! fool! that I was! When I woke next day, for in my -weakness I slept, the babe was gone,—dead they told me; gone too the -pretty clothing I had made, the little trinkets I had placed about her -neck. But the blessed prayers I had bought from the holy nuns of La -Piedad were not in vain! No, no! wretch, demon, that he was!” - -Chinita’s heart beat suffocatingly. “What! you think the child was still -living?” she said. - -“I know it! I know it!” cried Dolores. “I feel it here,—here in my -heart, which beats for her. And sometime, when I find that child, if I -do find her, think you she will love me? Think you she will hate her -father as I do? Think you she will avenge my wrongs and hers?” - -“But if he loved her,” said Chinita; “if he meant to separate her -from—from such a woman as you had been! Oh, I know you have suffered, -that you have reason for vengeance; but—” she cried hysterically, -striking her hands together, terribly moved, she knew not why. The -strange woman broke into sobs, piteous to hear. Chinita clasped her -hands. “But you would not have her—your child—his child—hate the man you -loved?” - -“Hate him!” echoed Dolores. “I would have her hate him with such hate as -she would bear toward the fiends of hell. I would have her know him as -you know him,—the insatiable monster who wrecked the happiness of a -sister too fond, even when most foully wronged, to seize the vengeance -that was within her grasp. Ah, Doña Isabel it was who set him free to -murder, to betray, to wrench the child from its maddened mother, and -cast it out by the first rude and careless hand that would do his will! -My God! were you his child could you have pity? Would you not feel your -wrongs,—the wrongs of the mother who bore you?” - -Dolores spoke with the wild excitement of one who for years had brooded -on this theme. Chinita herself seemed to be struggling with some fantasy -of a disordered brain. The woman actually glared upon her, as if on her -reply hung her destiny. Overcome by the unexpected demand upon her -sympathy,—a demand that the peculiar circumstances of her life made -irresistibly impressive,—Chinita shrank with horror at the tumult of -emotion which revealed to her mind the possibilities of her own -passionate nature. - -“Tell me no more! Ask me no more!” she cried. “Ah, if I were his -daughter! But no, I am the daughter of Herlinda Garcia, and of the man -he murdered in secret. Yes, I will seek Ramirez out. I—I—O God! I know -not what I will do, but I will have justice! revenge! revenge!” - -The girl ended with a scream, and fell down, burying her head on Pedro’s -shoulder. The wounded man, his ghastly face pressed close against her -twining hair, looked appealingly to the excited woman who stood over -them. There was scorn, rage, intense offence upon her face; but slowly -they died out, and she turned away with the weary air of one in whom -some periodic excess of passion or madness had wrought its work and -brought its consequent exhaustion. A half hour later she brought the -girl some food, wonderfully dainty for the place and its resources, and -gently fed and soothed her. Pepé and Pedro looked on wonderingly. All -that had been said had passed so quickly that they had not realized that -aught of consequence had happened; but in the quiescent attitude of -Chinita, and the strange calm that had fallen upon the excited and -erratic woman, they instinctively felt that a new phase of life had -begun for them. A new spirit was in future to lead and rule them; and it -dwelt in the frame of this half-crazed woman, who had declared herself -mistress of the cave. The men thenceforth seemed led by a spell; and to -the same spell Chinita gradually succumbed. - -This had been the first meeting of Chinita with the woman who stood -talking with her nearly two months later at the garden gate of Las -Parras. They had left the cave weeks before,—Pepé and Pedro, the latter -still bruised and maimed, to join the troops of Gonzales; and Chinita, -unable to resist the influence of Dolores, followed rebelliously with -swift and unerring movement the fortunes of Ramirez. By what arguments -Pedro had been won to consent to separate from his foster-child, and to -maintain silence concerning her to Ashley, can be but guessed; though -certain it is that Chinita on her part reminded him of the promise he -had made Herlinda to protect her child from Doña Isabel, to whose care -she justly suspected Ashley Ward would strive to return her. Meanwhile -Dolores adroitly fostered in the girl’s mind that hope of a peculiar and -swift revenge, which was to satisfy at once the many wrongs that in -those diverse lives were clamorous for justice; while an intense -anticipation urged the gatekeeper to hasten without delay to join the -Liberal army,—the anticipation of that event which presented to his mind -such wondrous possibilities. The convents once opened, would Herlinda -claim her child? Would she by some strange miracle confront Leon Vallé -and her proud mother with the proof of that which Ashley Ward had in -spite of adverse law and custom declared still possible,—the proof of -her marriage with the American who had been slain without accusation, -without the possibility of defence? - -Pedro could not reason; he could but doggedly wait, and guard with -silent fidelity and ferocity the charge that had been given him. That a -superior intelligence, an undeclared authority potent as an armed power, -had for a time wrested Chinita from him, made him only the more -tenacious when once again he held her in his grasp. His foster-child -while in the mountains with the woman whose life was bound in the same -interests, the same mysteries, as her own, was safe from the -possibilities of removal from his cognizance. - -Pedro was asked no questions which he cared not to answer, when he -presented himself among the Liberal forces. Ashley, tranquil in the -belief that Chinita was with Doña Carmen in Guanapila, avoided more than -casual mention of her name; and Pedro jealously guarded his secret, and -patiently waited the moment he superstitiously believed would come,—the -moment which, when it did come, gave him the sharpest sting he had ever -known in his stoical existence; when Herlinda Garcia cried in -uncontrollable horror and dismay, “What! you,—_you_ have brought up my -child? She was given to _you_!” - -On the journey from El Toro there was but one thought in the mind of him -who had served with such blind faithfulness. For the first time a doubt -tormented him. “Would the beautiful, uncontrollable idol of his heart -satisfy the longing—the years of longing—of the woman who freed from her -bonds was hastening to claim her daughter and acknowledge her before the -world?” As the hours passed, Pedro shunned the eyes of Herlinda, though -they looked upon him with a grateful affection that should have been at -once an invitation to confidence and a recompense of his long fidelity. -Yet with the remembrance of Chinita ever before him, the glance of -Herlinda seemed that of accusation and reproof. Her words rang like a -knell in his heart. He, who knew the vices and virtues of the two castes -which he and the still beautiful woman represented, knew that like oil -and water they were irreconcilable, and understood the full significance -of that involuntary cry, “What! _you_,—_you_ have brought up _my_ -child?” - - - - - XLVI. - - -A league or less from the village of Las Parras there stood—and perhaps -still stands—a small chapel, built, no one knows in fulfilment of what -pious vow, at the entrance to a mountain pass of the roughest and most -dangerous sort alike from the forces of Nature and of humanity. Likely -enough some rich hidalgo, escaping from brigands, raised here the humble -pile, and vowed that the lamp should ever burn before the Virgin and her -blessed Child. But through the long years of war, as a pious ranchera -had said in holy horror, the blessed Babe had remained in darkness. But -some time after midnight, one rainy night, a sudden flash of flame -lighted up not only the dingy altar but the whole of the small mouldy -interior of the chapel, and a scene was revealed which a passing monk -might have viewed with reverence, so nearly must it have copied one that -may have been common enough when Joseph and Mary journeyed to Jerusalem, -eighteen hundred years and more ago. - -This thought indeed entered the mind of a man who riding through the -drizzling rain caught a glimpse of the unusual light through the -unguarded doorway, and reining his horse gazed curiously in. At first -the place seemed to him full of women and jaded beasts; then he saw -there were but four of each, and that one of the human creatures was a -man,—a priest. The women,—good heavens! they were the Señora Doña Isabel -Garcia, and the girl whom he had once seen under circumstances almost as -extraordinary,—she whom he knew as the daughter of Ramirez and the -foster-child of Don Rafael. Of the other woman he scarcely thought, yet -he instinctively guessed she was Doña Carmen. Ashley Ward looked round -in bewilderment. Only that day some definite account of what had -occurred at Tres Hermanos had reached him, told by a man who had been -with the administrador and his mother in their vain endeavors to trace -the girl who had been so boldly spirited away. The search had been long -delayed because of the illness of Doña Feliz; but once begun, it had -been prosecuted with untiring zeal. Not a village, scarce a hut -throughout that region had been unvisited, yet all in vain. - -Ashley had heard the tale with deepest sympathy. Oh inconceivable -obtuseness! that it had not once occurred to him or to Gonzales that the -girl of whom they had heard as sojourning with Doña Carmen, and whom he -had believed to be Chinita, might prove to be her vanished -playmate,—simply because the remembrance of the house of Doña Carmen had -slipped from their minds when their supposed knowledge of the movements -of Chinita made Doña Carmen’s young guest no longer an object of -interest to them, simply because the means adopted by Ramirez for the -security of Chata would never have suggested themselves to minds less -daring, less original than his own. Ashley Ward turned from the doorway -dazed. The presence of these personages in such a place, at such a time, -seemed unreal, bewildering, ominous. - -Upon the heavy sand the horse that Ashley rode had made so little noise -that it had not roused the miserable travellers as they cowered wet and -shivering around the sputtering fire, upon which the priest with -unhesitating hands threw some dry portion of a wooden railing and the -broad cover of a sacred book of music. Vain sacrifice! for being of -parchment it but curled and blackened, yet would not burn any more than -would the bare stone floor upon which the welcome embers lay. - -Turning back a few paces Ward encountered the carriage he had -accompanied thither. With bowed heads, endeavoring thus to shelter their -faces from the mist, General Gonzales and the servant Pedro rode, one on -either side of the heavy travelling carriage. Just as Ward appeared they -caught sight of the light. The coachman and his helper, half dead as -they were from want of sleep, saw it too, and all the mules were stopped -as though transfixed. The men began to mumble prayers, crossing -themselves with unction. Gonzales, following his habit of caution as -well as the motion of Ward, rode softly forward to reconnoitre. - -Before the occupants of the carriage had time to question the meaning of -the stoppage, Gonzales had returned. His face was white with excitement -as he dismounted and opened the door of the vehicle. - -“Señorita,” he said in a voice that shook from suppressed emotion, “a -wonderful thing has happened!” - -Herlinda leaned eagerly forward. She caught the gleam of the light and -the grim outline of the chapel against the leaden sky. “Is my -child—Leon, my uncle—here?” she gasped. - -“No, no! that would not be so strange; we may perhaps at any moment -encounter them. But your mother, your sister,—they are in yonder church, -drenched, wretched; travellers seemingly more anxious, more eager than -ourselves. From a word I heard, they too seek—your child.” - -Gonzales spoke the last two words with evident difficulty and -repugnance. Herlinda did not notice that. She scarce had heard more than -the words, “Your mother, your sister.” In trembling haste she descended -from the carriage. Instinctively she clasped the arm of Ashley Ward to -support her through the inequalities of the roadway; and followed by -Gonzales and Pedro, who had dismounted, she sped with surprising -fleetness to the open door of the chapel. - -At the sound of approaching footsteps, those within sprang to their feet -in terror. Even the brutes hurtled together within the very rail of the -altar, leaving free the space between the fire and the low arch beneath -which the intruders stood. The women stood panting, their hands clasped -upon their hearts, their lips parted, their eyes staring wildly. Doña -Isabel was foremost. She first saw as in a vision her daughter, whom she -believed still within convent walls, supported by the arm of the -American. She sank upon her knees; her tongue clave to the roof of her -mouth. - -“Mother,” said Herlinda in a voice which gave conviction of the reality -of her presence, “I am no ghost. The convents have been opened,—I am -free. Where is my daughter? You took her from me,—give her back to me. -My child! my child!” - -She advanced into the chapel with a gesture so earnest, so impassioned, -that it seemed that of concentrated power and anguish combined. - -Doña Isabel bowed her head on her hand. Under the red light of the fire -her form seemed to shrink and wither. - -“Have mercy! oh, Herlinda, have mercy!” she moaned. “Your child is not -here. I am seeking her, oh with what grief, what anguish! Ah, my God, it -is true,—all, all that you can say to me!” She raised her eyes and they -fell upon Gonzales. “I thought to save your honor and mine. That there -still might be love and joy for you, I gave the child to Feliz to do -with as she would. I did not think, I could not think—” - -“Cruel, cruel mother!” cried Herlinda, “and false Feliz! Oh, what -reproaches will be bitter enough, sharp enough, to heap upon her! She -promised me she would love my child, care for it, protect it,—yes, even -from you, unnatural mother that you were! Yet together you have -degraded, perhaps brought about the ruin of, my child! I have been shut -in from all the world,—and yet I am not the weak girl I was. No, the -heart and brain of a woman grow even in utter darkness. You had no right -to thrust my child away. No, she was mine,—come disgrace, come scorn, -what would, she was mine. You tore her from me,—give her back to me!” - -While this extraordinary scene took place, Chata with indescribable -emotion recognized the pale impulsive face of the nun of El Toro,—so -pale still, so worn, yet so strangely young, and lighted by the intense -and resolute spirit of a wronged and noble woman. - -“Yes, give me back my child!” reiterated Herlinda. “Ah, Mother, I read -your heart; I know now better than I did then your motives for utterly -ignoring, utterly denying my connection with the American. Your brother -killed him: it was to shelter him, Leon Vallé, as much as to hide what -you believed my shame, that you tore my baby from me. You resolved that -there should be neither wonder nor question that could incriminate your -idol. Oh, a sister’s love, a sister’s sacrifice is beautiful; but where -in all the world before has it been stronger, more prescient than that -of the mother for her child?” - -Doña Isabel raised her hands above her head as though to ward off some -crushing blow. Carmen rushed forward and caught her sister’s hand. -“Herlinda,” she cried, “say no more. I am your sister—I am Carmen! Oh, I -have always known there was a mystery; yet I have loved you, believed -you true, believed you pure. You were almost a child,—you knew not the -evil!” - -“I was not a child!” returned Herlinda, proudly, yet clasping her sister -with a grateful joy. “For all my trusting love I would not have stooped -to sin. I was married. Yes,” she added defiantly, “though all the world -deny it, I was married. God grant that I may one day stand before my -husband’s murderer,—oh, with that word I will overwhelm him. What! he, -the ravisher, the assassin, think to avenge _my_ honor!” - -The form of the excited woman dilated as she spoke. Through the dim -chapel her voice pealed with a ring of purity and truth, more clear than -the tone of silver bells. There was a clamor of answering voices. Even -the priest started forward, but Chata caught his flowing gown and -whispered him in broken accents,— - -“Oh, for the pity of God hide me. Let her not see me! Oh, this is too -terrible, too terrible!” She shook with dread. “Madre Sanctissima, it -will kill me if her eyes fall upon me! I am the daughter of the man she -seeks. O Virgin of Succors, pity me!” - -The burly person of the priest supported and sheltered the stricken and -trembling girl. “Courage, courage!” he whispered. “Thou shalt plead for -him. For thy sake she will forego the claims of justice,—she will -forgive!” He naturally attributed her emotion to apprehensions for her -father’s fate. “Yes, even I will plead with her.” - -But in the brief space of this interference there had been a movement at -the door, and a strange voice was heard. Gonzales—who throughout had -stood just back of Herlinda, chafing that he was not at her side, for he -would have championed her before the world—disappeared for a moment; -then returning, strode forward to the fire and raised Doña Isabel with a -not unkindly though imperious hand. - -“Señora,” he said, “I have this moment heard news of Ramirez, brought by -an escaped prisoner, one of your own men, Pepé Ortiz by name. As we -suspected, the defeated and desperate chief is on his way to, perhaps -has entered, Las Parras. There is no time to be lost. With him—accusing -him, for such was her mad purpose—we may find your daughter’s child. Oh, -would to God,” he added with fervor, “I had known this horrible blight -upon Herlinda’s young life! I would have sheltered, I would have -sustained her. I would have appealed to Rome.” - -Doña Isabel looked at Gonzales in a dazed way, slightly swaying as she -stood. “Thou wert ever noble, ever true,” she said dreamily. “Thou -lovedst her. But Leon? She spoke of Leon. Then it is true! He did indeed -murder the American. But he is dead; he is dead.” - -The mind of the poor lady seemed wandering. She stood looking about her -with an awful smile. Gonzales saw that she did not connect the name of -Ramirez with her brother. Illness, exertion, and the intense emotions of -that hour had made it impossible for her to receive any fresh -impressions, or even to recall those that perhaps had once faintly -suggested themselves and had faded. She was conscious of but one -thought, one hope. “Herlinda’s child, Herlinda’s child!” she repeated -again and again. “O God, to find, to give back the child!” - -The agonized woman would have clasped the hand of Gonzales appealingly, -but he had turned and led Herlinda from the place. Chata, gliding toward -Doña Isabel, drew the arm of the suffering lady around her neck, and -murmuring fond words, thus stood supporting her. And thus some moments -later Ashley Ward found them. The young girl seemed in his eyes the very -embodiment of Tenderness supporting Despair. - -Ashley took her hand. “Oh, Chata!” he said, “what a fearful error this -has been! And Chinita, where shall we find her? Poor girl, poor girl! -God grant she has not found that man; the horrible fascination he held -over her might prove more fatal than her newly-sworn hatred. Come, come, -let us hasten. It is at least certain that Ramirez is at this moment in -Las Parras.” - -“Chinita!” cried Chata, her heart sickening. “What, is Chinita the child -of Doña Herlinda? I love her, but oh she—the Señorita Herlinda! No, no, -it cannot be!” - -Ashley smiled drearily. “The eagle is sometimes found in a dove’s nest,” -he said. “Ah, with such a mother what a glorious woman that strange -defiant creature might have become! But what powers for good have been -debased in those low associations among which she was thrown!” - -The young man stopped, remembering Doña Isabel; but she had moved away. -She was already at the door. Gonzales, who was returning for her, led -her silently to the carriage. The widow who had been with Herlinda had -dismounted and joined Chata and the priest, as they issued from the -gloomy chapel. The poor woman looked confused and wretched; it was a -comfort to her to hear the muttered benediction of the friar. - -Chata mounted the sorry beast on which she had come, despite the -remonstrance of Ashley. “No, no, I cannot bear the accusing gaze of the -Señorita Herlinda,” she protested. “You, Don ’Guardo, know who I am. My -place is at Leon Vallé’s side, not here. O God, would that it were not -so!” - -The rain had ceased. There was a streak of dawn in the sky. The road lay -like a pale yellow serpent, which grew brighter as they followed its -sinuous twinings among the hills. There was a slight accident, which -detained the carriage; but Chata, accompanied by Pepé,—who had -recognized her with amazement, and who gave her a brief account of all -that had happened in the life of Chinita since they had parted,—hastened -on as speedily as was possible to her jaded beast. Just at the dawn she -found herself entering the straggling town; and suddenly the mass of -verdure beyond a broken wall which they were skirting, and over which -she was gazing with eyes as heavy as the dripping herbage, sparkled as -with a thousand diamonds. The sun had risen; and facing it—his eyes so -dazzled that the figures upon the roadway were to him like the scattered -trees, mere black, shapeless masses—was the object of her dread, yet -also at that moment of her fondest anguish bloody and travel-stained -with the marks of battle and flight upon him, the wreck of what she had -last seen him. - -Filial duty and womanly pity supplied the place of that love which she -could not conjure even then, and with a cry she drew rein at the -prostrate gate; and to the amazement of Pepé, who knew nothing of the -relations between the young girl and the defeated chieftain, she sprang -to the ground and rushed to the embrace of the hunted man. Looking back -she saw the others approaching, and sought to repel them by an -entreating gesture. Her voice was heard in warning; but Ramirez heeded -it no more than he did the sound of wheels and the tread of horses on -the roadway. He had known of late such strange vicissitudes and such -unaccountable experiences, which had been so unforeseen, often so -disastrous yet fleeting, that they seemed the phantasmagoria of a -frightful dream. These noises, these figures, were but the same to his -stunned senses. But this girl in his arms, who called him father,—she -was real flesh and blood, and thrilling with life. He clung to her with -rapture; and as he would have done in a dream, he saw her there without -surprise,—only with a vague bewilderment, a fear that she too would fade -away. No! She clung to him with tears, as though seeking to protect him -from some menaced danger. - -Ah, he understood: this man who had reached them was the American who -had accused him at the grave of him whom he had murdered. Great God! Had -beings of this world and the other combined against him? There was -Pedro, or his ghost; there too was Herlinda! Yes, though it was years -since he had seen her, and then only for a moment in her lover’s arms, -he knew her instantly. - -Ramirez recoiled before her glance. His arms fell from Chata. The -released nun, who had not known that the young girl had been of their -company, thrust her aside, then caught her hand and looked searchingly -into her face. Her own face quivered as she looked. It grew whiter and -whiter still, as Chata raised her eyes and returned the gaze. - -“I saw you from the convent grate—at El Toro,” said Herlinda, -breathlessly. - -Carmen’s face brightened like that of one who solves a joyful mystery. -Chata sighed deeply. - -“Chata,” cried Ashley, who divined what must be in the mind of Herlinda, -“speak! Tell the Señorita that you are not her daughter. Her suspense is -terrible!” - -But Chata could not utter a word. Ramirez broke into a laugh. He himself -heard that betrayal of his over-strained nerves with a shudder. He would -not have laughed had his will served. Why should he laugh? Then the -shame, he thought, of this poor Herlinda had been complete. She had a -child; she had come to the avenger of her shame hoping to find the lost -proof of her frailty. Even his sister Doña Isabel was crying wofully, -“Oh Leon, Leon, is it thou? Art thou the Ramirez my poor Chinita loved? -Oh, in pity give her back to me! I will forgive all—yes, even Norberto’s -death—if thou wilt give Herlinda her child.” - -“You are all mad!” cried Ramirez, recalled to himself. “What know I of -Herlinda’s child, or even that she exists? I only know that this is -mine,” he laid his hand upon Chata,—“she of whom you thought to cheat -me. Ah, had I known there was another infant to claim your secret love,” -he added mockingly, “I could have better disposed of my own!” - -While the unrepentant brother of Doña Isabel was saying this, Pedro in -gruff and surly accents was reminding him of the girl who had stopped -him upon the road years before, and had given him an amulet. Yes, the -impatient listener remembered her; he had heard her name,—Chinita; that -was the girl of whom Rafael had spoken, she who had been the foundling -of the gatekeeper. A vision of the unkempt, witch-like creature who had -startled his horse, as she stood under that accursed mesquite-tree, rose -before him. Was that Herlinda’s child? She stood still with her hand -upon Chata, gazing upon her incredulously. Ramirez threw it off in -sudden passion. - -“Uncle Leon,” said Herlinda humbly, hopelessly, “you killed my husband. -Oh, I would forgive you that, could you give me my child! Oh, when I saw -this girl here—” she dropped her face into her hands and wept. - -“Shame on you!” cried Ramirez. The sight of woman’s tears irritated him, -and Herlinda’s assertion of her marriage made blacker still a deed whose -silent, stealthy consummation had ever been to him a secret cause of -shame. “What though I killed your lover, was it not to avenge the honor -of the Garcias?” - -“The honor of those you had disgraced!” cried the outraged woman -scornfully,—“of her whose life you had crushed! No, your hand was ready -for murder, your heart delighted in blood,—and so you killed my love, -without a word of warning; and because in your vile, cruel heart you -could believe no woman pure, no man just, you thus brought in an instant -desolation and ruin upon me!” Ramirez shrank before the indignant pathos -of her voice. “Ah,” she added, “all, all this I would forgive—O God, -have I not prayed to thee and thy saints for grace to forgive?—if I -could but behold my child. They tell me she has followed you,—one says -because of the strange infatuation your mad career presents to her; -another, that she may avenge her wrongs, her father’s murder. I warn -you! beware! such a girl is not to be scorned.” - -“I know nothing of her,” cried Ramirez, vehemently. “Here is your -mother—Pedro; they have known the girl, they should render you an -account of her. As for me, there is a man here who upon the grave of him -I killed declared himself his avenger: it is to him I will answer for -that deed.” - -Ashley Ward involuntarily drew his sword, eager for the offered combat; -but Pedro and Gonzales threw themselves between the two men. “This is -neither the time nor the place,” exclaimed Gonzales; while Herlinda -cried, “Do not touch my uncle for your life! My mother, my mother!” - -Doña Isabel had indeed thrown herself upon her knees before the priest, -and frantically implored his interposition. As he raised her he was seen -to speak; but no one heard his words, for shrill female voices in -altercation added to the confusion of the moment, and every eye was -turned in the direction whence they came. - -“Let me go! let me go! I will hear no more! I will wait no longer! He -will escape. Oh, it is not with such weak words I will speak!” - -Two female figures issued panting from the covert,—it seemed that the -elder woman had striven to hold the other back, but the younger had -triumphed. Doña Isabel uttered a cry of infinite gratitude and joy. -Chata caught and held the girl as she came. “Chinita! thank God,” she -cried, “you are here!” - -Pedro in an ecstasy seized the robe of Herlinda. “There, there,” he -cried, “is your child! your beautiful child!” - -“Yes!” cried Chinita in mad excitement which only burning words could -relieve. Not then could she pause for fond greetings or reverent tears; -the sight of Ramirez seemed at once to fire yet absorb her wildest -passions. She sprang toward him, as one may suppose the lion’s whelp -faces a tiger that in some fierce struggle has filled the air with the -scent of blood. The very aroma arouses and maddens its kindred nature. -With an outburst of eloquence which like arrows tipped with venom seemed -to sting and paralyze the object upon which they were directed, she -assailed Ramirez with the story of his crimes; and separated from the -picturesque and daring events that had accompanied and disguised them, -and told with dramatic eloquence and vivid anger, they thrilled every -listener with shuddering abhorrence and dismay. Blackest of all, she -pictured the murder of John Ashley. Ramirez himself seemed visibly to -shrink and wither before her scathing words, while Herlinda pressed her -hands over her ears, entreating her to cease. The agonized woman could -not endure the vivid rendition, for the girl unconsciously acted out, as -she conceived, the scene of midnight murder. - -From the moment of Chinita’s appearance, Ramirez had seemed overwhelmed -as by the sight of some unearthly being; and while she spoke his eyes -riveted themselves upon her, his jaw fell, his countenance took the hue -of death. Suddenly the girl burst into wild sobs and tears. Her rage was -spent. “Go, go!” she said,—“you who have cursed my life, you who killed -my father, you who condemned my mother to a convent and me to a beggar’s -life; for was it strange they cast me out, hoping I should die? And so I -should have done but for Pedro— Fiend, to pursue him with devilish -tortures after so many years! Oh! that it was which brought my hate upon -you. Ah, I had loved you from a child,—not with a woman’s fancy, but as -though the thought of you were the very soul that was born with me. Of -you I thought, for you I prayed—was it not so, Chata? It was I who gave -you the amulet they said would insure life and fortune. I planned and -schemed to give you wealth and power. Ah, even when I knew the cursed -wrong you had done me, I could not believe, I could not realize; that -murdered man had been dead so long he seemed of another world, another -time,—he seemed nothing to me. But the torture of Pedro,—ah, that was -real, that was of my life; it maddened me. Ah! ah! ah! it brought your -downfall. You have wondered how your skill, your well-laid plans, your -valor, all have failed you. It was because of me! because of us!” - -Chinita turned and indicated her companion with a gesture of her hand. -She saw then what had riveted the gaze of Ramirez, and rather than her -words had held each witness dumb. Dolores—her face kindled into -fictitious youth, her beautiful eyes gleaming with a flame that seemed -to scathe—had drawn from her brows the kerchief she had worn. The act -had revealed a wondrous mass of brown hair, with the russet tinge of the -chestnut, gleaming in the sunlight with threads and spirals of gold. The -two heads, that of Chinita and of the woman, seemed to have been -modelled the one from the other, so exact was their form, and so similar -the texture and color and peculiar growth of the marvellous wealth of -curls that crowned them both. - -Chinita drew back with dilated eyes, speechless with the overwhelming -horror of conviction. Chata would have clasped her in her arms, but she -drew herself away. In the woman whose wild laugh rang upon the air Chata -recognized the one who had thrown herself before the horse of Ramirez, -and who had lain a bruised and shameful figure upon the convent steps at -El Toro. - -There was a moment of profound silence. Even the sultry air seemed -waiting, as though for the thunderclap that follows the lightning flash. - -“Ah, Leon Vallé! you know now who accuses you,” cried the woman. “Oh, is -not this a sweet revenge, to curse you by the lips of your own -child,—the child you robbed me of? What! you thought _that_ your child!” -she pointed with ineffable contempt to Chata, who in the overwhelming -excitement of the moment clung to the pallid and trembling Herlinda. -“Bah! what is she to the beautiful being I bore you,—into whose soul was -infused the idolatrous love that had been wrested from my heart, the -love that had been my ruin? Ah, such love dies hard! It lived again in -her,—it lived in her heart for _you_. Because of it I dared not claim -her, though I knew her the moment my eyes fell upon her,—yes, as you -know her now. In whom but in our child could be reproduced this -wonderful wealth of hair you used to call the siren’s dower? In whom but -in our child could reappear your own face, glorified, masked, by woman’s -softness? Ah, Doña Isabel and this Pedro were deceived; they thought it -was the beauty of Herlinda that they saw. But I knew it to be yours. Ah, -in all these weeks I have taught your child how to hate you; I have -plucked out that root of love; I have made more real the fancied wrongs -of which she has accused you. Trifles! trifles! trifles all!—the murder -of a supposed father, the torture of an old man, the death of a base -lover,—yes, that Ruiz to whom from her birth you destined her. But I,—I -cry to you give back my innocence! give back my ruined life! give back -my father, who by your act was killed as surely as though your hand had -struck the blow! give me the young years of my daughter’s life, those -she squandered a beggar at your sister’s gate! Ah, you cannot, you -cannot! But I,—I can avenge my wrongs and hers.” - -Quick as a flash the infuriate woman levelled a pistol. Quick as an -answering flash Chinita threw herself before her and sprang to her -father’s breast. A second shot following so quickly on the first that -they seemed as one, a cry of agony, a scream of madness, the cries of -women, the hoarse voices of men, made the garden a pandemonium of -hideous sounds. The desperate woman, whose bullet had touched its mark -harmlessly to Ramirez through the slender form of Chinita, fled madly. -Ramirez, scarce conscious whether the blood which streamed over him was -that of his daughter or his own, bore the wounded girl through the -throng that pressed him, wildly calling upon his child,—alas, alas! his -but for the brief span during which her warm young blood should leap -from the deadly puncture in her breast! - -Herlinda, the first to regain self-control even amid the intense -revulsion of feeling through which she had almost instantaneously -passed, tore into shreds some portion of her garments and strove to -stanch the wound; but in vain. Chinita, with a smile which succeeded her -first wild cry and stare of horror, motioned her away. She pressed her -own fingers on the wound, raising her head from the arm of Ramirez to -say, “I saved you, I saved you! just as I used to think I would do. Ah, -I could not hate you,—no, no! though I tried. And she could not root out -my love,—it lives here still.” She pressed her hand still tighter on the -wound. “My father! my father!” - -The face of the hardened man contracted in agony. He turned toward Doña -Isabel and Herlinda with a heartrending cry. “You are avenged,—both, -both, avenged! O my God! You never can have known such agony as this. Oh -wretched man that I am, to see the sum of all my crimes cancelled by -this terrible reprisal!” - -The hand of the dying girl fell from its place. Chata knelt and placed -her own with desperate energy against the fatal wound. Chinita smiled -and faintly kissed her. “My dream has come true,” she said. “Ah, when -they pity me you will say, ‘She always longed to die for him.’ Tell them -it was best that I should die, I loved him so. Death wipes out every -wrong. He is my father!” - -Ramirez groaned. Great drops of sweat stood on his brow. He strove still -to support her; but Gonzales on the one side and Ashley on the other -bore her weight. - -By this time the garden was full of people. A man forced his way through -the throng. - -“Reyes! Reyes!” cried Ramirez, “Villain, did you not as I commanded give -my child to Isabel, my sister; or was yours the accursed hand that -brought her to this pass?” - -Reyes gazed at the dying girl in horror. A suspicion of the -misapprehension under which Ramirez had acted, and which had confirmed -Ruiz in his treachery, had haunted him for days, since in a remote -village he had met the administrador of Tres Hermanos and heard from him -the tale of the carrying away of Chata. He had hastened toward Las -Parras with Don Rafael and his mother, bent on warning Ramirez and -confessing the wild carelessness with which he had disposed of the child -who had been confided to him, and who he had supposed until his meeting -with Chinita had indirectly reached the person to whom she was destined. -It had not been possible for him—a man in whom the paternal instinct had -never dwelt—to imagine it the one virtue in the callous, fierce, and -unscrupulous Ramirez. But with this bleeding, dying figure in his arms -Ramirez seemed transformed. Reyes fell on his knees. - -“Ah, had you but told me the whole truth!” sighed the dying girl. “A -Garcia you said! Ah, I should have been prouder to be _his_ daughter -than a thousand times Garcia!” - -She turned her head, and her eyes fell on Ashley’s face and rested -there. A soft, strange illumination animated her own, as though from -some inward light just kindled. “Adios! Adios!” she murmured. “Ah, you -were noble, generous! yet you thought I did not feel, that I did not -understand. Ah, could I live, you should see! But this is best; you will -never need trouble now for Chinita. No, no, no! do not grieve— Ah, that -might make me weak! I would not—find it—hard—to die.” - -She looked at him long and fixedly,—perhaps to her as to Ashley a secret -as sacred as it was precious, was then revealed. A blueness crept around -her mouth, a glaze over her beautiful eyes. “No wonder that she loved -the American!” she whispered at length,—dreamily, as though her mind -wandered to the past. The words sank like lead in Ashley’s heart, to be -forgotten never, never! - -After a moment the lips of the dying girl moved in prayer. The priest, -who had from time to time endeavored to control an emotion which seemed -a personal rather than a merely sympathetic grief, bent over her, and -all present fell on their knees. Chinita whispered in his ear a few -words, and received absolution with a smile of perfect peace. Then began -the solemn litany for the departing soul; Chinita was evidently sinking -rapidly. - -Pedro had fallen on his knees before her, in grief too deep for words. -Pepé from behind him gazed into her glazing eyes with stoical despair. -Suddenly she smiled, and laying her arm over Pedro’s shoulder, extended -her blood-stained hand, looking at Pepé with the pretty, winning, -disdainful smile of old, and said faintly, though proudly, “I am the -daughter of the Señor General. Lead me, Pepé,—lead me. I am tired!” - -And thus with her arm around him who had been so blindly faithful, and -with her hand in that of the peasant youth who through life had been her -adoring slave, with one long sigh, which left her lips smiling as it -passed, Chinita fell asleep,—resting forever from the passion and -turmoil of life. - -“Peace, peace, peace!” reiterated the solemn voice of the priest, in -assurance, in warning, in invocation. It penetrated hearts to which the -very word had seemed a mockery. The hardest, the most reprobate, the -haughtiest, the most sorrowful, repeated it with a sob. Ramirez on his -knees, crushed to the earth, heard it as the cry of a despairing angel. -Where for him could peace be found? - - - - - XLVII. - - -When Pedro Gomez rose from his knees he held in his hand a little square -reliquary of faded blue. The string from which it had hung had been -pierced by the fatal bullet, and it had dropped unheeded from Chinita’s -neck. - -Reverent hands bore the corpse into the desolate house; while Ramirez, -or Leon Vallé,—for by his true name he was ever after called,—rising at -the entreaty of his sister, stood like one bereft of sense or movement. -Suddenly he laid his hand upon the gatekeeper’s arm and muttered -hoarsely, “Kill me Pedro! See, I have no sword. If thou wilt not for -vengeance, do it for love. You loved her,—for her sake end my misery!” - -Pedro laid the reliquary in his hand. “If it should not be true?” he -said doggedly of the faded silk. “Oh, was it for this I bore so many -years the mocking silence of Doña Feliz and my mistress? No, no! it -cannot be. Open this. ’Twas on her bosom when she came into my hands. -The niña Herlinda promised me a token. It will be found there,—there in -the blessed reliquary. Fool that I was to think it had nothing to -declare to me. Ah, how your hands shake! Well, ’tis but a moment’s -work.” - -The gatekeeper ripped the sewed edges with his dagger’s point quickly, -desperately, as though he were profaning a sacred thing,—then blankly -looked at the worthless trifles on his palm. Just a tiny curl of brown -and gold, and the eye-tooth of some animal, a fancied charm against -infantile diseases, both wrapped in a paper scrawled with a -faintly-written prayer. - -Pedro was convinced. Till then he had clung to the belief that had given -to his clownish life the elements of heroism, of love and sacrifice. -Chinita the beautiful, the beloved, was dead—dead; but to his soul there -came a bereavement far more terrible than that of death. He raised his -glazing eyes appealingly, hopelessly. Ah, there was Doña Feliz,—she whom -all these years he had accused as the hard, unpitying witness of the -degradation of Herlinda’s child! and of her Doña Isabel with sobs was -entreating brokenly in God’s name some news of the charge she had -received years before. Pedro listened with a jealous eagerness, which -the involuntary cry of Chata, interrupting for a moment the answering -voice of Doña Feliz, made intolerable. “Mother of God!” he cried at -length, “it was Doña Feliz then who guarded Herlinda’s child!” - -“O false, cruel Feliz! why did you deceive me?” cried Doña Isabel. “Why -did you suffer me to believe the gatekeeper’s foundling was of my own -flesh and blood? Ah, God, so she was! It was the beauty of my mother -that deceived me; it was repeated in the offspring of Leon, as it could -never be in that of the American. Ah, it was for that I loved Chinita -with such passionate tenderness and remorse! Oh, why did you suffer it? -Why give me no warning? And now Chinita is dead, and my daughter cries -to me for her child, and I cannot answer her.” - -“Did I not warn you at this gate?” responded Doña Feliz, “that the day -would come when you would bitterly repent the words you uttered; when -you bade me take and hide the babe even from your knowledge,—never to -mention her whether living or dead, that to you it might be as though -she had never existed? Have I not obeyed your mandate? Ay, even when my -heart bled because I saw the agony, the delusion under which you -labored, I have suffered with you, but I have been faithful.” - -Doña Isabel bent her head in speechless woe. For her there might not be -even the poor consolation of reproach. Yet she murmured, “In pity, where -is Herlinda’s child?” - -“She is here. Thank God she is here!” replied Doña Feliz,—“this girl -whom you have believed to be the daughter of my son. Weeks ago your -brother, Leon Vallé, reft her from us, believing her his own. Only by -revealing the secret we had sworn to keep could Rafael have saved her. -Ah, God knows! Perhaps at the last moment, when hastening from the -strong room she threw herself into the power of the ravisher that she -might save her foster-father from death, then perhaps his will might -have failed; but he was speechless. I have been ill; yes, near to -death,”—her haggard face, her sunken eyes, her wasted figure attested -that,—“yet we sought her far and near. Until last night we had no -tidings. A rough soldier listened in the inn to the tale we everywhere -proclaimed. He came to me secretly; ‘Señora,’ he said, ‘the girl you -seek is perhaps in the house of Doña Carmen. Ramirez himself is -deceived.’ This was the first stage of our route to Guanapila. We need -go no farther; for standing there, Herlinda, with Carmen, is your -child.” - -Doña Feliz broke into sobs, sinking weak as a child into the arms of Don -Rafael. “The struggle is over,” she said to him; “our task is -accomplished, the long dissimulation is ended!” - -Herlinda and Chata had not needed the conclusion of the brief words of -Doña Feliz; they had clasped each other in a rapturous embrace. But the -sobs of the distressed lady recalled them from their joy, and hastening -to her side they poured out in fervent gratitude such words as seemed to -repay to her sensitive heart its long years of devotion as truly as -though each word had been a priceless jewel. - -“Ah!” said Doña Feliz, “all, all is nothing to merit the happiness of -this hour. It is the poor Pedro, he whose matchless devotion mocked my -poor work, who is worthy of such words as these. Ah, my heart bled for -him, but I could not, dared not speak.” - -“Oh foolish unreasoning girl that I was so to bind you!” cried Herlinda. -She turned to speak to Pedro, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was a -movement among the villagers, who, repulsed from the windows of the -house by the soldiers, began to disperse, when the voice of the priest -stopped them. - -“Listen, friends,” he said. “This has been a dread and fearful hour, an -hour to try the souls of men. I am old, yet never have I known such -anguish as this day has brought to me. Some sixteen years ago, a -stranger in this land, ignorant of its language and customs, I came to -this village with a young American whom I met. He was a handsome youth -and won my heart,—a warm, Irish heart that often led me contrary to my -judgment. The American told me that here his love was staying. I laughed -at him for fixing his heart upon some brown-skinned, dark-eyed peasant -girl. He did not contradict me, but bade me be ready in the early -morning to wed him to the lovely object of his youthful passion. I -remonstrated, yet was glad to serve him. Though no priest lived here, -the little church was open; the people were glad of the opportunity to -hear Mass. Just before it began, John Ashley and Herlinda Garcia were -married. As she for a moment loosened the reboso she wore to make the -necessary responses, I caught a glimpse of a face that led me to suspect -it was no simple peasant who stood before me. Yet it was only in after -years, when the requirements of the law and the customs unalterable as -law among the different castes existing in your land became known to me, -that I remembered with disquiet the marriage I had celebrated here. I -was a missionary among the tribes of Northern Indians, doing good work. -I strove to assure myself that, irregular as I knew the marriage to -be,—contracted in secret, unknown to and probably against the consent of -the young girl’s parents, in a language unintelligible to the few -witnesses,—the parties were probably living in amity, satisfied, as -surely God and man might be, with a marriage which only the quibbles of -the law made disputable. Yet I could not be at ease; a voice seemed -calling me hither. Alas, alas! I came but to witness the consummation of -the tragedy begun years, years ago,—a tragedy, the direct outcome of my -fatal error. But I will atone. I will go—would to God in penance it -might be upon my knees—to the Holy Father in Rome, and pray him to -ratify the marriage. Doña Herlinda Garcia, pure in name as in deed, -shall give a spotless name to the child of her virtuous love!” - -The old monk ceased; tremblingly he wiped away his tears. “Pardon, -pardon!” he murmured to Herlinda. “Oh my daughter, how you have -suffered! But daughter, the certificate I gave,—had you not the paper? -That, however subject to cavil, would have declared your purity.” - -“Ah, a paper!” cried Herlinda. “I have thought of it a thousand times. -It was in English. I thought it was a blessed prayer, though John told -me to treasure it as my life; that was why I sewed it in the reliquary I -placed about my baby’s neck.” - -With a cry Chata drew forth the tiny bag, almost the counterpart of that -poor Chinita had worn, and the sight of which had confirmed the mistake -of Pedro,—on such slight things hangs fate! She thought of how often she -and Chinita had compared them when children, laughingly proposing to -exchange or open them, yet ever shrinking from tampering with them in -superstitious awe. Pedro, who had returned, snatched it from her -hand,—the act irresistible. As he opened it with his dagger’s point, a -filigree earring fell into his palm. He groaned and turned away. - -Herlinda caught from his hand a tattered paper. “Read, read!” she cried -to Ashley. “See that he was noble, true as you have said! He was my -husband!” - -The proof attested by the signature of the long dead Mademoiselle La -Croix, and that of the living priest, was of the simplest, the most -efficient, and all these years had been preserved by the piety or -superstition of the child to whom it had been confided, and who, had she -but known it, had so vital an interest in its discovery. Chata gazed at -the paper in blank amaze. Around her were men and women giving thanks to -God and his saints. At the knees of Herlinda was her uncle Leon Vallé -and Doña Isabel her mother. - -Ashley Ward was the first to break the spell. He took Herlinda’s hand. -“Remember, here is a man who never doubted you,” he said. - -“And here one who would have died for you!” said Gonzales. - -In a single phrase each had expressed the loyalty of the nation he -represented,—Ashley, that of faith in man’s honor and woman’s chastity; -Gonzales, the tenacious love that distrust might change to jealous -madness, but which it could never destroy. - - -Within a few hours a sad and solemn funeral cortege set forth from Las -Parras, bearing all that was mortal of the beautiful Chinita. Not far -from the limits of the town Ashley and Gonzales came upon a startling -and awful sight,—a woman lay dead upon the road, her garments sodden, -her beautiful hair defiled by the mud of the highway. She had fallen -face downward. As though some evil omen warned him, Leon Vallé hastening -from the rear anticipated them in raising the corpse. - -It was that of the maddened Dolores. It had needed no weapon to reach -her heart; despair and agony had summoned to her destruction the swift -and fatal malady that had killed her father. Those who saw her, he who -pressed her wildly to his breast and bade her live, accusing himself not -her, called it a broken heart. As her child had said, “Death wipes out -every wrong.” Only remorse, pity, love survive. - -They buried them both—the two of that sad name Dolores—in the hacienda -church. But one lies in a nameless grave, and the other is marked by one -that recalls a vision of a beautiful girl, to whom a happier destiny -should have brought the joys of life, and whose proud spirit should have -conquered its cares; yet its perplexities, its conflicting passions, had -made the pilgrimage so hard, so set with thorns, that she had been -content—yes, thankful—to end it there: “CHINITA.” - -In so short a life the unfortunate girl could not have wandered far from -heaven; yet for years there was one on earth who spent upon each day -long hours of prayer and fasting at the tomb of her brother’s child,—to -the memory and the name of Chinita uniting that of Leon, and embracing -both in the undying love which looked beyond the grave for its -perfection and its reward. At evening would come one older, but more -peaceful than the mourner, to lead her home; and hand in hand, the two -would pass out into the soft and tranquil air. Thus Doña Isabel and -Feliz renewed with tears the friendship of their youth; and thus—ended -the ambitions, the passions, the impetuous pride, sources of such -strange and grievous perplexities—they await together in peaceful gloom -the light of a perfect day. - - - - - XLVIII. - - -It was thus that Ashley Ward and his bride beheld them in after -years,—years during which he had returned to the United States to take -part in that great conflict which had been raging there while he had -been gaining experience in the irregular and inglorious strife in which -his zeal for liberty had been stimulated by private aims. The purity of -his patriotism was unstained, however, by any less glorious motive; and -during the last two years of the Civil War for the Union there was none -who fought more valiantly than he, nor one who laid down his sword with -a more just renown, to dedicate himself to the profession which in the -lack of fortune was both his choice and a positive need. - -That Ward should renounce the fortune of John Ashley was an actual grief -to Herlinda and to Chata herself, but he would have it so; and even Mary -Ashley was pleased it should be, although, as she said, her niece was -already most absurdly wealthy in right of the Garcias for a girl of such -retired and humble tastes,—one whose only extravagance was in her -charities. Mary Ashley found in the love of Chata—she soon abandoned the -attempt to call her by the stately name of Florentina—a recompense for -the scrupulous conscientiousness which had led her to seek the supposed -wife and possible child of her brother. - -It was not until after the Pope had ratified her marriage that Herlinda -Ashley visited the home of her husband’s family. After that she returned -at intervals while Chata was being educated as her aunt desired. During -that time Gonzales, from whose hand Herlinda had received the Papal -edict, was fighting anew the battles of freedom on his native soil; and -by his side, doing gallant deeds unstained by crime, was Leon Vallé. But -when the short-lived empire of Maximilian was overthrown, when Herlinda -crowned the long fidelity of Gonzales by following the rare example -given by a few released nuns and became the wife of the Liberal soldier, -the silent yet resolute man who had been his constant companion in arms -disappeared, and with him Pedro Gomez. - -No one but Rosario, who as the wife of Don Alonzo took the lead among -the young and idle wives of the hacienda employés, asked any questions -concerning the disappearance of Leon Vallé. Doña Rita looked wise, and -Don Rafael smiled at her, for she knew nothing, and could conjecture -nothing that might bring evil. Rafael was the same indulgent, easy -husband he had ever been. It did not occur to either that a more perfect -confidence might have been observed between them,—they had followed -custom; what more could be needful? - -Chata and her mother sometimes talked of Vallé with wondering pity; but -they saw that Doña Isabel was content,—his fate was not a mystery to -her. Perhaps he was wandering in foreign countries. At least, after he -had gained the new, fresh fame which honored the name of Leon Vallé, he -was no more seen in Mexico. There was but one thought that troubled the -heart of Chata. She could not, even for Chinita’s sake, forgive the -murderer of her father. - -It was when Ashley Ward had gained a certain assurance of success and -ultimate wealth, that he wooed and won the object of his early, generous -search, his early protecting interest, his later love. In the heart of -Chata no rival flame had ever glowed; Ashley had been her first, her -only love. And he perhaps was scarcely conscious that the pang which -ever came at the sound of one almost sacred name, was the throb of a -scar where love had set its deathless root. Chata never suspected that -an uncommon grief had made possible the tranquil happiness which she -shared with her husband; while he never questioned even in his own soul -whether his happiness would have been greater, or perhaps have been -changed to torture and torment, had the beautiful, erratic daughter of -Leon Vallé been spared to earth. Whatever wild emotion had thrilled him, -Chata,—the good, the sweet, the gentle Chata, with the intelligent and -reflective mind, which curbed and perfected the enduring emotions of her -heart,—was the only woman he had ever thought of as his wife. They -rejoiced in perfect trust and sympathy,—she never imagining, he never -regretting, the more impetuous passion that might have been. - -It was while on their wedding journey, attended by an escort of -soldiers, which the insecurity of the roads in the years immediately -following the overthrow of the empire made necessary, that they went -into a remote district among the mountains, some twenty leagues from -Vera Cruz, from which port they were to sail for their Northern home. -The captain of the escort was a silent, swarthy young man, who born a -peasant, had by his valor and development of extraordinary qualities as -a strategist acquired during the contest with the French a reputation -that would, had the incentive of personal ambition urged, have made it -possible for him to reach the highest grade of military rank. But he -fought for principle, not for glory; to forget despair, not to challenge -fame. The man was Pepé Ortiz. Upon such men, the world when joy and love -fail, sometimes thrusts greatness. This was predicted of the silent -captain. - -One night the young officer came to the inn and invited the bride and -groom to walk with him in the moonlight. They passed through the streets -of the town, where the massive adobe houses, white as marble in the -deceptive light, threw shadows black as ink, and presently emerged upon -a paved road, which led to a garden set thick with trees. The air was -heavy with perfume; hundreds of fireflies, where the thicket was so -dense no ray from the sky might penetrate, seemed to fill the place with -ghostly fires. It was enchanting, weird,—ay, awe-inspiring. Chata clung -to her husband’s arm in mute expectancy. - -Soon in the near distance they heard a sound as of measured strokes, and -a low continuous moan. The strokes quickened to the whizz of heavy -flails, the moan to the dirge of the _Miserere_. Then they understood -with a shock of horror that they were about to witness one of the -processions of penitents, which, though forbidden by the civil law, -still were conducted secretly in remote and fanatical districts. Chata -would have fled, but the pity at her heart seemed to paralyze her limbs. -Ashley, with a feeling strangely differing from mere curious expectancy, -put his arm around her and awaited the advent of the dolorous company. - -Presently the penitents came from amid the shelter of the trees, like -mournful ghosts upon the moonlit road. They were all men,—men to whom -the memory of their sins was intolerable,—and as they walked they -wielded the cruel scourges on their bared shoulders, and ceaselessly -intoned the dirge. It was past midnight, and for hours they had -continued the dreadful flagellation and the unceasing march. Blood -streamed from many a gaping wound; they staggered as they walked; more -than once a fainting sufferer fell, and was lifted to his feet by the -man who walked beside him. All this dismal company were masked; each -wore a friar’s gown and a rough shirt of hair, which hung pendant from -the girdle at the waist, above which was seen the cut and bleeding skin. - -Sick with horror, when the last of the miserable wretches had gone by, -Chata leaned sobbing on her husband’s breast. But he gently set her upon -the grassy bank of the roadside, and followed by Pepé hastened to the -help of a poor wretch, above whose prostrate form his faithful attendant -bent with despairing gestures. They raised the apparently dying man, and -turned aside the mask. The moonlight fell upon the face of Leon Vallé, -worn with the passions of other years and with the griefs of the -present, yet nobler than they had ever beheld it. At that moment the -likeness between this man and Chata became in Ashley’s eyes peculiarly -intensified. - -The trembling and sensitive young wife had approached, with an absolute -certainty that something was transpiring which was to touch her own -being. Scarcely surprised, though with a shock, she recognized Leon -Vallé. Presently she bent and kissed him with tears. From that moment -Chata had no secret rancor to regret,—the penitent was forgiven. - -“Señores, Señores, I pray you leave us; he revives, he will in a moment -recover consciousness,” cried the rough voice of Pedro Gomez. With that -complete self-abnegation which, when the claims and interests of his -seignorial chieftain are involved, is perhaps presented in its highest -development by the Mexican peasant, he had ignored the revengeful -abhorrence with which the memory of Leon Vallé had for years inspired -him, and for the sake of her whom he had loved and served as the scion -of a noble race, had dedicated his life to the father for whom she had -gladly died. - -As Doña Feliz had once done years before, Chata kissed with reverence -the hand of this embodiment of fidelity, and with a throbbing heart -turned from the last scene in the drama of which her life had formed a -part. Thenceforth a new act was entered upon, in which deep and tender -memories and present peace and trust are working out the trite but -blissful tale of wedded love. - -University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note - -The proper nouns Castile and Castilian are sometimes spelled with a -double ‘ll’. - -On p. 466, an opening quotation mark seems to be misplaced. See the -table below. - -Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. -The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions. - - 77.6 thus acquiring an exquisite [caligraphy] _sic_ calligraphy - 100.21 thrust the ta[il/li]sman into his belt Transposed. - 117.6 If Vi[n]cente Vicente is a traitor Removed. - 141.30 on the wounded shoulder[,/.] Replaced. - 181.23 a ru[r]al beau from a neighboring village Inserted. - 207.28 Yo[n/u] are not old enough Inverted. - 260.31 chilled and silenced her[,/.] Replaced. - 316.27 the son of Pancho Vall[e/é] Replaced. - 340.1 with an elec[t]ric thrill. Inserted. - 351.21 I pray you!’[”] Added. - 352.37 A look of ind[i/e]scribable hauteur Replaced. - 365.38 she murm[e/u]red in a low voice Replaced. - 409.37 a sad and solemn funeral cort[é/è]ge Replaced. - 415.17 into the chap[par/arr]al. Replaced. - 427.22 reputations of special sanc[t]ity Added. - 438.35 this silent, creeping e[mn/nm]ity Transposed. - 442.4 she cried[,] staggering to her feet. Added. - 466.36 [“]this girl whom you have believed Added. - 466.37 to be the daughter of my son. [“]Weeks Removed. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATA AND CHINITA *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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display: inline; } } - .htmlonly {visibility: visible; display: inline; } - @media handheld { .htmlonly { visibility: hidden; display: none; } } - ins.correction { text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray; } - .quote { font-size: 105%; margin-top: 1.0em; margin-bottom: 1.0em; } - .linegroup .group { margin: 0em auto; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Chata and Chinita, by Louise Palmer Heaven</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Chata and Chinita</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Louise Palmer Heaven</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 12, 2021 [eBook #64269]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: KD Weeks, Nick Wall and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATA AND CHINITA ***</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>Transcriber’s Note:</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c001'>Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s <a href='#endnote'>note</a> at the end of this text -for details regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered -during its preparation.</p> - -<div class='htmlonly'> - -<p class='c001'>Any corrections are indicated using an <ins class='correction' title='original'>underline</ins> -highlight. Placing the cursor over the correction will produce the -original text in a small popup.</p> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='epubonly'> - -<p class='c001'>Any corrections are indicated as hyperlinks, which will navigate the -reader to the corresponding entry in the corrections table in the -note at the end of the text.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c002'><span class='sc'>Chata and Chinita</span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c000'> - <div><span class="blackletter">A Novel</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='small'>BY</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>LOUISE PALMER HEAVEN</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>BOSTON</div> - <div>ROBERTS BROTHERS</div> - <div>1889</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><i>Copyright, 1889</i>,</div> - <div><span class='sc'>By Louise Palmer Heaven</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c004' /> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><i>All rights reserved.</i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><span class="blackletter">University Press:</span></div> - <div><span class='sc'>John Wilson and Son, Cambridge</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c005'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span><span class='xlarge'>CHATA AND CHINITA.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c006' /> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c007'>I.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>On an evening in May, some forty years ago, Tio Pedro, -the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">portero</span></i>, or gate-keeper, of Tres Hermanos, had loosened -the iron bolts that held back the great doors against -the massive stone walls, and was about to close the hacienda -buildings for the night, when a traveller, humbly -dressed in a shabby suit of buff leather, urged his weary -mule up the road from the village, and pulling off his -wide sombrero of woven grass, asked in the name of -God for food and shelter.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro glanced at him sourly enough from beneath his -broad felt-hat, gay with a silver cord and heavy tassels. -The last rays of the setting sun flashed in his eyes, allowing -him but an uncertain glimpse of the dark face of the -stranger, though the shabby and forlorn aspect of both -man and beast were sufficiently apparent to warn him -from forcing an appearance of courtesy, and he muttered, -grumblingly,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Pass in! Pass in! See you not I am in a hurry? -God save us! Am I to stand all night waiting on your -lordship? Another moment, friend, and the gate would -have been shut. By my patron saint,” he added in a lower -tone, “it would have been small grief to me to have turned -the key upon thee and thy beast. By thy looks, Tia Selsa’s -mud hut for thee, and the shade of a mesquite for thy -mule, would have suited all needs well enough. But since -it is the will of the saints that thou comest here, why get -thee in.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Eheu!” ejaculated a woman who stood by, “what -makes thee so spiteful to-night, Tio Pedro, as if the bit and -sup were to be of thy providing? Thou knowest well -enough that Doña Isabel herself has given orders that no -wayfarer shall be turned from her door!”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>“Get thee to the hand-mill, gossip!” cried the gatekeeper, -angrily. “This new-comer will add a handful of -corn to thy stint for grinding; he has a mouth for a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">gordo</span></i>, -believe me.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The woman, thus reminded of her duty, hurried away -amid the laughter of the idlers, who, lounging against the -outer walls or upon the stone benches in the wide archway, -exchanged quips and jests with Pedro, one by one -presently sauntering away to the different courtyards -within the hacienda walls or to their own homes in the -grass-thatched village, above which the great building rose -at once overshadowingly and protectingly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The stranger, thus doubtfully welcomed, urged his mule -across the threshold, throwing, as he entered, keen glances -around the wide space between the two arches, and beyond -into the dim court; and especially upon the rows of stuffed -animals ranged on the walls, and upon the enormous snakes -pendent on either side the inner doorway, twining in hideous -folds above it, and even encircling the tawdry image -of the Virgin and child by which the arch was surmounted. -These trophies, brought in by the husbandmen and shepherds -and prepared with no unskilful hands, gave a grim -aspect to the entrance of a house where unstinted hospitality -was dispensed, the sight of whose welcoming walls -cheered the wayfarer across many a weary league,—it -being the only habitation of importance to be seen on the -extensive plain that lay within the wide circle of hills -which on either hand lay blue and sombre in the distance. -For a few moments, indeed, the western peaks had been -lighted up by the effulgence of the declining sun; the last -rays streamed into the vestibule as the traveller entered, -then were suddenly withdrawn, and the gray chill which -fell upon the valley deepened to actual duskiness in the -court to which he penetrated.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Careless glances followed him, as he rode across the -broad flagging, picking his way among the lounging herdsmen, -who, leaning across their horses, were recounting -the adventures of the day or leisurely unsaddling. He -looked around him for a few moments, as if uncertain -where to go; but each one was too busy with his own affairs -to pay any attention to so humble a wayfarer. Nor, indeed, -did he seem to care that they should; on the contrary, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>pulled his hat still further over his brows, and with his -dingy striped blanket thrown crosswise over his shoulder -and almost muffling his face, followed presently a confused -noise of horses and men, which indicated where the stables -stood, and disappeared within a narrow doorway leading -to an inner court.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile, Tio Pedro, his hands on the gate, still stood -exchanging the last words of banter and gossip, idly delaying -the moment of final closure. Of all those human -beings gathered there, perhaps no one of them appreciated -the magnificent and solemn grandeur by which they were -surrounded any more than did the cattle that lowed in the -distance, or the horses that ran whinnying to the stone -walls of the enclosures, snuffing eagerly the cool night air -that came down from the hills, over the clear stream which -rippled under the shadow of the cottonwood trees, across -the broad fields of springing corn and ripening wheat, and -through the deep green of the plantations of chile and -beans and the scented orchards of mingled fruits of the temperate -and torrid zones. For miles it thus traversed the -unparalleled fertility of the Bajio, that Egypt of Mexico, -which feeds the thousands who toil in her barren hills for -silver or who watch the herds that gather a precarious -subsistence upon her waterless plains, and which gives -the revenues of princes to its lordly proprietors, who scatter -them with lavish hands in distant cities and countries, and -with smiling mockery dole the scant necessities of life to -the toiling thousands who live and die upon the soil.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Many are these fertile expanses, which, entered upon -through some deep and rugged defile, lie like amphitheatres -inclosed by jagged and massive walls of brescia and -porphyry, that rise in a thousand grotesque shapes above -their bases of green,—at a near view showing all the -varying shades of gray, yellow, and brown, and in the distance -deep purples and blues, which blend into the clear -azure of the sky. One of the most beautiful of such spots -is that in which lay the hacienda or estates of the family of -Garcia, and one of the most marvellously rich; for there -even the very rocks yield a tribute, the mine of the -Three Brothers—the “Tres Hermanos”—being one of -those which at the Conquest had been given as a reward -to the daring adventurer Don Geronimo Garcia. It was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>surrounded by rich lands, which unheeded by the earliest -proprietors, later yielded the most important returns to -their descendants. But at the time our story opens, the -mines and mills of Tres Hermanos, though they added a -picturesque element to the landscape, had become a source -of perplexity and loss,—still remaining, however, in the -opinion of their owners, a proud adjunct to the vast -stretches of field and orchard which encircled them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The mines themselves lay in the scarred mountain -against which the reduction-works stood, a dingy mass of -low-built houses and high adobe walls, from the midst of -which ascended the great chimney, whence clouds of sulphurous -smoke often rose in a black column against the sky. -These buildings made a striking contrast to the great house, -which formed the nucleus of the agricultural interests and -was the chief residence of the proprietors, and whose lofty -walls rose proudly, forming one side of the massive adobe -square, which was broken at one corner by a box-towered -church and on another by a flour-mill. The wheels of -this mill were turned in the rainy season by the rapid -waters of a mountain stream, which lower down passed -through the beautiful garden, the trees of which waved -above the fourth corner of the walls,—flowing on, to be -almost lost amid the slums and refuse of the reduction-works -a half-mile away, and during the nine dry months -of the year leaving a chasm of loose stones and yellow -sand to mark its course. Along the banks were scattered -the huts of workmen, though, with strange perversity, -the greater number had clustered together on a sandy -declivity almost in front of the great house, discarding the -convenience of nearness to wood and water,—the men, -perhaps, as well as the women, preferring to be where all -the varied life of the great house might pass before their -eyes, while custom made pleasant to its inmates the nearness -of the squalid village, with its throngs of bare-footed, -half nude, and wholly unkempt inhabitants.</p> - -<p class='c001'>These few words of description have perhaps delayed -us no longer than Tio Pedro lingered at his task of closing -the great doors for the night, leaving however a little -postern ajar, by which the tardy work-people passed in -and out, and at which the children boisterously played -hide-and-seek (that game of childhood in all ages and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>climes); and meanwhile, as has been said, the traveller -found and took his way to the stables. Before entering, -he paused a moment to pull the red handkerchief that -bound his head still further over his bushy black brows, -and to readjust his hat, and then went into the court upon -which the stalls opened. Finding none vacant in which to -place his mule, he tethered it in a corner of the crowded -yard; and then, with many reverences and excuses, such -as rancheros or villagers are apt to use, asked a feed of -barley and an armful of straw from the “major-domo,” -who was giving out the rations for the night.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“All in good time! All in good time, friend,” answered -this functionary, pompously but not unkindly. -“He who would gather manna must wait patiently till -it falls.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But I have a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">real</span></i> which I will gladly give,” interrupted -the ranchero. “Your grace must not think I presume to -beg of your bounty. I—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tut! tut!” interrupted the major-domo; “dost think -we are shop-keepers or Jews here at Tres Hermanos? -Keep thy <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">real</span></i> for the first beggar who asks an alms;” and -he drew himself up as proudly as if all the grain and fodder -he dispensed were his own personal property. “But,” -he added, with a curiosity that came perhaps from the -plebeian suspicion inseparable from his stewardship, “hast -thou come far to-day? Thy beast seems weary,—though -as far as that goes it would not need a long stretch to tire -such a knock-kneed brute.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I come from Las Vigas,” answered the traveller, doffing -his hat at these dubious remarks, as though they were -highly complimentary. “Saving your grace’s presence, -the mule is a trusty brute, and served my father before -me; but like your servant, he is unused to long journeys,—this -being the first time we have been so far from our -birthplace. Santo Niño, but the world is great! Since -noon have my eyes been fixed upon the magnificence of -your grace’s dwelling-place, and, by my faith, I began to -think it one of the enchanted palaces my neighbor Pablo -Arteaga, who travels to Guadalajara, and I know not where, -to buy and sell earthenware, tells of!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The major-domo laughed, not displeased with the homage -paid to his person and supposed importance, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>suffering himself to be amused by the villager’s unusual -garrulity. Las Vigas he knew of as a tiny village perched -among the cliffs of the defile leading from Guanapila, -whence fat turkeys were taken to market on feast-days, -when its few inhabitants went down to hear Mass, and -to turn an honest penny. They were a harmless people, -these poor villagers, and he felt a glow of charity as if -warmed by some personal gift, as he said, “Take a fair -share of barley and straw for thy beast, and when thou -hast given it to him, follow me into the kitchen, and thou -shalt not lack a tortilla, nor frijoles and chile wherewith -to season it.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“May your grace live a thousand years!” began the -villager, when the major-domo interrupted him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What is thy name? So bold a traveller must needs -have a name.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Surely,” answered the villager, gravely, “and Holy -Church gave it to me. Juan—Juan Planillos, at your -service.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The major-domo started, laid his hand on the knife in -his belt, then withdrew it and laughed. “Truly a redoubtable -name,” he exclaimed; then, as they passed into -another court over which the red light of charcoal fires -cast a lurid glare, illuminating fantastically the groups of -men who were crouching in various attitudes in the wide -corridors, awaiting or discussing their suppers, “I hope -thou wilt prove more peaceful than thy namesake: a very -devil they say is he.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The villager looked at him stupidly, and then with interest -at the women who were doling from steaming shallow -brown basins the rations of beans and pork with red -pepper,—a generous portion of which, at a sign from the -major-domo, was handed to the stranger, who looked -around for a convenient spot to crouch and eat it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The major-domo turned away abruptly, muttering, -“Juan Planillos! Juan Planillos! a good name to hang -by. What animals these rancheros are! Evidently he -has never heard of the man that they say even Santa -Anna himself is afraid of. Well, well, Doña Isabel, I -have obeyed your commands! What can be the reason -of this caprice for knowing the name and business of every -one who enters her gates? In the old time every one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>might come and go unquestioned; but now I must describe -the height and breadth, the sound of the voice, the -length of the nose even, of every outcast that passes by.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He disappeared within another of the seemingly endless -range of courts, perhaps to discharge his duty of reporter, -and certainly a little later, in company with other employees -of the estate, to partake of an ample supper, and -recount to Señor Sanchez the administrador, with many -variations reflecting greatly on his own wit and the countryman’s -stupidity, the interview he had held with the -traveller from Las Vigas. Any variation in the daily record -of a country life is hailed with pleasure, however -trifling in itself it may be; and even Doña Feliz, the administrador’s -grave mother, listened with a smile, and did -not disdain to repeat the tale in her visit to her lady, Doña -Isabel, which according to her usual custom she made -before retiring for the night.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The apartments occupied by the administrador and his -family were a part of those which had been appropriated -to the use of the proprietors and rulers of this circle of -homes within a home, which we have attempted to describe. -The staircase by which they were reached rose, -indeed, from an inferior court, but they were connected -on the second floor by a gallery; and thus the inhabitants -of either had immediate access to the other, although the -privacy of the ruling family was most rigidly respected; -while at the same time its members were saved from the -oppression of utter isolation which their separation from -the more occupied portions of the building might have entailed. -This was now the more necessary, as one by one -the gentlemen of the family had, for various reasons or -pretexts, gone to the cities of the republic, where they -spent the revenues produced by the hacienda in expensive -living, and Doña Isabel Garcia de Garcia,—still young, -still eminently attractive, though a widow of ten years -standing,—was left with her young daughters, not only to -represent the family and dispense the hospitality of Tres -Hermanos, but to bear the burden of its management.</p> - -<p class='c001'>She was a woman who, perhaps, would scarcely be commiserated -in this position. She was not, like most of her -countrywomen, soft, indolent, and amiable, a creature who -loves rather than commands. A searching gaze into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>depths of her dark eyes would discover fires which seldom -leapt within the glance of a casual observer. Seemingly -cold, impassive, grave beyond her years, Doña Isabel -wielded a power as absolute over her domains as ever did -veritable queen over the most devoted subjects. Yet this -woman, who was so rich, so powerful, upon the eve on -which her bounty had welcomed an unknown pauper to her -roof, was less at ease, more harassed, more burdened, as -she stood upon her balcony looking out upon the vast extent -and variety of her possessions, than the poorest peon -who daily toiled in her fields.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Her daughters were asleep, or reading with their governess; -her servants were scattered, completing the tasks of -the day; behind her stretched the long range of apartments -throughout which, with little attention to order, -were scattered rich articles of furniture,—a grand piano, -glittering mirrors, valuable paintings, bedsteads of bronze -hung with rich curtains, services of silver for toilette and -table,—indiscriminately mixed with rush-bottomed chairs -of home manufacture, tawdry wooden images of saints, -waxen and clay figures more grotesque than beautiful, the -whole being faintly illumined by the flicker of a few candles -in rich silver holders, black from neglect. Doña -Isabel stood with her back to them all, caring for nothing, -heeding nothing, not even the sense of utter weariness and -desolation which presently like a chill swept through the -vast apartments, and issuing thence, enwrapped her as -with a garment.</p> - -<p class='c001'>She leaned against the stone coping of the window. -Her tall, slender figure, draped in black, was sharply outlined -against the wall, which began to grow white in the -moonlight; her profile, perfect as that of a Greek statue -unsharpened by Time yet firm as Destiny, was reflected -in unwavering lines as she stood motionless, her eyes -turned upon the walls of the reduction-works, her thoughts -penetrating beyond them and concentrating themselves -on one whom she had herself placed within,—who, successful -beyond her hopes in the task for which she had -selected him, yet baffled and harassed her, and had planted -a thorn in her side, which at any cost must be plucked -thence, must be utterly destroyed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The hour was still an early one, though where such primitive -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>customs prevailed it might well seem late to her when -she left the balcony and retired to her room, which was -somewhat separated from those of the other members of -the family, though within immediate call. Soothed by the -cool air of the night, the peace that brooded over village -and plain, the solemn presence of the everlasting hills,—those -voiceless influences of Nature which she had inbreathed, -rather than observed,—her health and vigor -triumphed over care, and she slept.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span> - <h2 class='c007'>II.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Meanwhile, the moon had risen and was flooding the -broad roofs and various courts of the great buildings with -a silvery brilliancy, which contrasted sharply with the inky -shadows cast by moving creatures or solid wall or massive -column. While it was early in the evening, the sound -of voices was heard, mingling later with the monotonous -minor tones of those half-playful, half-pathetic airs so -dear to the ear and heart of the Mexican peasantry; but -as night approached, silence gradually fell upon the scene, -broken only by the mutter or snore of some heavy sleeper, -or the stamping of the horses and mules in their stalls.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The new-comer Juan Planillos, who had joined readily -in jest and song,—though his wit was scarce bright enough, -it seemed, to attract attention to the speaker (while absolute -silence certainly would have done so),—at length, following -the example of those around him, sought the shaded -side of the corridor, and wrapping himself in his striped -blanket lay down a little apart from the others, and was -soon fast asleep.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Men who are accustomed to rise before or with the dawn -sleep heavily, seldom stirring in that deep lethargy which -at midnight falls like a spell on weary man and beast; yet -it was precisely at that hour that Juan Planillos, like a -man who had composed himself to sleep with a definite -purpose to arise at a specified time, uncovered his face, -raised himself on his elbow, and glancing first at the sky -(reading the position of the moon and stars), threw then a -keen glance at the prostrate figures around him. The very -dogs—of which, lean and mongrel curs, there were many—like -the men, fearing the malefic influences of the rays of -the moon, had retired under benches, and into the farthest -corners, and upon every living creature profound oblivion -had fallen.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was some minutes before Planillos could thoroughly -satisfy himself on this point, but that accomplished, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>rose to his feet, leaving the sandals that he had worn upon -the brick floor, and with extreme care pushing open the -door near which he had taken the precaution to station -himself, passed into the first and larger court, which he -had entered upon reaching the hacienda. As he had evidently -expected, he found this court entirely deserted, -although in the vaulted archway at the farther side he -divined that the gate-keeper lay upon his sheepskin in -the little alcove beside the great door, of which he was the -guardian.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As he stepped into this courtyard, Juan Planillos paused -to draw upon his feet a pair of thin boots of yellow leather, -so soft and pliable that they woke no echo from the solid -paving, and still keeping in the shadow, he crossed noiselessly -to a door set deep in a carved arch of stone, and -like one accustomed to its rude and heavy fastenings, deftly -undid the latch and looked into the court upon which -opened the private apartments of the family of Garcia. -He stood there in the shadow of the doorway, still dressed, -it is true, in the ranchero’s suit,—a soiled linen shirt open -at the throat, over which was a short jacket of stained -yellow leather, while trousers of the same, opening upon the -outside of the leg to the middle of the thigh, over loose -drawers of white cotton, were bound at the waist by a scarf -of silk which had once been bright red; his blanket covered -one shoulder; his brows were still circled by the handkerchief, -but he had pushed back the slouching hat, and the -face which he thrust forward as he looked eagerly around -had undergone some strange transformation, which made -it totally unlike that of the stolid mixed-breed villager who -had talked with the major-domo a few hours before. Even -the features of the face seemed changed, the heavy fleshiness -of the ranchero had given place to the refinement -and keenness of the cavalier. The bushy brows were unbent, -there was intelligence and vivacity in his dark eyes, -a half-mocking, half-anxious smile upon his lips, which utterly -changed the dull and ignorant expression, and of the -same flesh and blood made an absolutely new creation.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was not curiosity that lighted the eyes as they glanced -lingeringly around, scanning the low chairs and tables scattered -through the corridor, resting upon the rose-entwined -columns that supported it, and then upon the fountain in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>the centre of the court, which threw a slender column -in the moonlight, and fell like a thousand gems into the -basin which overflowed and refreshed a vast variety of -flowering shrubs that encircled it. It was rather a look -of pleased recognition, followed by a sarcastic smile, as -if he scorned a paradise so peaceful. There was indeed -in every movement of his well-knit figure, in the clutch of -his small but sinewy hand upon the door, something that -indicated that the saddle and sword were more fitting to -his robust physique and fiery nature than the delights of -a lady’s bower.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Nevertheless, he was about to enter, and had indeed -made a hasty movement toward the staircase that led to -the upper rooms, when an unexpected sound arrested him. -Planillos drew back into the shadow and listened eagerly, -scarce crediting the evidence of his senses; gradually he -fell upon his knees, covering himself with his dingy blanket, -transforming himself into a dull clod of humanity, which -under cover of the black shadows would escape observation -except of the most jealous and critical eye. Yet this -apparent clod was for the time all eyes and ears. Presently -the sound he had heard, a light tap on the outer door, -was repeated; a shrill call like that of a wild bird—doubtless -a pre-arranged signal—sounded, and in intense -astonishment he waited breathlessly for what should -further happen.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Evidently the gate-keeper was not unprepared, for the -first wild note caused him to raise his head sleepily, and -at the second he staggered from his alcove, muttering an -imprecation, and fumbling in his girdle for the key of the -postern. He glanced around warily, even going softly to -places where the shadows fell most darkly; but finding no -one, returned, and with deft fingers proceeded to push -back noiselessly the bolts of the small door set in a panel -of the massive one which closed the wide entrance. It -creaked slowly upon its hinges, so lightly that even a bird -would not have stirred in its slumbers, and a man cautiously -entered. He had spurs upon his heels, and after -effecting his entrance stooped to remove them, and Planillos -had time and opportunity to see that he was not -one of Pedro Gomez’s associates,—not one of the common -people.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>The midnight visitor was tall and slender, the latter -though, it would seem, from the incomplete development -of youth, rather than from delicacy of race. The long -white hand that unbuckled his spurs was supple and large; -his whole frame was modelled in more generous proportions -than are usually seen in the descendants of the Aztecs or -their conquerors.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ingles,” thought Planillos, using a term which is -indiscriminately applied to English or Americans. “A -man I dare vow it would be hard to deal with in fair -fight!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But evidently the Englishman, or American, was not -there with any idea of contest; a pistol gleamed in his -belt, but its absence would have been more noticeable -than its presence,—it was worn as a matter of course. -For so young a man, in that country where every cavalier -native or foreign affected an abundance of ornament, his -dress was singularly plain,—black throughout, even to -the wide hat that shaded his face, the youthful bloom of -which was heightened rather than injured by the superficial -bronze imparted by a tropical sun.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Planillos had time to observe all this. Evidently the -late-comer knew his ground, and had but little fear of -discovery. “A bold fellow,” thought the watcher, “and -fair indeed should be the Dulcinea for whom he ventures -so much. It must be the niece of Don Rafael, or perhaps -the governess—did I hear she was young?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But further speculation was arrested by the movements -of the stranger, who, after a moment’s parley with Pedro, -came noiselessly but directly toward the door near which -Planillos was lying.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Once within it, he paused to listen. Planillos expected -him to make some signal, and to see him joined by a -veiled figure in the corridor, but to his unbounded amazement -and rage the intruder passed swiftly by the fountain, -under the great trees of bitter-scented oleanders and cloying -jasmine, and sprang lightly up the steps leading to the -private apartments. His foot was on the corridor, when -Planillos, light as a cat, leaped up the steep stair. His -head had just reached the level of the floor above, when -with an absolute fury of rage he caught the glimpse of a -fair young face in the moonlight, and beheld the American -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>in the embrace of a beautiful girl. Instinct, rather than -recognition, revealed to his initiated mind the young -heiress, Herlinda Garcia. Absolutely paralyzed by astonishment -and rage, for one moment dumb, almost blinded, -in the next he saw the closing of a heavy door divide from -his sight the lovers whom he was too late to separate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Too late? No! one blow from his dagger upon that -closed door, one cry throughout the sleeping house and -the life of the man who had stolen within would not be -worth a moment’s purchase! It required all his strength -of will, a full realization of his own position, to prevent -Planillos from shouting aloud, from rushing to the door -of Doña Isabel, to beat upon it and cry, “Up! up! look -to your daughter! See if there be any shame like hers! -see how your own child tramples upon the honor of which -you have so proudly boasted!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But he restrained himself, panting like a wild animal -mad with excitement. The thought of a more perfect, a -more personal revenge leaped into his mind, and silenced -the cry that rose to his lips,—held him from rushing -down to plunge his dagger into the heart of the false doorkeeper, -completely obliterated even the remembrance of the -purpose for which he had ventured into a place deemed -so sacred, so secure! and sustained him through the -long hour of waiting, the horrible intentness of his purpose -each moment growing more fixed, more definitely -pitiless.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For some time he stood rooted to the spot upon which -he had made the discovery which had so maddened him, -but at last he crouched in the shadow at the foot of the -staircase; and scarcely had he done so, when the man -for whom he waited appeared at the top. He saw him -wave his hand, he even caught his whispered words, so -acute were his senses: “Never fear, my Herlinda, all will -be well. I will protect you, my love! In another week -at most all this will be at an end. I shall be free to come -and go as I will!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Free as air!” thought the man lying in the shadow, -with grim humor, even as he grasped his dagger. Crouching -beneath his blanket he had drawn from his brows the -red kerchief. The veins stood black and swollen upon his -temples as the foreigner, waving a last farewell, descended -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>the stairs. He passed with drooping head, breathing at -the moment a deep sigh, within a hand’s breadth of an -incarnate fiend.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ah, devoted youth! had thy guardian angel veiled her -face that night? Oh, if but at the last moment thy light -foot would wake the echoes and rouse the sleepers, already -muttering in their dreams, as if conscious that the -dawn was near. But nothing happened; the whole world -seemed wrapped in oblivion as he bent over the gate-keeper, -and with some familiar touch aroused him. He -stooped to put on his spurs, as Pedro opened the postern, -and instantly stepped forth, while the gate-keeper -proceeded to replace the fastenings. But as the man -turned nervously, with the sensation of an unexpected -presence near him, he was absolutely paralyzed with dismay. -A livid face, in which were set eyes of lurid blackness, -looked down upon him with satanic rage. The bulk -that towered over him seemed colossal. “Mercy! mercy!” -he ejaculated. “By all the saints I swear—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let me pass!” hissed Planillos in a voice scarce above -a whisper, but which in its intensity sounded in the ears -of Pedro like thunder. “Villain, let me pass!” and he -cast from him the terrified gate-keeper as though he were -a child, and rushed out upon the sandy slope which lay -between the great house and the village. He was not a -moment too soon. In the dim light he caught sight -of the lithe figure of the foreigner, as he passed rapidly -over the rough ground skirting the village, the better -to escape the notice of the dogs, which, tired with baying -the moon, had at last sunk to uneasy slumbers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Planillos looked toward the moon, and cursed its rapid -waning. The light grew so faint he could scarce keep -the young man in sight, as he approached a tree where a -dark horse was tied, which neighed as he drew near. -Planillos clutched his dagger closer; would the pursued -spring into his saddle, and thus escape, at least for that -night? On the contrary, he lingered, leaning against his -horse, his eyes fixed on the white walls of the house he -had left. All unconscious of danger, he stood in the full -strength of manhood, with the serene influences of -Nature around him, his mind so rapt and tranced that -even had his pursuer taken no precaution in making his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>approach from shrub to shrub, concealing his person as -much as possible, he would probably have reached his victim -unnoticed. Within call slept scores of fellow-men; behind -him, scarce half a mile away, rose the walls and chimneys -of his whilom home; not ten minutes before he had -said, “I shall be as safe on the road as in your arms, my -love!” He was absolutely unconscious of his surroundings, -lost in a blissful reverie, when with irresistible force -he was hurled to the ground; a frightful blow fell upon -his side,—the heavens grew dark above him. Conscious, -yet dumb, he staggered to his feet, only to be again precipitated -to the earth; the dagger that at the moment of -attack had been thrust into his bosom, was buried to the -hilt; the blood gushed forth, and with a deep groan he -expired.</p> - -<p class='c001'>All was over in a few moments of time. John Ashley’s -soul, with all its sins, had been hurled into the presence of -its Judge. The self-appointed avenger staggered, gasping, -against the tree; an almost superhuman effort had brought -a terrible exhaustion. Every muscle and nerve quivered; -he could scarcely stand. Yet thrusting from him with his -foot the dead body, he thirsted still for blood. “If I -could but return and kill that villain Pedro,” he hissed; -“if his accursed soul could but follow to purgatory this -one I have already sent! But, bah! a later day will answer -for the dog! Ah, I am so spent a child might hold me; -but,” looking toward the mountains, “this horse is fresh -and fleet. I shall be safe enough when the first beam of -the morning sun touches your lover’s lips, Herlinda.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The assassin glanced from his victim toward the house -he had left, with a muttered imprecation; then, trembling -still from his tremendous exertions, he approached the -steed, which, unable to break the lariat by which it had -been fastened, was straining and plunging, half-maddened, -after the confusion of the struggle, by the smell of blood -already rising on the air.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Planillos possessed that wonderfully magnetic power -over the brute creation which is as potent as it is rare, -and which on this occasion within a few moments completely -dominated and calmed the fright and fury of the -powerful animal, which he presently mounted, and which—though -man and horse shook with the violence of excitement -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>and conflict—he managed with the ease that -denoted constant practice and superb horsemanship. With -a last glance at the murdered man, whom the darkness -that precedes the dawn scarce allowed him to distinguish -from the shrubs around, he put spurs to the restive steed, -and galloped rapidly away.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span> - <h2 class='c007'>III.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>It is not to be supposed that this bloody deed occurred -entirely unsuspected. Pedro, the gate-keeper, lay -half-stunned upon the stones where he had been cast by -the man who called himself Planillos, and listened with -strained ears to every sound. No indication of a struggle -reached him, but his horrified imagination formed innumerable -pictures of treacherous violence, in which one or -the other of the men who had left him figured as the victim. -He dared give no alarm; indeed, at first he was so -unnerved by terror that he could neither stir nor speak. -At length, after what appeared to him hours but was in -reality only a few minutes, he heard the shrill neigh of the -horse and the sound of rearing and plunging, followed by -the dull thud of retreating footsteps and shrill whistles in -challenge and answer from the watchmen upon the hacienda -roof, who, however, took no further steps toward investigating -what they supposed to be a drunken brawl -which had taken place, almost out of hearing and quite -out of sight, and which therefore, as they conceived, -could in no wise endanger the safety or peace of the -hacienda.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Their signals, however, served to arouse Pedro, who -shaking in every limb, his brain reeling, his heart bursting -with apprehension, crawled to the postern, and after many -abortive efforts managed to secure the bolts. He then -staggered to the alcove in which he slept, and searching -beneath the sheepskin mat which served for his bed, found -a small flask of <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">aguardiente</span></i>, and taking a deep draught -of the fiery liquor, little by little recovered his outward -composure.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For that night, however, sleep no more visited his eyes; -and he spent the hour before dawn in making to himself -wild excuses for his treason, in wilder projects for flight, -and in mentally recapitulating his sins and preparing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>himself for death; so it can readily be imagined that it -was a haggard and distraught countenance that he thrust -forth from the postern at dawn, when with the first streak -of light came a crowd of excited villagers to the gate, to -beat upon it wildly, and with hoarse groans and cries to -announce that Don Juan had been found murdered under -a mesquite tree.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Impossible! Ye are mad! Anselmo, thou art drunk, -raving!” stammered forth the gate-keeper. “Don Juan is -is at the reduction-works!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thou liest!” cried an excited villager; “he is in -purgatory. God help him! Holy angels and all saints -pray for him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ave Maria! Mother of Sorrows, by the five wounds -of thy Son, intercede for him!” cried a chorus of women, -wringing their hands and gesticulating distractedly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Open the gate, Pedro!” demanded the throng without, -by this time almost equalled by that within, through -which the administrador, Don Rafael Sanchez, was seen -forcing his way, holding high the great keys of the main -door. He was a small man, with a pale but determined -face, before whom the crowd fell back, ceasing for a moment -their incoherent lamentations, while he assisted Pedro -to unlock and throw open the doors.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Good heavens, man, are you mad?” he exclaimed, as -Pedro darted from his side and rushed toward the group -of rancheros, who, bearing between them a recumbent -form, were slowly approaching the hacienda. “Ah! ah, -that is right,” as he saw that Pedro, with imperative gestures -and a few expressive words, had induced the bearers -to turn and proceed with the body toward the reduction-works; -“better there than here. What could have induced -him to roam about at night? I have told him a -score of times his foolhardiness would be the death of -him;” and with these and similar ejaculations Don Rafael -hastened to join the throng which were soon pouring into -the gates of the reduction-works.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile from within the great house came the cries -of women, above which rose one piercing shriek; but few -were there to hear it, for in wild excitement men, women, -and children followed the corpse across the valley and -thronged the gates of the works which were closed in their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>faces, or surrounded with gaping looks, wild gesticulations, -and meaningless inquiries, the tree beneath which -the murdered man had been found, thus completely obliterating -the signs of the struggle and flight of the murderer -even while most eagerly seeking them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>John Ashley had been an alien and a heretic. No longer -ago than yesterday there had been many a lip to murmur -at his foreign ways. In all the history of the mining -works never had there been known a master so exacting -with the laborer, so rigorous with the dishonest, so harsh -with the careless; yet he had been withal as generous and -just as he was severe. The people had been ready to murmur, -yet in their secret hearts they had respected and -even loved the young <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Americano</span></i>, who knew how to govern -them, and to gain from them a fair amount of work for a -fair and promptly paid wage; and who, from a half ruinous, -ill-managed source of vexation and loss, was surely -but slowly evolving order and the promise of prosperity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The bearers and the crowd of laborers belonging to the -reduction-works were admitted with their burden, and as -they passed into the large and scantily-furnished room -which John Ashley had called his own, they reverently -pulled off their wide, ragged straw hats, and many a lip -moved in prayer as the people, for a moment awed into -silence, crowded around to view the corpse, which had -been laid upon a low narrow bed with the striped blanket -of a laborer thrown over it. As the coarse covering was -thrown back, a woful sight was seen. The form of a man -scarce past boyhood, drenched from breast to feet in blood, -yet still beautiful in its perfect symmetry. The tall lithe -figure, the straight features, the downy beard shading -cheeks and lips of adolescent softness, the long lashes of -the eyelids now closed forever, and the fair curls resting -upon the marble brow, all showed how comely he had -been. The women burst into fresh lamentations, the men -muttered threats of vengeance. But who was the murderer? -Ay, there was the mystery.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“He has a mother far off across the sea,” said a -woman, brokenly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay, and sisters,” added another; “he bade us remember -them when we drank to his health on his saint’s day. -‘In my country we keep birthdays,’ he said (I suppose, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>poor gentleman, he meant the saints had never learned his -barbarous tongue); and then he laughed. ‘But saint’s day -or birthday, it is all the same; I’m twenty-three to-day.’”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, ’twas twenty-three he said,” confirmed another; -“and do you remember how he reddened and laughed -when I told him he was old enough to think of wedding?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But vexed enough,” added another, “when I repeated -our old proverb, ‘Who goes far to marry, goes to deceive -or be deceived.’ I meant no ill, but he turned on me like -a hornet. But, poor young fellow, all his quick tempers -are over now; he’ll be quiet enough till the Judgment day—cursed -be the hand that struck him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Come, come!” suddenly broke in Don Rafael, “no -more of this chatter; clear the room for the Señor -Alcalde,” and with much important bustle and portentous -gravity the official in question entered. He had in fact -been one of the first to hasten to the scene of the murder, -for the time forgetting the dignity of his position, of which -in his ragged <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">frazada</span></i>, his battered straw hat, and unkempt -locks, there was little to remind either himself or -his fellow villagers. However, on the alcalde being called -for, he immediately dropped his <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</span></i> of idle gazer, and -proceeded with the most stately formality to the reduction-works. -After viewing the dead body, he made most -copious notes of the supposed manner of assassination, -which were chiefly remarkable in differing entirely from the -reality; and he gave profuse orders for the following of -the murderer or murderers, delivering at the same time to -Don Rafael Sanchez the effects of the deceased, for safe -keeping and ultimate transmission to the relatives, meanwhile -delivering himself of many sapient remarks, to the -great edification of his hearers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It appeared upon examination of various persons connected -with the reduction-works that the young American -had been in the habit of riding forth at night, sometimes -attended by a servant, but often alone, spending hours of -the beautiful moonlight in exploring the deep cañons of -the mountains, having, seemingly, a peculiar love for -their wild solitudes and an utter disregard of danger. -More than once when he had ventured forth alone, the -gate-keeper or clerk had remonstrated, but he had laughed -at their fears; and in fact it was the mere habit of caution -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>that had suggested them, the whole country being at -that time remarkably free from marauders, and the idea -that John Ashley—almost a stranger, so courteous, so -well liked by inferiors, as well as by those who called themselves -his equals or superiors—should have a personal -enemy had never entered the mind of even the most suspicious. -But for once the cowards were justified; the -brave man had fallen, the days of his young and daring -life were ended.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The alcalde and Don Rafael were eloquent in grave -encomiums of his worth and regret for his folly, as they -at last left the reduction-works together. They had -agreed that a letter must be written to the American consul -in the city of Mexico, with full particulars, and that he -should be asked to communicate the sad event to the family -of the deceased; but as several days, or even weeks, must -necessarily elapse before he could be heard from, it was -decided that the murdered man should be buried upon the -following day. To wait longer was both useless and unusual. -And so, these matters being satisfactorily arranged, -the alcalde and administrador, both perhaps ready for -breakfast, parted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The latter at the gate of the hacienda met the major-domo, -who whispered to him mysteriously, and finally led -him to the courtyard, where the forsaken mule was munching -his fodder. A pair of sandals lay there. Pedro, had -he wished, could have shown a striped blanket and hat -that he had picked up near the gateway and concealed; -but the mule and sandals were patent to all.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Well, what then?” cried Don Rafael, impatiently, -when he had minutely inspected them, turning the sandals -with his foot as he stared at the animal.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh, nothing,” answered the major-domo; “I am -perhaps a fool, but the ranchero is gone.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael started—fell into a deep study—turned -away—came back, and laid his hand upon the major-domo’s -arm. This was the first suggestion that had -been advanced of the possibility of the murderer having -sought his victim from within the walls of the great house. -“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Silencio!</span></i>” he said; “what matters it to us how the -man died? There is more in this than behooves you or -me to meddle with.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>The two men looked at each other. “Why disturb the -Señora Doña Isabel with such matters? The American is -dead. The ranchero can be nothing to her,” said Don -Rafael, sententiously. “He who gives testimony unasked -brings suspicion upon himself. No, no! leave the matter -to his countrymen; they have a consul here who has nothing -to do but inquire into such matters.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“True, true! and one might as well hope to find again -the wildbird escaped from its cage, as to see that Juan -Planillos! God save us! if he was indeed the true Juan -Planillos!” and the mystified major-domo actually turned -pale at the thought. “They say he is more devil than man; -that would explain how he got out of the hacienda, for Pedro -Gomez swears he let no man pass, either out or in.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael had his own private opinion about that, and -of whom the disguised visitor might be. Yet why should -he have attacked the American? Had Ashley too been -within the walls,—and for what purpose? These questions -were full of deep and startling import, and again impressing -upon his subordinate that endless trouble might be -avoided by a discreet silence, he walked thoughtfully away, -those vague suspicions and conjectures taking definite shape -in his mind. He went to the gate with some design of -warily questioning Pedro, but the man was not there; for -once, friend or foe might go in or out unnoticed. But it was -a day of disorder, and Don Rafael could readily divine the -excuse for the gate-keeper’s neglect of duty. Remembering -that he had not broken his fast that day, he went to -his own rooms for the morning chocolate; and from thence -he presently saw Pedro emerge from the opposite court, -and with bowed head and reluctant steps repair to his -wonted post. Don Rafael Sanchez knew his countrymen, -especially those of the lower class, too well to hasten to -him and ply him with inquiries as he longed to do. He -knew too well the value of patience, and more than once -had found it golden. Rita, his young wife, had come to -him, and through her tears and ejaculations was relating -the account of the murder the servants had brought to her, -which was as wild and improbable as the reality had been, -though not more ghastly, when a servant entered with a -hasty message from Doña Isabel.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span> - <h2 class='c007'>IV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>While the discovery of the murder had caused this wild -excitement outside the walls of the hacienda, a far different -scene was being enacted within. Mademoiselle La Croix, -the governess of the two sisters Herlinda and Carmen -Garcia, had arisen early, leaving her youngest charge -asleep, and, hurriedly donning her dressing-gown, hastened -to the adjoining apartment, where Herlinda was enjoying -that deep sleep which comes to young and healthy -natures with the dawn, rounding and completing the hours -of perfect rest, which youthful activity both of body and -mind so imperatively demands.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A beautiful girl, between fifteen and sixteen, in her perfect -development of figure, as well as in the pure olive -tints of her complexion, revealing her Castilian descent,—Herlinda -Garcia lay upon the white pillows shaded by a -canopy of lace, one arm thrown above her head, the other, -bare to the elbow, thrown across a bosom that rose and -fell with each breath she drew, with the regularity of perfect -content. Yet she opened her eyes with a start, and -uttered an exclamation of alarm, as Mademoiselle La -Croix lightly touched her, saying half petulantly, as she -turned away, “Oh, Mademoiselle, why have you wakened -me? I was so happy just then! I was dreaming of -John!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She spoke the English name with an indescribable -accent of tenderness, but Mademoiselle La Croix repeated -it after her almost sharply.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“John! yes,” she said, “it is no wonder he is always -in your thoughts; as for me, Heaven knows what will -happen to me! I am sure, had I known—” and the -Frenchwoman paused, to wipe a tear from her eye.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, yes, it was thoughtless, cruel of us!” interrupted -Herlinda, penitently, yet scarcely able to repress a smile -as her glance fell upon the gayly flowered dressing-gown -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>which formed an incongruous wrapping for the thin, bony -figure of the governess; “but, dear Mademoiselle, nothing -worse than a dismissal can happen to you, and you know -John has promised—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The governess drew herself up with portentous dignity. -“Mademoiselle wanders from the point,” she interrupted; -“it is of herself only I was thinking. This state of -affairs must be brought to a close,” she added solemnly, -after a pause. “At all risks, Herlinda, John must claim -you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“So he knows, so I tell him,” answered Herlinda, suddenly -wide awake, and ceasing the pretty yawns and -stretchings with which she had endeavored to banish her -drowsiness. “Oh, Mademoiselle,” a shade of apprehension -passing over her face, “I have done wrong, very -wrong. My mother will never forgive me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Absurd!” ejaculated the governess. “Doña Isabel, -like every one else in the world, must submit to the -inevitable.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“So John said; but, Mademoiselle, neither you nor -John know my mother, nor my people. She will never -forgive: in her place, I would never forgive!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And yet you dared!” cried Mademoiselle La Croix, -looking at the young girl with new admiration at the courage -which stimulated her own. “Truly, you Mexicans -are a strange people, so generous in many things, so blind -and obstinate in others. Well, well! you shall find, -Herlinda, I too can be brave. If I were a coward, I should -say, wait until I am safely away; but I am no coward,” -added the little woman, drawing her figure to its full -height and expanding her nostrils,—“I am ready to face -the storm with you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, yes!” said the young girl, hurriedly and abstractedly. -“What,” she added, rising in her bed, and -grasping the bronze pillar at the head, “what is that I -hear? What a confusion of voices!” She turned deadly -pale, and her white-robed figure shook beneath the long -loose tresses of her coal-black hair. “My God! Mademoiselle, -I hear his name!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The governess too grew pale, though she began incoherently -to reassure the young lady, who remained -kneeling in the bed as if petrified, her hands clasped to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>her breast, her eyes strained, listening intently, as through -the thick walls came the dull murmur of many voices. Like -waves they seemed to surge and beat against the solid -stones, and the vague roar forced itself into the words, -“Don Juan! Ashley!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Although a moment’s reflection would have reminded -her that a hundred other events, rather than that of his -death, might have brought the people there to call upon -the name of their master, one of those flashes of intuition -which appear magnetic revealed to Herlinda the awful -truth, even before it was borne to her outward ear by the -shrill voice of a woman, crying through the corridor, -“God of my life! Don Juan is killed! murdered! murdered!” -She even stopped to knock upon the door and -reiterate the words, in the half-horrified, half-pleasurable -excitement the vulgar often feel in communicating -dreadful and unexpected news; but a wild shriek from -within suddenly checked her outcry, and chilled her -blood.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Fool that I am! I should have remembered,” she -muttered. “Paqua told me there was certainly love -between those two; she saw the glance he threw on the -young Señorita in church one day. But that was months -ago, and she certainly is to marry Don Vicente.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>At that moment a middle-aged, plainly-dressed woman, -with the blue and white reboso so commonly worn thrown -over her head, entered the corridor. Her figure was so -commanding, the glance of her eyes so impressive, that -even in her haste she lost none of her habitual dignity. -The woman turned away, glad to escape with the reproof, -“Cease your clamor, Refugio! What! is your news so -pressing that you must needs frighten your young mistress -with it? Go, go! Doña Isabel will be little likely to be -pleased with your zeal.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The woman hastened away, and Doña Feliz, waiting -until she had disappeared, laid her hand upon the door of -Herlinda’s chamber, which like those of many sleeping -apartments in the house opened directly upon the upper -corridor, its massive thickness and strength being looked -upon as more than sufficient to repel any danger which -could in the wildest probability reach it from the well -guarded interior of the fort-like building.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>As Doña Feliz touched the latch, the door was opened -by the affrighted governess, who had anticipated the entrance -of Doña Isabel. The respite unnerved her, and she -threw herself half fainting in a chair, as Herlinda seized -the new-comer by the shoulders, gasping forth, “Feliz, -Feliz, tell me! tell me it is not true! He is not dead! -dead! dead!” her voice rising to a shriek.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hush! hush, Herlinda! O God, my child, what can -this be to thee?” Doña Feliz shuddered as she spoke. -She glanced at the closed window; the walls she knew -to be a yard in thickness, yet she wished them double, lest -a sound of these wild ravings should escape.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Feliz, you dare not tell me!—then it is true! he is -murdered! lost, lost to me forever!” The young girl slipped -like water through the arms that would have clasped her, -crouching upon the floor, wringing her hands, tearless, -voiceless, after her last despairing words. Feliz attempted -to raise her, but in vain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Carmen, aroused by the sounds of distress, appeared in -the doorway which connected the two rooms. “Back! -go back!” cried Doña Feliz, and the child frightened and -whimpering, withdrew. Feliz turned to the governess,—the -deep dejection of her attitude struck her; and at that -moment Doña Isabel appeared.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Herlinda,” she began, “this is sad news; but remember—” -she paused, looked with stern disapprobation, -then her superb self-possession giving way, she rushed to -her daughter and clasped her arm. “Rise! rise!” she -cried; “this excess of emotion shames you and me. This -is folly. Rise, I say! He could never have been anything, -child, to thee!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda did not move, she did not even look up. -She had always feared her mother; had trembled at -her slightest word of blame; had been like wax under -her hand. Yet now she was as marble; her hands had -dropped on her lap; she was rigid to the touch; only -the deep moans that burst from her white lips proved -that she lived.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The attitude was expressive of such utter despair that -it was of itself a revelation; and presently the moans -formed themselves into words: “My God! my God! I -am undone! he is dead! he is dead!”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>The words bore a terrible significance to the listeners. -Doña Isabel turned her eyes upon Feliz, and read upon -her face the thought that had forced its way to her own -mind. Her face paled; she dropped her daughter’s arm -and drew back. The act itself was an accusation. Perhaps -the girl felt it so. She suddenly wrung her hands -distractedly, and sprang to her feet, exclaiming, “My husband! -my husband! Let me go to him! he cannot be -dead! he is not dead!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The words “My husband” fell like a thunderbolt among -them. Herlinda had rushed to the door, but Doña Feliz -caught her in her strong arms, and forced her back. “Tell -us what you mean!” she ejaculated; while the frightened -governess plucked her by the sleeve, reiterating again and -again, “Pardon! pardon! entreat your mother’s pardon!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the terrible turn affairs had taken had driven the -thought of pardon, or the need of it, from her mind. “I -tell you I am his wife! Ah, you think that cannot be, but -it is true; the Irish priest married us four months ago in -Las Parras. Let me go, Feliz, let me go! I am his wife!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“This is madness!” interrupted Doña Isabel, in a -voice of such preternatural calmness that her daughter -turned as if awestricken to look at her. “Unhappy girl, -you cannot have been that man’s wife. You have been -betrayed! Child! child! the house of Garcia is disgraced!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>A chill fell upon the governess, yet she spoke sharply, -almost pertly: “Not disgraced by Herlinda, Madame. -She was indeed married to John Ashley, in the parish -church of Las Parras, by the missionary priest, Father -Magauley.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The long, slow glance of incredulity changing into -deepest scorn which Doña Isabel turned upon the governess -seemed to scorch, to wither her. She actually -cowered beneath it, faltering forth entreaties for pardon, -rather, be it said to her honor, for the unhappy Herlinda -than for herself. Meanwhile, with lightning rapidity, the -events of the last few months passed through the mind of -Doña Isabel. Yes, yes, it had been possible; there had -been opportunity for this base work. Her eyes clouded, -her breast heaved; had she held a weapon in her hand, -the intense passion that possessed her might have sought -a method more powerful than words in finding for itself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>expression. As it was, she turned away, sick at heart, -her brain afire. Doña Feliz had placed a strong, firm -hand over Herlinda’s lips. “It is useless,” she said in a -voice like Fate. “You will never see him again.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda comprehended that those words but expressed -the unspoken fiat of her mother. She shuddered and -groaned. “Mother! mother!” she said faintly, “he -loved me. I loved him so, mother! Mother, I have -spoken the truth; Mademoiselle will tell you all; I was -indeed his wife.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel would not trust herself to look at her -daughter. She dared not, so strong at that moment was -her resentment of her daring, so deep the shame of its -consequences. “Vile woman!” she said to the governess, -in low, penetrating tones of concentrated passion; “you -who have avowed yourself the accomplice of yon dead -villain, tell me all. Let me know whether you were simply -treacherously ignorant, or treacherously base. Silence, -Herlinda! nor dare in my presence shed one tear for the -wretch who betrayed you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But her commands were unheeded. The present anguish -overcame the habits and fears of a whole life,—as, -alas! a passionate love had once before done. But then she -had been under the domination of her lover, and had been -separated from the mother, whose very shadow would -have deterred and prevented her. Now, even the deep severity -of that mother’s voice fell on unheeding ears. Though -tears came not, piteous groans, mingled with the name of -her love, burst from the heart of the wretched girl, who -leaned like a broken lily upon the breast of Doña Feliz, who -from the moment that Herlinda had declared herself a -wife gazed upon her with looks of deep compassion, alternating -with those of anxious curiosity toward Doña Isabel, -whose every glance she had learned to interpret. -She was a woman of great intelligence, yet it appeared to -her as though Doña Isabel, who was queen and absolute -mistress on her own domain, had but to speak the word -and set her daughter in any position she might claim. -The supremacy of the Garcias was her creed,—that by -which she had lived; was it to be contradicted now?</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tell me all,” reiterated Doña Isabel, in the concentrated -voice of deep and terrible passion, as the cowering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>governess vainly strove to frame words that might least -offend. “How did this treachery occur? Where and -how did you give that fellow opportunity to compass his -base designs?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda started; she would have spoken, but Doña -Feliz restrained her by the strong pressure of her arm; -and the faltering voice of the governess attempted some -explanation and justification of an event, which, almost -unparalleled in Mexico, could not have been foreseen perhaps -even by the jealous care of the most anxious mother.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“This is all I have to tell,” she stammered. “You -remember you sent us to Las Parras six months ago, just -after you had refused your daughter’s hand to John Ashley, -and promised it to Vicente Gonzales. We remained -there in exile nearly two months. Herlinda was wretched. -What was there to console or enliven her in that miserable -village? Separated from her sister, from you, Madame, -whom she deeply loved even while she feared, what had -she to do but nurse her grief and despair, which grew daily -stronger on the food of tears and solitude? At first she -was too proud to speak to me of that which caused her -sleepless nights and unhappy days. But my looks must -have expressed the pity I felt. She threw herself into my -arms one day, and sobbed out her sad tale upon my -bosom. She had spoken to this Ashley but a few times, -and then in your presence, Madame; but in your country -the eye seems the messenger of love. She declared that -she could not live, she would not, were she separated from -John Ashley; that the day of her marriage with Vicente -Gonzales should be the day of her death.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“To the point,” interrupted Doña Isabel in an icy tone. -“I had heard all this. Even in John Ashley’s very -presence Herlinda had forgotten her dignity and mine. -This is not what I would know.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But it leads to it, Madame,” cried the governess, -deprecatingly, “for while I was in the state of mingled -pity and perplexity caused by Herlinda’s words, a message -was brought to me that John Ashley was at the door. I -went to speak to him. Yielding to his entreaties, I even -allowed him to see Herlinda. How could I guess it was -to urge a course which only the most remarkable combination -of events could have made possible?”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>“Intrigante,” muttered Doña Isabel, bitterly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You,” continued the governess, piqued and emboldened -by the adjective, “angered by the sight of him as you -passed the reduction-works, had yourself invented a pretext -for sending him to San Marcos. You could not well -dismiss him altogether from a position he filled so well. -He might, you thought, reveal the reason.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Deal not with my motives,” interrupted the lady -haughtily. “It is true I sent him to San Marcos. And -what then?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Then, by chance, he learned what here no servant -had dared to tell him,—the name of the village to which -Herlinda had been sent, so near your own hacienda, too, -that he had never once suspected it. And there he met -a countryman. These English, Irish, Americans,—they -are all bound together by a common language; and he, -this poor priest, entirely ignorant of Spanish, coldly received -even by his clerical brethren, was glad to spend a -few days in a trip with Ashley; and as they rode together -over the thirty leagues of mountain and valley between -San Marcos and Las Parras, he formed a great liking for -the pleasant youth, and beyond gently rallying him, made -no opposition to staying over a night in the village, and -joining him in holy matrimony to the woman of his choice, -whom he imagined to be a poor but pretty peasant, so -modest were our surroundings.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel’s face darkened. “Hasten! hasten!” she -muttered. “I see it all; deluded, unhappy girl.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Unhappy, yes!” cried the governess. “Prophetic -were the tears that coursed over her cheeks, as she went -with me to the chapel in the early morning, and there in -the presence of a few peasants who had never seen her -before, or failed to recognize her under the dingy reboso -she wore, was married to the young American.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ignorant imbeciles!” ejaculated Doña Isabel, but so low -that no one distinctly caught her words. “And this <em>marriage</em> -as you call it, in what language was it performed?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh, in English,” answered Mademoiselle La Croix, -readily. “The priest knew no other. Immediately after -the ceremony the bell sounded, the groom and bride separated, -the people streamed in, and Holy Mass was celebrated, -thus consecrating the marriage. Reassure yourself, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>Doña Isabel, all was right; the good priest gave a certificate -in due form, which doubtless will be found among -John Ashley’s papers.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>In spite of the stony yet furious gaze with which Doña -Isabel had listened to these particulars, the governess had -gathered confidence as she proceeded, and ended with a -feeling that the most jealous doubter must be convinced, -the most inveterate opponent silenced.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But far otherwise was the effect of her narrative upon -Doña Isabel; she had been deceived by her own daughter, -befooled by her hirelings. Her keen intelligence declared -to her at once the fatal irregularity of the ceremony. It -indeed vindicated the purity of Herlinda, but could it save -her from dishonor? Thoughts of vague yet terrible meaning -tormented her. The horrors of a past day returned -with fresh complications to menace and torture her; and -even had it been possible at that moment for her by one -word to prove her daughter the honorable widow of John -Ashley, it would have caused her a thousand pangs to have -uttered it; and could one single word have brought him to -life, she would have condemned herself to perpetual dumbness. -A frenzy of shame and baffled intents possessed her. -But her thoughts were not of these. She knew that this marriage -as it stood was void; it met the requirements of neither -Church nor State. Yet—yet—yet—there were possibilities: -her family were powerful, her wealth was great.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz watched her with deep, inquiring eyes. Her -child stood there, a voiceless pleader, her utter abandonment -of grief appealing to the heart of the mother; but -between them was an impregnable wall of pride and a -cloud of possibilities which confused and distracted her. -She came to no determination, made no resolve, but clasping -her hands over her eyes, stood as if a gulf had opened -in her path,—from which she could not turn, and over -which she dared not pass. Slowly, at last, she dropped -her arms, resumed her usual aspect of composure, and -passed from the room. For some moments the little -group she had left remained motionless. A profound stillness -reigned throughout the house. Time itself seemed -arrested, and the one word breathed through the silence -seemed to describe the whole world to those within the -walls,—“dead! dead! dead!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span> - <h2 class='c007'>V.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>As Doña Isabel Garcia turned from her daughter’s -apartment, she stepped into a corridor flooded with the -dazzling sunshine of a perfect morning, and as she passed -on in her long black dress, the heavily beamed roof interposing -between her uncovered head and the clear and -shining blue of the sky, there was something almost terrible -in the stony gaze with which she met the glance -of the woman-servant who hurried after her to know if -she would as usual break her fast in the little arbor near -the fountain. It terrified the woman, who drew back with -a muttered “Pardon, Señora!” as the lady swept by -her, and entered her own chamber.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The volcano of feeling which surged within her burst -forth, not in sobs and cries, not in passionate interjections, -but in the tones of absolute horror in which she -uttered the two names that had severally been to her -the dearest upon earth,—“Leon!” and “Herlinda!” -and which at that moment were equally synonymous -of all most terrible, most dreaded, and were the most -powerful factors amid the love, the honor, the pride, the -passions and prejudices which controlled her being.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For a time she stood in the centre of her apartment, -striking unconsciously with her clenched hand upon her -breast blows that at another time would have been keenly -felt, but the swelling emotions within rendered her insensible -to mere bodily pain. Indeed, as the moments -passed it brought a certain relief; and as her walking to -and fro brought her at last in front of the window which -opened upon the broad prospect to the west, she paused, -and looked long and fixedly toward the reduction-works, -as if her vision could penetrate the stone walls, and read -the mind which had perished with the man who lay murdered -within them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As she stood thus, she presently became aware that a -sound which she had heard without heeding,—as one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>ignores passing vibrations upon the air, that bring no -special echo of the life of which we are active, conscious -parts,—was persistently striving to make itself heard; -and with an effort she turned to the door, upon which fell -another timid knock, and bade the suppliant enter; for -the very echo of his knocking proclaimed a suppliant. -She started as her eyes fell upon the haggard face of -Pedro the gate-keeper.</p> - -<p class='c001'>He entered almost stealthily, closing the door softly -behind him. “Señora,” he whispered, coming up to her -quite closely, extending his hands in a deprecating way, -“Señora, by the golden keys of my patron, I swear to -you I was powerless. Don Juan told me he had your -Grace’s own authority; he told me they were married!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel started. In the same sentence the man -had so skilfully mingled truth and falsehood that even -she was deceived. By representing to his mistress that -Ashley had used her name to gain entrance to the hacienda, -he had hoped to divert her anger from himself,—and -what matter though it fell unjustly upon the dead -man? But in fact the second phrase of the sentence, -“He told me they were married,” was what struck most -keenly upon the ear of Doña Isabel, and chilled her very -blood. How much, then, did this servant know? How far -was she in his power? Until that moment she had not -known—had not suspected—that the murdered man -and the murderer had been within the walls of the hacienda -buildings. This knowledge but confirmed her intuitions! -Partly to learn facts which might guide her, and -partly to gain time, she looked with her coldest, most petrifying -gaze upon the man, and asked him what he meant, -and bade him tell her all, even as he would confess to the -priest, for so only he might hope to escape her most -severe displeasure.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As she spoke, she had glided behind him and slipped -the bolt of the door, and stood before the solid slab of -unpolished but time-darkened cedar, a very monument of -wrath. Pedro trembled more than ever, but was not for -that the less consistent in his tale of mingled truth and -falsehood. He had begun it with the name “The Señorita -Herlinda,” but Doña Isabel stopped him with a -portentous frown.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>“Her name,” she said, “my daughter’s name need not -be mentioned. She knows nothing of the woman John -Ashley came here to see, if there is one; the Señorita -Herlinda has nothing to do with her, nor with your tale. -Proceed.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro, not so deeply versed in the dissimulation of the -higher class as was Doña Isabel in that of the lower, -looked at her a moment in utter incredulity. He learned -nothing from her impassive face, but with the quickwittedness -of his race divined that one of the many dark-eyed -damsels who served in the house was to be considered -the cause of Ashley’s midnight visits. In that light, his -own breach of trust seemed more venial. Unconsciously, -he shaped his story to that end, and even took to himself -a sort of comfort in feigning to believe, what in his heart -he knew to be an assumption—whether merely verbal -or actual he knew not—of Doña Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The arguments by which he had been induced by Ashley -to open the doors of the hacienda for his midnight -admittance he would have dwelt on at some length, but -Doña Isabel stopped him. “Tell me only of what happened -last night,” she said; and in a low whisper he -obeyed, shuddering as he spoke of the man whom he -had admitted under the guise of a peasant, and who had -rushed out to encounter the devoted American, as a madman -or wild beast might rush upon its prey.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At his description, eloquent in its brevity, Doña Isabel -for a moment lost her calmness; her face dropped upon -her hands; her figure shrank together.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Pedro!” she murmured, “Pedro! you knew him? -You are certain?” she continued in a low, eager voice.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Certain, Señora! Should I be likely to be mistaken? -I, who have held him upon my knees a thousand times; -who first taught him to ride; who saw him when—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel stopped the enumeration with a gesture. -She paused a moment in deep thought; then she extended -her hand, and the man bent over it, not daring to touch it, -but reverently, as if it were that of a queen or a saint.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Silence, Pedro!” she said. “Silence! One word, -and the law would be upon him,—though God knows -there should be no law to avenge these false Americans, -who respect neither authority nor hospitality, and would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>take our very country from us. Pedro, this deed must -not bring fresh disaster; ’t was a mistake; but as you -live, as I pardon you the share you bore in it, keep -silence!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The words were not an entreaty; they were a command. -Doña Isabel understood too well the ascendency -which as lords of the soil the Garcias held over all who -had been born and bred on their estates, to take the false -step of lessening it by any act of weakness. She comprehended -that that very ascendency had led him to open -the gates to the declared husband of Herlinda—ay! as to -her lover he would have opened them. It was the <em>house</em> -of Garcia he served, as represented by the individual possessing -the dominant influence of the hour. As occasion -offered, he and his associates would have favored the interests -of any member in affairs of love, believing the intrigue -the natural pleasure of youth, and conceiving it presumption -to impugn the actions of one of the seigneurial family.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel became, at this time, when the terrible -consequences of his levity overpowered him, the controlling -power, and with absolute genius in a few words, admitting -nothing, explaining nothing, offering no reward, -she made the conscience-stricken man the keeper of the -honor of the powerful house of which he was but the veriest -minion.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Within the hour, while the people still thronged the -walls of the reduction-works, Doña Feliz left the great -house. The few who witnessed her departure were accustomed -to the peremptory commands of the Señora -Doña Isabel and the instant obedience of her confidential -servant, and had as little speculation in their minds as in -the gaze with which they followed the carriage and its -outriders,—yet murmured a few words of pity for those -who, after the horror of the tragedy, would lose the -sombre splendor of the rites which must necessarily -follow.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Upon the next day, John Ashley, carried in procession -by the entire population of men, women, and children of -Tres Hermanos, excepting only the immediate family of -Doña Isabel and Pedro the gate-keeper, was borne across -the wide valley, up the bleak hillside, and laid in a corner -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>of the low-walled, unkempt graveyard, among the lowly -dead of the <em>plebe</em>.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Not a sound escaped Herlinda, as from the windows of -her mother’s room she watched the funeral procession. -She had intuitively guessed the time it would issue from -the gates of the reduction-works, and her mother placed -no restraint upon her movements. Through the clear atmosphere -of the May day she could perfectly distinguish -the form, ay the very features of her beloved, as he lay -stretched upon a wide board surrounded by flowering -boughs, his fair curls resting upon the greenery, his -hands clasped upon his breast.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To steady their steps perhaps, rather than from any -religious custom, the people sang one of those minor airs -peculiar to the country, and which are at once so sad and -shrill that the piercing wail reached even so far as the -great house,—a weird accompaniment to the swaying of -the ghostly white lengths of candles borne in scores of -hands, and the pale flames of which burned colorless in the -brilliant sunshine.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Strangely impressive, even to an indifferent eye, might -well have been that scene; the slow march of Death and -Woe across the smiling fields, blotting the clear radiance -of the cloudless sky, and awesome then even to a careless -ear that wail of agony. Mademoiselle La Croix burst into -tears and threw herself upon the floor. Doña Isabel, -deadly pale, covered her eyes with a hand as cold and -white as snow. Herlinda sank upon her knees with parted -lips and straining eyes to watch the form upborne before -that dark and sinuous procession; but when it became lost -to view amid the throng which encircled the open grave, -she fell prone to the floor with such a moan as only woe -itself can utter,—a moan that seemed the outburst of a -maddened brain and a bursting heart.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That night instead of lamentation the sounds of festivity -began to be heard, and days of revelry among the -peasants followed the hours of horror and gloom which -had for a brief period prevailed. In the midst of them -Doña Feliz returned to the hacienda. Wherever her journey -had led her it had outwardly been unimportant, and -drew but little comment from the men who had attended -her, and was speedily forgotten. She herself gave no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>description of it, nor volunteered any information as to -its object or result. Even to Doña Isabel, who raised inquiring -eyes to the face of her emissary as she entered her -private room, she said, briefly, “No, there is no record; -absolutely none.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel sank back in her chair with a deep-drawn -breath as if some mighty tension, both of mind and body, -had suddenly relaxed. She had herself sought in vain -through the papers of Ashley for proofs of the alleged -marriage with Herlinda, and Feliz had scanned the public -records with vigilant eyes. Part of these records had in -some <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamiento</span></i> been destroyed by fire, but the -book containing those of the date she sought was intact. -The names of John Ashley and Herlinda Garcia did not -appear therein; the marriage, if marriage there had been, -was unrecorded, and as secret as it was illegal. Conscience -was satisfied, and Doña Isabel was content to -be passive. Why bring danger upon one still infinitely -dear to her? The heart of Doña Isabel turned cold at -the thought. Why rouse a scandal which could so easily -be avoided? Why strive to legalize a marriage which -could but bring ridicule upon herself, and shame and contempt -upon Herlinda?</p> - -<p class='c001'>That day, for the first time in many, Doña Isabel could -force a smile to her lip; for even for policy it had not been -possible for her to smile before. She was by nature -neither cold nor cruel, but she had been brought up in -the midst of petty intrigues, of violent passions and narrow -prejudices; and while she had scorned them, they -had moulded her mind,—as the constant wearing of rock -upon rock forms the hollow in the one, and rounds the -jagged surface of the other. What would have been -monstrous to her youth became natural to her middle age. -She had suffered and striven. Was it not the common -lot of woman? What more natural than that her daughter -should do the same? And what more natural than that the -mother should raise her who had fallen?—for fallen indeed, -in spite of the ceremony of marriage, would the world -think Herlinda. But why should the world know? She -pitied her daughter, even as a woman pities another in -travail; yet she looked to the future, she shrank from -the complexities of the present; and so silently, relentlessly, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>shaping her course, ignoring circumstance, she, like -a goddess making a law unto herself, thus unflinchingly -ordered the destiny of her child. Could she herself have -divined the various motives that influenced her? Nay, -no more perhaps than the circumstances which will be -developed in this tale may make clear the love, the -woman’s purity, the high-born lady’s pride, that all combined -to bid her ignore the marriage, which, though irregular, -had evidently been made in good faith; and for -which, in spite of open malice or secret innuendo, the -power and influence of her family could have won the -Pope’s sanction, and so silenced the cavillings if not the -gossip of the world.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span> - <h2 class='c007'>VI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>And thus in that remote hacienda—a little world in -itself, with all the mingled elements of wealth and poverty, -and all those subtile differences of caste and character -which form society, in circles small as well as -great—began a drama, which to the initiated was of deep -and absorbing interest. To the common mind despair -and agony can have no existence if they do not declare -themselves in groans and tears, and to such Herlinda’s -deep pallor and her silence revealed nothing; but there -were a few who watched in solemn apprehension, feeling -hers to be like the intense and sulphurous calm with -which Nature awaits the coming of the tempest.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But there were indeed few who saw in her any change -other than the events and anxieties of the time rendered -natural. At first indeed there had been whispers in corners, -and half-pitying, half-fearful shrugs and glances; -but almost from the day of Ashley’s burial a new and -fearful cause of public interest drew attention from Herlinda, -from her pallor and her wide-eyed gaze of horror, -to the consideration of a more personal anxiety.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The common people declared that from the night of the -murder, death, unsatisfied with one victim, had hovered -over the hacienda. The rains which should have fallen -after the long dry winter, with cleansing and copious force, -flooding the ravines and carrying away the accumulated -impurities of months, had but moistened and stirred the -infected mud of the stagnant water-courses and set loose -the fevers which lingered in their depths. Years afterward -the peasants dated many a widowhood and orphanage from -those plague-stricken weeks. There was one death or -more in every hut, and even the great house did not -escape its quota of victims. One after another, members -of the families of the clerks and officers succumbed,—the -major-domo of the courts among the first, and then Mademoiselle -La Croix, who indeed, it was afterward observed, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>had from the first sickened and fallen into a dejection, -from which it was almost impossible she should rally. The -governess was the object of the most devoted care even -from the usually cold and stately Doña Isabel, while the -panic-stricken Herlinda, careless of her own danger, bent -over her with agonized and fruitless efforts to recall the -waning life, or soothe the parting and remorseful soul.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But in all that terrible time this was the only event -that seemed to touch or rouse her; for the rest, one might -have thought those dreadful days but the ordinary calendar -of Herlinda’s life. Indeed, it is to be supposed that -they suited so well the desolation of her spirit, and that -they presented so congruous a setting to her melancholy, -that it became merged and absorbed as it were in her -surroundings, and so was unperceived, save as the fitting -humor of a time when ease and mirth would have been an -insult to the general woe.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel had announced her intention of replacing -the director of the reduction-works; but time went on, -and in the general consternation produced by the epidemic -nothing was done. There was much sickness at -the works; many of the most experienced hands died; -and one day when the clerk in charge was at the crisis of -the fever, the men who were not incapacitated from illness -went by common consent to the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">tienda</span></i> to stupefy -themselves with fiery native brandy; and Doña Isabel, -who was fearlessly passing from one poor hovel to another, -aiding the village doctress and the priest in their offices, -ordered the mules to be taken from the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">tortas</span></i>, and the -stamps to be stopped. Thus, as the masses half mixed -lay upon the floors, they gradually dried and hardened; -and as the great stone wheels ceased to turn in the beds of -broken ores, so for years upon years they remained, and -the works at Tres Hermanos gradually fell into ruin,—a -fit haunt for the ghost which, as years went by, was said -to haunt their shades. But this was long afterward, when -the memory of the handsome and hapless youth had become -almost as a myth, mingled with the thousand tales of -blood which the fluctuating fortunes of years of international -and civil war made as common as they were terrible.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This fertile spot until now had been singularly free -from the terror and disorder that had affected the greater -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>part of the country; and though sharing the excitement -of party feeling, the actual demands of strife had -never invaded it. But quick upon the typhoid, when -the peasants who had been spared began to think of -repairing their half-ruined hovels, many of them were -summoned away with scant ceremony. Don Julian Garcia -appeared at the hacienda, his uniform glittering with gold -braid, buttons, and lace, the trappings of his horse more -gorgeous even than his own dress. He was raising a -troop to join his old commander, Santa Anna, who had -returned in triumph to the land from which he had been -banished, to lead the arms of his countrymen against the -foreign foe, which already had begun its victorious march -within the sacred borders of their country. In a word, -the American War had begun, and involved all factions -in one common cause, giving a rallying cry to leaders of -every party, to which even the most ignorant among the -people responded with intuitive and unquestioning ardor.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Julian was uncertain in his politics, but not in his -hatreds. He heard the tale of the murder of the American -with complacency; the taking off of one of the heretics -seemed to him natural enough,—it was scarcely -worth a second thought, certainly not a pause in his -work of collecting troops. If Isabel, he commented, had -writhed under wounded patriotism as he had done, the -American would never have had an opportunity of finding -so honorable a service in which to die. Evidently the -grudge of some bold patriot, this. What would you? -Mexicans were neither sticks nor stones!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda heard and trembled; a faint hope, a half-formed -resolve, had wakened in her breast when she had -heard of the arrival of Don Julian. He was a distant -cousin, a man of some influence in the family. She remembered -him as more frank and genial than others of -her kindred. An impulse to break the seal of silence -came over her, as she heard his voice ringing through the -courts and the clank of his spurs upon the stairs; but it -was checked by the first distinct utterance of his lips, -which, like all that followed, was a denunciation of the -perfidious, the insatiable, the licentious and heretical Americans. -For the first time, to the indifference with which -she had regarded the desirability of establishing her position -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>as the acknowledged wife of Ashley was added a sensation -of fear. What had been in her mind an undefined -and incomplete idea of the anger and scorn which the -knowledge of her daring would cause among her family connections, -became now a terrifying dread as the impetuous -but unrepented act assumed the proportions of treason. -The words which at the first opportunity she would have -spoken died upon her lips, and she became once more -hopeless, impassive, unresisting, cold, waiting what time -and fate should bring.</p> - -<p class='c001'>And time passed on unflinchingly, and fate was unrelenting. -Carmen, after a slight attack of fever, had been sent -to some relative in Guanapila, and there she still remained. -Doña Isabel’s household consisted only of herself, Herlinda, -and the aged priest her cousin Don Francisco de -Sales, who though in his dotage still at long intervals -read Mass in the chapel, baptized infants, and muttered -prayers over the dying or dead, not the less sincere because -he who breathed them himself stood so far within -the shadow of the tomb. The old man was kindly in his -senility, and spent long hours dozing in the chair of the -confessional, while penitents whispered in his ear their -faults and sins, for which they never failed to obtain absolution, -little imagining that the placid mind of the old -man, even when by chance he was awake, dwelt far more -upon the scenes of his youth than the follies and wickednesses -of the present. Sometimes he babbled harmlessly -of days long past, even of sights and doings far from clerical; -but the priestly habit was second nature, and even if -he heeded the confidences reposed in him, in his weakest -moments they never escaped his lips. To him Herlinda -was free to go and disburden her mind, complying with -the regulations of her Church, and seeking relief to her -troubled soul. To him, too, Doña Isabel resorted; and -these two women with their tales of woe, which as often as -repeated escaped his memory, roused faintly within his -heart an echo of the pain which he uneasily and confusedly -remembered dwelt in the world, from which he was -gliding into the peace beyond.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Sometimes at the table, or as he sat with them in the corridor,—the -priest in the sunshine, they in the shade,—he -looked at them with puzzled inquiry in his gaze, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>changed to mild satisfaction at some caress or fond word; -for this gentle old man was tenderly beloved, with a sort of -superstitious reverence. Even Doña Isabel attributed a -special sanctity to his blessing, looking upon him as an -automaton of the Church, which without consciousness of -its own would—certain springs of emotion being touched—respond -with admonition or blessing, fraught with all -the authority of the Supreme Power. Doña Isabel, as a -devout Romanist, had ever been scrupulous in the observances -of her Church, submitting to the spiritual functions -of the clergy absolutely, while she detested and openly -protested against their licentiousness and greed, as also -their pernicious interference in worldly affairs. Therefore -throughout her life, and especially during her widowhood, -she had studiously avoided the more popular clergy, and -had sought the oracle of duty through some clod of humanity, -who, though dull, should be at least free from -vices,—choosing by preference one of her own family to be -the repository of her secrets and the judge of her motives -and actions. Unconsciously to herself, while outwardly -and even to her own conscience fulfilling the requirements -of her Church, she had interpreted them by her own will, -which, in justice let it be said, had often proved a wise -and loyal one; in a word, Doña Isabel Garcia, with -exceptional powers within her grasp, had skilfully and -astutely freed herself from those trammels which might -at the present crisis have forced her into a diametrically -opposite course from that which she had determined to -pursue, or would at least have forced her to acknowledge -to her own mind the doubtful nature of deeds that she -now suffered herself to look upon as meritorious. For -years, unconsciously, her will had imbued the judgments -of her spiritual adviser, as the Padre Francisco was -called, and it was not to be supposed that she should -cavil now, when with complacent alacrity he echoed yea -to her yea, and nay to her nay,—and as she left him, -sank back into his chair with a faint wonder at her tale, -to forget it in his next slumber, or until recalled to him -by the anguished outpourings of Herlinda, for whom he -found no words of guidance other than those which -throughout his life he had given to young maidens in -distress, the commendable ones, “Do as your mother -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>directs;” though, as he listened to her words, the tears -would pour down his cheeks, and pitying phrases fall from -his trembling lips. Poor Herlinda would be comforted -for a moment by his simple human sympathy,—even -weeping perhaps, for at such times the blessed relief of -tears was given her,—yet found in her darkness no -light, either human or divine.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Had Mademoiselle La Croix lived, Herlinda would doubtless -have received from her the impetus to throw herself -upon the pity and protection of her cousin Don Julian, -which in spite of his prejudices he could scarcely have refused; -for the governess, though she was at first stunned -and terrified by the knowledge of the invalidity of the -marriage, was no coward, and would have braved much -to reinstate the girl she had through compassion—and, -she had with a pang been obliged to own, through cupidity—aided -to bring into a false position. But she had -scarcely recovered her bewildered senses, the more bewildered -by the incomprehensible calm of Doña Isabel, when -she was attacked by the fever,—to which she succumbed -a month before the appearance of the doughty warrior, -whose blustering fierceness would not have appalled her or -deterred her from urging Herlinda to lay before him the -matter, whose vital importance the stunned young creature -failed to comprehend.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Later it burst upon her, but it was then too late,—Don -Julian had marched away with his troops. She was -alone,—no help, no counsellor near. Alone? Ah, no! -there were human creatures near, who could behold and -suspect and shake the head. Herlinda awoke to the -shame of her position, as a bird in a net, striving to fly, -first learns its danger. O God! where should she fly? -Were these careless, laughing women as unconscious as -they seemed? Where might she hide herself from these -languid, soft eyes, which suddenly might become hard and -cruel with intelligence? Herlinda drew her reboso around -her, and with flushing cheek traversed the shadiest corridors -in her necessary passages from room to room, her -eyes, large with apprehension, burning beneath her downcast -lids. Every day she grew more restless, more beautiful. -She walked for hours in the walled garden, which -the servants never entered. They began to whisper, forgetting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>the gossip of months before, that the chances of -war were secretly stealing the gayety and buoyancy of -Herlinda’s youth, by keeping from her side the playmate -of her childhood, her lover Vicente Gonzales. Feliz -smiled when a garrulous servant spoke thus one day, but -ten minutes later entered the room of Doña Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The next morning it was known that the Señorita Herlinda -was to have change, was to go to the capital, that -Mecca of all Mexicans. Doña Isabel and Feliz were to -accompany her. The clerks and overseers wondered, and -shook their heads wisely. They had heard wild tales of -the political factions which rendered the city unsafe to -woman as to man; Santa Anna’s brief dictatorship had -ended in trouble. Still, in that remote district nothing -was known with certainty, and these bucolic minds were -not given to many conjectures upon the motives or movements -of their superiors. If anything could arouse surprise, -it was the fact that the ladies were not to travel by -private carriage, as had been the custom of the Garcias -from time immemorial, attended by a numerous escort of -armed rancheros; but being driven to the nearest post -where the public diligence was to be met, were to proceed -by it most unostentatiously upon their way. This aroused -far more discussion than the fact of the journey itself; -though it was unanimously agreed that if Doña Isabel -could force herself to depart from the accustomed dignity -of the family, and indeed preserve a slight incognito upon -the road, her chances of making the journey in safety -would be greatly increased.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Her resolve once made it was acted upon instantly, no -time being allowed for news of her departure to spread -abroad and to give the bandits who infested the road opportunity -to plan the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">plajio</span></i>, or carrying off, of so rich a -prize as Doña Isabel Garcia and her daughter would have -proved. And thus, early one November morning,—when -the whole earth was covered with the fresh greenness -called into growth by the rainy season which had just -passed, and the azure of a cloudless sky hung its perfect -arch above the valley, seeming to rest upon the crown-like -circlet of the surrounding hills,—Herlinda passed through -the crowd of dependents who, as usual on such occasions, -gathered at the gates to see the travellers off. Doña -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>Isabel, who was with her, was affable, smiling and nodding -to the men, and murmuring farewell words to the -nearest women; but Herlinda was silent, and it was -not until she was seated in the carriage that she threw -back the reboso which she had drawn to her very eyes, -revealing her face, which was deadly pale. As she -gazed lingeringly around, half sadly, half haughtily, -with the proud curve of the lip (though it quivered) -which made all the more striking her general resemblance -to her beautiful mother, a thrill, they knew not of what -or why, ran through the throng. For a moment there was -a profound silence, in the midst of which the aged priest -raised his hand in blessing. Suddenly a flash of memory, -a gleam of inspiration, came over him; he turned aside the -hand of Doña Isabel, which had been extended in farewell, -and laid his own upon the bowed head of her daughter. -“Fear not, my daughter,” he said, “thou art blessed. -Though I shall see thee no more, my blessing, and the -blessing of God, shall be with thee.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The old man turned away, leaning heavily upon Doña -Rita, the wife of the administrador, who led him tenderly -away, and a few minutes later he was sitting smiling at -her side, while without were heard the farewell cries of -the women. “May God go with you, Niña! May you -soon return! Adios, Niña! more beautiful than our -patron saint! Adios, and joy be with thee!” And in -the midst of such good wishes, as Herlinda still leaned -from the window, a smile upon her lip, her hand waving -a farewell, the carriage drove away and the people dispersed; -leaving Pedro, the gate-keeper, standing motionless -in the shadow of the great door-post, his eyes riveted -on the sands at his feet, but seeing still the glance of -agony, of warning, of entreaty, which had darted from -Herlinda’s eyes, and seemed to scorch his own.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span> - <h2 class='c007'>VII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Upon the death of Mademoiselle La Croix, or rather -perhaps from the time of her return to the hacienda after -her ineffectual quest, Doña Feliz had virtually become the -duenna of Herlinda. Not that such an office was formally -recognized or required in the seclusion of Tres Hermanos, -but it was nevertheless true that Herlinda had seldom -found herself alone, even in the walled garden. Though -she paced its narrow paths without companionship, she -had been aware that her mother or Doña Feliz lingered -near; and it was this consciousness that had steeled her -outwardly, and forced her to restrain the passionate despair -that under other circumstances would have burst forth to -relieve the tension of mind and brain. When she at last -roused from the apathy of despair, her days became periods -of speechless agony, but sometimes at night, when she had -believed that Feliz—who, since Carmen’s departure, had -occupied the adjacent room—was asleep, for a few brief -moments she had yielded to the demands of her grief, and -given way to sobs and tears, to throw herself finally prostrate -before the little altar, where she kept the lamp constantly -burning before the Mother of Sorrows. Thence -Feliz at times had raised her, and led her to her bed,—chill, -unresisting, more dead than alive, yet putting aside -the arm that would have supported her, and by mute gestures -entreating to be left to her misery.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Fortunately for her reason, there were times when in -utter exhaustion Herlinda had slept heavily and awoke -refreshed,—and this had occurred a night or two after she -had learned, by a few decisive words from her mother, -of her imminent removal from Tres Hermanos. She -had retired early, and awoke to find the soft and brilliant -moonlight flooding her chamber. Every article in -the room was visible; their shadows fell black upon the -tiled floor, and the lamp before the altar burned pale. A -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>profound stillness reigned. Herlinda raised herself on her -pillow, and looked around her. The scene was weird and -ghostly, and she presently became aware that she was utterly -alone. She listened intently,—not the echo of a -breath from the next room. Her heart leaped; for a moment -its pulsations perplexed her; another, and she had -moved noiselessly from her bed and crossed the room. -She glanced into that adjoining. That too was flooded in -moonlight, which shone full upon the bed. Yes, it was -empty. Doña Feliz had doubtless been called to some -sick person; she had left Herlinda sleeping, thinking that -at that hour of the night there could be no danger in -leaving her for a brief half hour alone.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In an instant these thoughts darted through Herlinda’s -mind, followed by a project that of late she had much -dwelt upon, but had believed impossible of realization. -With trembling hands she took from her wardrobe a dress -of some soft dark stuff, and a black and gray reboso, and -put them on. Without pausing a moment for thought that -might deter her, she glided from the room, crossed the -corridor, and descended the stairs, taking the same direction -in which Ashley had gone to his death. She paused -too at the gate, to do as he had done; for she touched the -sleeping Pedro lightly upon the shoulder, at the same -instant uttering his name.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The man started from his sleep affrighted,—too much -affrighted to cry out; for like most haciendas, Tres Hermanos -had its ghost. From time to time the apparition of -a weeping woman was seen by those about to die. Had -she come to him now? His tongue clove to the roof of -his mouth; he shook in every limb. The moonlight shone -full in the court, but the archway was in shade: who or -what was this that stood beside him, extending a white -arm from its dark robes, and touching him with one slight -finger? A repetition of his name restored him to his -senses, and he staggered to his feet, muttering, “Señorita! -My Señorita, for God’s sake why are you here? You will -be seen! You will be recognized!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘In the night all cats are gray,’” she answered, with -one of those proverbs as natural to the lips of a Mexican -as the breath they draw. “No one would distinguish me -in this light from any of the servants; but still my words -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>must be brief, for my absence from my room may be discovered. -Pedro, I have a work to do; it has been in my -mind all this time. You, you can help me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She clasped her hands; he thought she looked at the -door, and the idea darted into his mind that she contemplated -escape, or that she had a mad desire to throw -herself upon her lover’s grave and die there.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Niña! Niña, of my life!” he said imploringly, using -the form of address one might employ to a child, or some -dearly loved elder, still dependent. “Go back to your -chamber, I beg and implore! How can I do anything for -you? How can Pedro, so worthless, so vile, do anything?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The adjectives he applied to himself were sincere enough, -for Pedro had never ceased to reproach himself for his share -in the tragedy which, in spite of Doña Isabel’s words, he -had never really ceased to believe concerned Herlinda, -though he had striven for his own peace of mind, as well -as in loyalty to the Garcias, to affect a contrary opinion, -until this moment, when his young mistress’s appearance -and appeal rendered self-deception no longer possible. -Again and again he reiterated, “What can the miserable -Pedro do for you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Apparently with an instinct of concealment, Herlinda -had crouched upon the stones, and as the man stood before -her she raised her face and gazed at him with her dark -eyes. How large they looked in the uncertain light! how -the young face quivered and was convulsed, as her lips -parted! Pedro, with an inward shrinking, expected her to -demand of him the name of Ashley’s murderer; but the -thought of vengeance, if it ever crossed her mind, was far -from it at that moment. “Yes, yes, there is perhaps -something you can do for me,” she said. “Men are able -to do so much, while we poor women can only fold our -hands, and wait and suffer. I thought differently once, -though. John used to laugh at what he called our idle -ways; he said women were made to act as well as men. -But what can I do? What could any woman do in my -place? Nothing! nothing! nothing!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro was silent. He knew well how powerless, what -a mere chattel or toy, was a young woman of his people. -It seemed, too, quite natural and right to him. In this -particular case the mother was acting with incomparable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>severity, but she was within her right. Even while -he pitied the child, it did not enter his mind to counsel -her to combat her mother’s will. He only repeated mechanically, -“What can I do? What would you have your -servant do?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Not so hard a thing,” she said with a sob in her voice; -“even a woman, had I one for my friend, could do this -thing for me; and yet it is all I have to ask in the world. -Just a little pity for my child, Pedro!” She rose to her -feet suddenly, and spoke rapidly. “Pedro, they say that -I was not truly married; they say my beautiful, golden-haired -husband, my angel of light, deceived me. It is -false, Pedro! all false! But they say the world will not -believe me, and so I must go away; and my child, like an -offspring of shame, must be born in secret, and I must -submit. It will be taken from me, and I must submit. -There is no help! no help!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She spoke in a kind of frenzy, and her excitement communicated -itself to Pedro. He understood, far better than -she could, the motives of Doña Isabel; he did not condemn -her, neither did he attempt to justify her to her -daughter. He only muttered again in his stoical way, -“What can I do?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda accepted the words as they were meant, as an -offer of devotion, of service. “Pedro, you can do much,” -she said rapidly. “You can watch over my child. -Years hence, when I come to ask it, you can give me -news of it. Ah, they think when they take my child from -me, it will be as dead to me; but Pedro,” she added in an -eager whisper, “I have found what they will do. Never -mind how I learned it. They will bring my child here,—here, -where only the peasants will ask a few useless questions, -where there will be no person of influence to interfere. -Yes, it will be brought here, and—forgotten! But -Pedro, promise me you will watch for it, you will protect -it. Promise! promise! promise!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro was startled, but not incredulous. This would -not be the first child that had been found at the hacienda -doors, left to the charity of the señoras; more than one -half-grown boy, of whose parents no one knew anything, -loitered in the courts, and even the maid who served Doña -Isabel was a foundling of this class.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>“But how shall I know,” he stammered, after he had -satisfied her with the promise she desired. “True enough, -it may be brought here, but how shall I know?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda scarcely heeded his words. She was busy in -taking a small reliquary from her neck. It was square, -made of pale blue silk, and in no way remarkable. “See, -I will put this around its neck,” she said. “No one will -dare remove a reliquary. There is a bit of the true cross -in it. It will keep evil away; it will bring good fortune. -The first day I wore it I met John; and” she added, nervously -fingering the jewel at her ear, “take this, Pedro. -The other I will put in the reliquary, with a prayer to San -Federigo. When you see the strange child that will come -here, look for these signs, and as you hope for mercy -hereafter, guard the child that bears them.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She had placed in his hand a flat earring of quaint filagree -work, one of the marvels of rude and almost barbaric -workmanship that the untaught goldsmiths of the haciendas -produce. Pedro would have returned it to her, swearing -by all he held sacred to do her will; but some sound -had startled her. She slipped the reliquary into her -bosom, drew her scarf around her, and glided away. He -saw her pass the small doorway like a spectre. He could -scarcely believe that she had been there at all, that she -had actually spoken to him. He crossed himself as he -lost sight of her, and looked in a dazed way at the earring -in his palm.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Would to God,” he muttered, “I had told Doña -Isabel all the truth, as I meant to, when I went to her -from the dead man’s side. Why did I not tell her plainly -I knew her daughter Herlinda to be the woman Ashley -had come here to meet,—would she have dared then to -say she was not his wife? Fool that I was! I myself -doubted. What, doubt that sweet angel! Beast! imbecile!” -and Pedro flung his striped blanket from him -with a gesture of disgust. “And now, what would be -the use, though I should trumpet abroad the whole matter? -No, my hour has passed. Doña Isabel must work her -will; I will not fail her, for only by being true can I -serve her daughter. But who knows?—Herlinda may -be deceived; her fears may have turned her brain. Yet -all the same I will keep this token;” and he looked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>at the earring reverently, then placed it in his wallet. -Two days later, when she left Tres Hermanos and he saw -its fellow in Herlinda’s ear, he caught the momentary -glance in her dark eye, and stood transfixed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro Gomez hitherto had been a careless, idle, rollicking -fellow; thenceforward he became grave, watchful, and -crafty,—the change which, had there been keen observers -near, all might have noticed in the outward man being as -nothing to that from the specious fellow whom Ashley had -found it an easy matter to bribe, to the conscience-stricken -man who stood at the gates of the great hacienda of the -Garcias, cognizant of its conflicting interests, and sworn -to guard them; his crafty mind inclining to Doña Isabel -and the cause she represented, his heart yearning over the -erring daughter.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span> - <h2 class='c007'>VIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Though Herlinda Garcia had forced a smile to her lips -as she left, perhaps forever, the house where she was -born, as the carriage was driven rapidly across the fertile -valley her eyes remained fixed with melancholy, even despairing, -intensity upon the walls wherein she had learned -in her brief experience of life much that combines to -make up the sum of woman’s wretchedness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda had ever been an imaginative child, even before -she had attained the age of seven years, at which she had -been taught to consider herself a reasoning, responsible -being; she had been conscious of vague feelings and -desires, which had in a measure separated her from her -family and the people who surrounded her, and had set -her in sullen opposition to the aimless and inane occupations -which served to while away days that her eager -nature longed to fill with action. Though she had not been -conscious of any especial direction into which she would -have thrown her energies, she had been most keenly conscious -that she possessed them, and early rebelled against -the petty tasks that curbed and strove to stifle them,—such -tasks as the embroidering of capes and stoles, or drawing -of threads from fine linen, to be replaced with intricate -stitches of needle-work, to form the decoration of altar -cloths, or the garments of the waxen Lady of Sorrows -above the altar in the chapel, or of the Virgin of Guadalupe -in the great <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">sala</span></i>,—as she did also against the endless -repetition of prayers, for which she needlessly turned the -leaves of her well-thumbed breviary. How she had -longed for freedom to run with the peasant children over -the fields! How many hours she had hung over the iron -railing of her mother’s balcony, and gazed upon the far -hills, and wondered what sort of world lay in the blue -beyond them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Sometimes Herlinda had attempted to talk to Vicente -Gonzales of these things when he came from the city, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>privileged as the son of an old friend, and the scion of a -wealthy and influential family, to form an early intimacy -with the pretty child, whom later he would meet but in -her mother’s presence with all the restrictions of Spanish -etiquette. She had always liked the proud, handsome -boy, but he was far slower in mental development than -she, and could only laugh at her fancies. And so as they -grew older, and he in secret grew more fond, she had -become indifferent, restlessly longing for an expansion -of her contracted and aimless existence, yet finding no -promise in the prospects of war and political strife which -began to allure Gonzales, and in which she could not -hope to take part,—and to sit a spectator was not in the -nature of Herlinda. Her mother delighted to watch the -fray, to counsel and direct. It was perhaps this trait in -Doña Isabel’s character that, while it had awakened her -daughter’s admiration, had chafed and fretted her, checking -the natural expression of her lively and energetic -spirit, even as the cold and stately dignity of her manner -repressed the affections which lay ardent within her, -waiting but the magnetic touch of a responsive nature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Such an one had not been found within her home; all -were cold, preoccupied, absorbed in the every-day affairs -of life. Sometimes, when by chance Herlinda had caught -a glimpse of the repressed inner nature of Doña Feliz, the -mother of the administrador, she had felt for a moment -drawn toward her; but although all her life she had lived -beneath the same roof with her, there had occurred no -special circumstance to draw them into intimacy, or in -any way lessen the barrier that difference in age and -position raised between them,—for perhaps in no part of -the world are the subtle differences of caste so clearly -recognized and so closely observed as in those little -worlds, the Mexican <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">haciendas de campo</span></i>.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Sometimes, in her unhappiest moods, when her unrest -had become actual pain and resolved itself into a vague -but real feeling of grief, Herlinda had thought of her -father, in her heart striving to idealize what was but an -uncertain memory of an elderly, formal-mannered man, -handsome according to the type of his race,—sharp-featured, -eagle-eyed, but small of stature, with small effeminate -hands which Herlinda could remember she used to kiss, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>in the respectful salutation with which she had been -taught to greet him. He had died when Herlinda was -eight years old, just after the second daughter, Carmen, -was born; and though Doña Isabel seldom mentioned -him, it was understood that she had loved him deeply, -and for his sake lived the life of semi-isolation which her -age, her beauty, her talents, and wealth seemed to combine -to render an unnatural choice. As she grew older, -Herlinda began to wonder, and sometimes repine, at -this utter separation from the world of which in a hurried -visit to the city of Guanapila she had once caught a -glimpse. Especially was this the case after the arrival of -Mademoiselle La Croix, who was lost in wonder that any -one should voluntarily resign herself to exile even in so -lovely a spot; and although she opened for Herlinda a -new world in the studies to which she directed her, they -had been rather of an imaginative than a logical kind, and -stimulated those faculties which should rather have been -repressed, while personally the governess had answered -no need in the frank yet repressed and struggling nature -of her pupil.</p> - -<p class='c001'>These had been the conditions under which Herlinda had -met John Ashley, and we know with what result. As the -tiny stream rushes into the river and is carried away by -its force, their waters mingling indistinguishably, so the -mind, the very soul of Herlinda had felt the power of -that perfect sympathy which, in the few short words -uttered in the pauses of a dance (for they had first met -at Guanapila) and the expressive glances of his eyes, she -believed herself to have found in the mind and heart of -the alien,—a man in her mother’s employ, one whom ordinarily -she would have treated with perfect politeness, but -would have thought of as set as far apart from her own life -as though they were beings of a separate order of creation. -The fact that he was a handsome young man would -primarily have had no effect upon Herlinda, though undoubtedly -it served to render to her mind more natural -and delightful the ascendency which, in spite of all obstacles, -he rapidly gained over her entire nature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Needless is it for us to analyze the mind and character -of Ashley. It is certain he loved Herlinda passionately, -and in the opposition of Doña Isabel to his suit saw but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>irrational prejudice and mediæval tyranny. His entire -freedom from sordid motives, and his fears of the consequences -of delay,—knowing as he did of the desired -engagement between Herlinda and the young Vicente Gonzales,—justified -to his mind a course which the canons of -honor would have forbidden, but of the legality of which -he certainly had had no question, the intricacies and -delicacies of marriage laws having engaged no share in the -attention of a somewhat adventurous youth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This very heedlessness and activity of John Ashley’s -nature had formed an especial charm to Herlinda; she -would have shrunk from and pondered over a more cautious -nature,—perhaps would have ended in loving, but -she never would have cast aside all the traditions of her -youth. All her life she had been like a bird in the cage. -For a brief space she had seen the wide expanse of the -sky opening above her, she had fluttered upward; but -death had struck her down to darkness,—death, which -had pierced the strong and loving one who would have -guided and protected her! She moaned, and turned her -face to the corner of the carriage. An arm stole around -her; it was that of Doña Feliz.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span> - <h2 class='c007'>IX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>The pale dawn, creeping over the hills behind which -the sun was still hidden, revealing to the accustomed sight -of Doña Feliz a narrow, irregular street of adobe hovels; -a tiny church with a square tower, where the swallows -were sleepily chirping; around and behind, stray trees -and patches of gardens; upon the waste of sand, where -cacti and dusty sagebrush grew, up to the hills where the -pines began, a road of yellow sand, winding like a sinuous -serpent over all; two or three early loiterers, with eyes -turned toward the diligence, which thus early was making -its way from the night’s resting place toward the distant -city,—such was the scene upon which the trusted -servant and friend of the Garcias looked on a morning -early in November. She was standing in the low gateway -that gave entrance to a garden overgrown with weeds and -vines. These vines spread from the fig and orange trees, -and half covered the ruinous walls of a house which had -once, where the surroundings were so humble, ranked as -an elegant mansion, and which indeed had served in -years gone by as a temporary retreat, small but attractive, -for such of the family of Garcia as desired a few days’ retirement -from their accustomed pursuits. Here the ladies -had wandered amid the flowers, and sat under the arbors -where the purple grapes clustered, and honeysuckle and -jessamine mingled their rich odors; and the gentlemen -had smoked their cigarettes in luxurious ease, or sallied -forth to shoot the golden plover in its season, or hunt the -deer amid the surrounding hills. This had in fact been -a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">quinta</span></i>, or pleasure resort, but since the days of revolutions -and bandits it had been utterly abandoned to the rats -and owls, or to the nominal care of the ragged brood who -huddled together in the half-ruinous kitchen; and here the -romance of Herlinda’s life had been enacted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When Doña Isabel Garcia had desired to send her -daughter from the hacienda of Tres Hermanos, in order to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>remove her from the neighborhood of Ashley and give her -the benefit of change, she had at first been sadly perplexed -where to send her. Should she go to her relatives in the -city, it was possible that her dejected mien and unguarded -words might give them a suspicion of the truth,—and -Doña Isabel detested gossip, particularly family gossip; -besides, she looked upon Herlinda’s marriage with Vicente -Gonzales as certain, and dreaded lest the faintest rumor -of the young girl’s attachment should reach his ears, and -awaken in him the slumbering demon of jealousy,—which, -though it might rouse the young soldier as a -lover to fresh ardor only, might incite him later as her -husband to a tyranny which the mind of Herlinda was -ill disposed to bear. In this dilemma the house at Las -Parras had occurred to her. Once in her own girlhood -she had visited the place, and she remembered it as a -most charming sylvan retreat; and although she knew it -to be situated in the outskirts of a small hamlet scarce -worthy of the name of village, and that it had been abandoned -for years, its isolation and abandonment at that -juncture precisely constituted its attractions; and thither, -under the care of Don Rafael the administrador and of -Mademoiselle La Croix, Herlinda had been sent. Precautions -had been taken to baffle the inquiries of Ashley as -to their route and destination, which, as has been said, an -accident revealed to him just when his mind was most -strongly excited by the mystery which his disposition and -training, as well as his love, led him passionately to resent. -Hither, too, when a new and still more important -need had risen, Herlinda had been brought.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel had been unaffectedly shocked, when, -after a tortuous journey by diligence in order to evade -conjecture as to their destination, they had at nightfall -arrived at this deserted mansion, and had passed through -the narrow door-way set in the high stone-wall that surrounded -the garden, and had looked upon its tangled -masses of half tropic vegetation, and entered the ruin, to -find that only three or four small rooms opening upon the -vineyard were habitable. But in these few rooms they -and their secret were safe,—safe as if buried in the caves -of the earth. Herlinda looked around her for familiar -faces, but all she saw were strange to her. Doña Isabel -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>had guarded against recognition of Herlinda, and even her -own identity was disguised. To the women and the old -man who performed the work of the kitchen and went the -necessary errands, but who were rigidly excluded from the -private rooms, she was known only as a friend of Doña -Isabel Garcia,—one Doña Carlota, whose family name -awoke no interest or inquiry.</p> - -<p class='c001'>After satisfying her hungry anxiety to catch a glimpse -of the servants, and finding them strangers, Herlinda -made no further effort to encounter them. She was very -ill after arrival, and it is doubtful whether the attendants—dull, -apathetic creatures—ever saw her face plainly from -the day she entered the house until that of which we -speak, when Doña Feliz stood in the low doorway in the -garden wall, and looked toward the diligence which -appeared indistinctly, a moving monster in the distance. -She glanced back occasionally, half impatiently, half sorrowfully, -to the house. Through the open door of it -presently glided Doña Isabel. Her head was bent, her -olive cheeks were deadly pale, and she shivered as with -cold as she stepped out into the dusk of early morning,—or -rather late night, for it was an hour when not a -creature around the place was stirring, not even the birds; -a wide-eyed cat stared at her as she passed down the narrow -walk, and she shrank even from its gaze. She held -something under her black reboso, which upon reaching -Feliz she passed to her with averted eyes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Take it,” she said; “Herlinda is asleep. We trust -you, Feliz. I in my shame, she in her despair, we give -this child to you, never to ask it of you again, never to -know whether it lives or dies.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The passionless composure with which she said these -words, the absolute freedom from any tone of vindictiveness, -gave to them the accent of perfect trust. There was -nothing of cruelty, nothing of hesitancy in the tone or -words or manner with which Doña Isabel Garcia laid in the -arms of Feliz a new-born sleeping infant, and thus separated -herself and her family from the fate which with absolute -confidence she placed in the hands of the statuesque, -cold-faced woman who stood there to receive it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But with the child in her arms a great change swept -over the face of Feliz. One could not have told at a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>glance whether it was loathing and resentment, or an -agony of pity, that convulsed her features, or all combined. -“My words are all said,” she murmured. “Herlinda -is, you say, resigned. Oh, Doña Isabel, Doña Isabel, you -will rue this hour! I do your will; do not you blame or -accuse me in the future!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The diligence had driven through the village. To the -astonishment of the idlers it stopped before the wall that -circled the half-ruined <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">quinta</span></i>; a woman stepped through -the doorway, and was helped to her seat. She had evidently -been expected by the driver. They would have -been still more surprised had they also seen the lady who -waved a white hand at parting, and who turned back into -the garden with a deep-drawn sigh of relief, followed by -a groan that seemed to rend and distort the lips through -which it came, and which she vainly strove to keep from -trembling as she entered the house, and answered the call -of her awakened daughter.</p> - -<p class='c001'>What can I say of the scene that followed? What that -will awaken pity, unstained with blame, for that poor -creature, so powerless in that land that her sisters, in -others more blessed, perhaps, find it impossible to put -themselves in imagination in her place even for a single -moment? But the captive slave can writhe; woman, the -pampered toy, may weep: and where woman was both -(for even in Mexico a new era is dawning on her), she -could struggle and despair and die,—but, as Herlinda -knew too well, in youth at least she could not assert her -womanhood, and make or mar her own destiny. In such -a land, in such a cause, what champion would arise to -beat down the iron laws of custom which manacled and -crushed her? Not one!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span> - <h2 class='c007'>X.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>One day Pedro Gomez, half-sleeping half-meditating as -he sat on the stone bench beneath the hanging serpents -that garnished the vestibule of Tres Hermanos, thought he -saw a ghost upon the stairs which led from one corner of -the wide court into which he had glanced, to the corridor -of the upper floor. An apparition of Doña Feliz, he thought, -had passed up them; and with ready superstition he decided -in his own mind that some evil had befallen her in her -journeyings. He was so disturbed by this idea that a few -moments later, as her son Don Rafael passed through the -vestibule, he ventured to stop him and tell him what he -had seen; whereat Don Rafael burst into a loud laugh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What, do you not know,” he said, “that my mother -has returned? Ah, I remember you were at Mass this -morning. She came over from the post-house on donkey-back. -A wonderful woman is my mother; but she knew -we had need of her, and she came none too soon. I -opened the door to her myself;” and Don Rafael hastened -to his own apartments, where it was understood Doña -Rita his wife hourly awaited the pangs of motherhood, -and left Pedro gazing after him in open-mouthed -astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the first place nothing had been heard of the probability -of the return of Doña Feliz; in the second, the -manner of her return was unprecedented. She was a -woman of some consequence at the hacienda. It was an -almost incredible thing that under any circumstances she -should arrive unexpectedly at the diligence post, and ride -a league upon a donkey’s back like the wife of a laborer. -And thirdly it was a miracle that he Pedro had himself -gone to Mass that morning,—he could not remember how -it had come about,—and that discovering his absence from -the gate Don Rafael had himself performed his functions, -and had not soundly rated him for his unseasonable devotion; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>for Don Rafael was not a man to confound the -claims of spiritual and secular duties.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro Gomez did not put the matter to himself in precisely -these words; nevertheless it haunted and puzzled -him, and kept him in an unusual state of abstraction,—which -perhaps accounted for the fact that later in the day, -just at high-noon, when the men were afield and the women -busy in their huts, and Pedro had ample leisure for -his siesta, he was suddenly aroused by a voice that seemed -to fall from the skies. Springing to his feet, he almost -struck against a powerful black horse, which was reined -in the doorway; and dazzled by the sun, and confused by -the unexpected encounter, he gazed stupidly into the face -of a man who was bending toward him, his broad hat -pushed back from a mass of coal-black hair, his white -teeth exposed by the laugh that lighted up his whole face -as he exclaimed,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Here, brother! here is a good handful for thee! I -found it on the road yonder. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> my horse nearly -stepped on it! Do people in these parts scatter such -seeds about? I fancy the crop would be but a poor one if -they did, and I saw a good growth of little ones in the village -yonder. Well, well! I have no use for such treasure; -I freely bestow it on thee,”—and with a dexterous movement -the stranger placed a bundle, wrapped in a tattered -scarf, in the hands of the astounded Pedro, and without -waiting question or thanks, whichever he might have -expected, put spurs to his horse and galloped across -the dusty plain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Twice that day had Pedro Gomez been left, as he -would have said, open-mouthed. Almost unconscious of -what he did, he stood there watching the cloud of dust in -which the horse and rider disappeared, until he felt himself -pulled by the sleeve, and a sharp voice asked, “In -the name of the Blessed, Tio, what have you there? -Ay, Holy Babe! it is a child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>A faint cry from the bundle confirmed these words; a -tiny pink fist thrust out gave assurance to the eyes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro Gomez, strong man as he was, trembled in every -limb, and sank on a seat breathless; but even in his -agitation he resisted the efforts of his niece to unwrap -the child.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>“Let it be,” he said; “I will myself look at this gift -which the Saints have sent me.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>With trembling hands he undid its wrappings. The babe -was crying lustily; red, grimacing, struggling, it was still -a pretty child,—a girl only a few days old. Around its -neck, under the little dress of white linen, was a silken -cord. Pedro drew it forth, certain of what he should -find. Florencia pounced upon the blue reliquary eagerly. -“Let us open it,” she said; “perhaps we shall find something -to tell us where the babe comes from, and whose -it is.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Nonsense!” said Pedro, decidedly; “what should we -find in it but scraps of paper scribbled with prayers? And -who would open a reliquary?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Florencia looked down abashed, for she was a good -daughter of the Church, and had been taught to reverence -such things.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no, girl! run to the village and bring a woman -who can nourish this starving creature;” and as the girl -flew to execute her commission, Pedro completed his examination -of the child.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was clothed in linen, finer than rancheros use even in -their gala attire, and the red flannel with white spots, -called <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">bayeta</span></i>, was of the softest to be procured; but beyond -this there was nothing to indicate the class to which -the child belonged. Upon a slip of paper pinned to its -bosom was written the name <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Maria Dolores</span></i> (what more -natural than that such a child should bear the name, and -be placed under the protection of the Mother of Sorrows?), -and upon the reverse was “Señora Doña Isabel -Garcia.” Was this to commend the waif to the care or -attention of that powerful lady? Pedro rather chose to -think it a warning against her. “What! place the bird -before the hawk?” With a grim smile he thrust the paper -into his bosom. Doña Isabel was he knew not where,—later -would be time enough to think of her; meanwhile, -here were all the women and children, all the old men, -and halt and lame of the village, trooping up to see this -waif, which in such an unusual manner had been dropped -into the gate-keeper’s horny palms.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Some of the women laughed; all the men joked Pedro -when they saw the child, though a yellow nimbus of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>hair around its head and the fineness of its clothing -puzzled them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro had hastily thrust the slip of paper into his -breast, scarce knowing why he did so; for though some -instinct as powerful as if it were a living voice that spoke, -urged him to secrete the child, to rush away with it into -the fastnesses of the mountains, rather than to render it -to Doña Isabel, he did not doubt for a moment that she -herself had provided for its mysterious appearance at the -hacienda, that it might be received as a waif, and cared -for by Doña Feliz as her representative.</p> - -<p class='c001'>These thoughts flashed through his mind, and he heard -again Herlinda’s despairing cry: “Watch for my child! -Protect it! protect it!” Was it possible that she had -actually known that this disposition would be made of her -child? Involuntarily his arms closed around it, and he -clasped it to his broad breast, looking defiantly around.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tush, Pedro, give it to me!” cried one stout matron, -longing to take the little creature to her motherly breast. -“What know you of nursing infants? A drop of mother’s -milk would be more welcome to it than all thy dry hugs. -Ah, here comes the Señor Administrador,” and the crowd -opened to admit the passage of Don Rafael, who attracted -by the commotion had hastened to the spot in -no small anger, ordering the crowd to disperse; but he -was greeted with an incomprehensible chorus of which -he only heard the one word “baby,” and exclaimed -in indignation,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And is this the way to show your delight, when the -poor woman is at the point of death perhaps? Get you -gone, and it will be time enough to make this hubbub -when it comes.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The women burst out laughing, the men grinned from -ear to ear, and the children fell into ecstasies of delight. -Don Rafael was naturally thinking of the expected addition -to his own family, and was enraged at what he supposed -to be a premature manifestation of sympathy. Pedro -alone was grave, and stepping back pointed to the infant, -which was now quiet upon the bosom of Refugio, her volunteer -nurse. “This is the child they speak of, Señor,” -he said, and in a few words related the manner in which -it had been delivered to him.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>If he had expected to see any consciousness or confusion -upon the face of Don Rafael, he must certainly have -been disappointed, for there was simply the frankest and -most perfect amazement, as he turned to the woman who -had stepped out a little from the crowd and held the -infant toward him. He saw at a glance that it was no -Indian child,—the whiteness of its skin, the fineness of its -garments, above all the yellow nimbus of hair, already -curling in tiny rings around the little head, struck him -with wonder. He crossed himself, and ejaculated a pious -“Heaven help us!” and touched the child’s cheek with -the tip of his finger, and turned its face from its nurse’s -dusky breast in a very genuine amaze, which Pedro -watched jealously. The child cried sleepily, and nestled -under the reboso which the woman drew over it, hushing -it in her arms, murmuring caressingly, as her own child -tugged at her skirts,—“There, there, sleep little one, -sleep! nothing shall harm thee; sleep, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Chinita</span></i>, sleep!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the little waif—whose soft curls had suggested the -pet name—was not yet to slumber; for at that moment -Doña Feliz appeared. Pedro noticed as she crossed the -courtyard that she was extremely pale. Some of the -women rushed toward her with voluble accounts of the -beauty of the child and the fineness of its garments. She -smiled wearily, and turned from them to look at the foundling. -A flush spread over her face as she examined it, not -reddening but deepening its clear olive tint. She looked at -Rafael searchingly, at Pedro questioningly. He muttered -over his thrice-told tale. “Was there no word, no paper?” -she said, but waited for no answer. “This is no plebeian -child, Rafael. What shall we do with it? Doña Isabel -is not here, perhaps will not be here for years!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was a buzz of astonishment, for this was the -first intimation of Doña Isabel’s intended length of -absence. In the midst of it Pedro had taken the -sleeping child from Refugio’s somewhat reluctant arm, -and wrapping it in a scarf taken from his niece’s -shoulders, had laid it on the sheepskin in the alcove in -which he usually slept. This tacit appropriation perhaps -settled the fate of the infant; still Doña Feliz looked at -her son uneasily, and he rubbed his hands in perplexity. -“Of all the days in the year for a babe like this to be left -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>here,” he said, “when, the Saints willing, I am to have -one of my own! No, no, mother, Rita would never -consent.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Consent to what?” she answered almost testily. -“What! Because this foundling chances to be white, -would you have your wife adopt it as her own, when after -so many years of prayer Heaven has sent her a child? -No, no, Rafael, it would be madness!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There is no need,” interpolated Pedro, with a half-savage -eagerness, and with a look which, strangely combined -of indignation and relief, should have struck dumb -the woman who thus to the mind of the gate-keeper was -revealed as the incarnation of deceit,—“there is no need. -I will keep the child; ‘without father or mother or a dog -to bark for me,’ who can care for it better? Here are -Refugio and Teresa and Florencia will nurse it for me. -It will want for nothing.” A chorus of voices answered him: -“We will all be its mother.”—“Give it to me when it -cries, and I will nurse it.”—“The Saints will reward -thee, Pedro!”—in the midst of which, in answer to a call -from above, Doña Feliz hastened away, saying, “Nothing -could be better for the present. Come, Rafael, you are -wanted. I will write to Doña Isabel, Pedro; she will -doubtless do something when you are tired of it. There -is, for example, the asylum at Guanapila.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro gazed after her blankly. In spite of that momentary -flush on the face, Doña Feliz had seemed as open -as the day. He never ceased thereafter to look upon -her in indignant admiration and fear. Her slightest -word was like a spell upon him. Pedro was of a mind to -propitiate demons, rather than worship angels. There -was something to his mind demoniacal in this Doña -Feliz.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Half an hour after she had ascended the stairs, and the -idlers had dispersed to chatter over this event, leaving the -new-found babe to its needed slumber, the woman who -acted the part of midwife to Doña Rita ran down to the -gate where Pedro and his niece were standing, to tell them -that there was a babe, a girl, born to the wife of the -administrador. A boy, who was lounging near, rushed -off to ring the church bell, for this was a long-wished-for -event; but before the first stroke fell on the air, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>the voice of Doña Feliz was heard from the window: -“Silence! Silence! there are two. No bells, no bells!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Two! Doña Rita still in peril! The midwife rushed -back to her post. The door was locked, and there was a -momentary delay in opening it. “Where have you been,” -said Doña Feliz severely, “almost a half an hour away?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The woman stared at her in amaze,—the time had -flown! Yes, there was the evidence,—a second infant in -the lap of Doña Feliz, puny, wizened. She dressed it -quickly, asking no assistance, ordering the woman sharply -to the side of Doña Rita.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“A thousand pities,” said Don Rafael as he looked at -it, “that it is not a boy!” Then as the thought struck -him, he laughed softly: “Ay, perhaps it is for luck,—instead -of the three kings, who always bring death, we -have the three <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Marias</span></i>.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita had heard something of the foundling, and -smiled faintly. “Thank God they were not all born of -one mother,” she said. “Ay! give me my first-born -here;” and with the tiny creature resting upon her arm, -and the second presently lying near, Doña Rita sank to -sleep.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Though the three Marias, as Don Rafael had called -them, thus entered upon life, or at least into that of the -hacienda of Tres Hermanos, almost simultaneously, except -at their baptism they found nothing in common. On that -occasion, a few days later than that of which we have -written, the aged priest, in the name of the Trinity, -severally blessed Fiorentina, Rosario, and Dolores,—each -name as was customary being joined to that -of the virgin Queen of Heaven; but as they left the -church their paths separated as widely as their stations -differed. Dolores, for whom in vain—were it designed to -subdue or chasten her—was chosen so sad a name, was -taken to the dusky little hut, a few rods from the gate, -that was, when he chose to claim it, Pedro’s home, and -there cared for by his niece Florencia with an uncertain -and somewhat fractious tenderness, and nourished at the -breast of whomsoever happened to be at hand. She -passed through babyhood, losing her prettiness with the -golden tinge of her hair, and as she grew older looking -with wide-opened eyes out from a tangle of dark elf-locks, -which explained the survival of her baby pet-name -Chinita, or “little curly one.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile the two children at the great house were -seldom seen below stairs, so cherished and guarded was -their infancy. Rosario grew a sturdy, robust little creature, -with straight shining brown hair, drawn back, as soon -as its length would permit, from her clear olive temples, -in two tight braids, leaving prominent the straight dark -eye-brows that defined her low forehead. Long curling -lashes shaded her large black eyes,—true Mexican eyes, -in which the vivacity of the Spaniard and the dreamy -indolence of the Aztec mingled, producing in youth a -bewitching expression perhaps unequalled in any other -admixture of races. She had, too, the full cheeks, of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>which later in life the bones would be proved too high, -and the slightly prominent formation of jaw, where the -lips, too full for beauty, closed over perfect teeth of dazzling -whiteness. Rosario was indeed a beauty, according -to the standard of her country; and Florentina so closely -followed the same type, that she should have been the -same, but there was a certain lack of vividness in her -coloring which beside her sister gave her prettiness the -appearance of a dimly reflected light. Rosario was strong, -vivid, dominant; Florentina, sweet, unobtrusive, spirituelle,—though -they had no such fine word at Tres -Hermanos for a quality they recognized, but could not -classify; and so it came about, as time went on, and -Rosario romped and played and was scolded and kissed, -reproved and admired, that Florentina grew like a fragrant -plant in the corner of a garden, which receives, it is true, -its due meed of dew and sunshine, but is unnoticed, either -for praise or blame, except when some chance passer-by -breathes its sweet perfume, and glances down in wonder, -as sometimes strangers did at Florentina. In the family, -ignoring the fine name they had chosen for her, they -called her little “snub-nose,”—Chata,—not reproachfully, -but with the caressing accent which renders the nicknames -of the Spanish untranslatable in any other tongue.</p> - -<p class='c001'>So time passed on until the children were four years -old. The little Chinita made her home at the gateway -rather than at the hut with Florencia, who by this time -had married and had children of her own, and indeed -felt no slight jealousy at the open preference her uncle -showed for his foundling. For Pedro was a man of no -vices, and his food and clothing cost him little; so in some -by-corner a goodly hoard of sixpences and dollars was -accumulating, doubtless, for the ultimate benefit of the -tiny witch who clambered on his knees, pulled his hair, -and ate the choicest bits from his basin unreproved; who -thrust out her foot or her tongue at any of the rancheros -who spoke to her, or with equally little reason fondled and -kissed them; and who at the sight of the administrador -or clerk or Doña Feliz, shrank beneath Pedro’s striped -blanket, peeping out from its folds with half-terrified, half-defiant -eyes, which softened into admiration as Doña Rita -and her children passed by.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>They also in their turn used to look at her with wonder, -she was so different from the score or more of half-naked, -brown little figures that lolled on the sand or in the doorways -of the huts, or crept in to Mass to stare at them with -wide-opened black eyes. They used to pass these very -conscious of their stiffly-starched pink skirts, their shining -rebosos, and thin little slippers of colored satin. But -though this wild little elf crouching by Pedro’s side was -as dirty and as unkempt as the other ranchero children, -they vaguely felt that she was a creature to talk to, to -play with, not to dazzle with Sunday finery,—for even so -young do minds begin to reason.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As for Chinita, after the rare occasions when she saw -the children of the administrador, she tormented Pedro -with questions. “What sort of a hut did they live in? -What did they eat? Where did their pretty pink dresses -come from?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>This last question Pedro answered by sending by the -first woman who went to the next village for a wonderful -flowered muslin, in which to her immense delight Chinita -for a day glittered like a rainbow, but which the dust and -grime soon reduced to a level with the more sombre tatters -in which she usually appeared. When these were at -their worst, Doña Feliz sometimes stopped a moment to -look at her and throw a reproving glance at Pedro; but she -never spoke to him of the child either for good or ill.</p> - -<p class='c001'>One day, however,—it was the day, they remembered -afterward, on which the Padre Francisco celebrated Mass -for the last time,—the two little girls accompanied by -their mother and followed by their nurse went to the -church in new frocks of deep purple, most wonderful to -see. Chinita could not keep her eyes off them, though -Rosario frowned majestically, drawing her black eyebrows -together and even slyly shaking a finger half covered with -little rings of tinsel and bright-colored stones. But the -other child, the little Chata, covertly smiled at her as she -half guiltily turned her gaze from the saint before whose -shrine she was kneeling; and that smile had so much of -kindliness, curiosity, invitation in it that Chinita on the -instant formed a desperate resolution, and determined at -once to carry it through.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Now, it had happened that from her earliest infancy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>Pedro had forbidden her to be taken, or later to go, into the -court upon which the apartments of the administrador -opened. Everywhere else,—even into the stables where -the horses and mules, for all Pedro’s confidence, might -have kicked or trodden her; to the courtyard where the -duck-pond was; to the kitchen, where more than once she -had stumbled over a pot of boiling black beans—anywhere, -everywhere, might she go except to the small court which -lay just back of the principal and most extensive one. -How often had Chinita crossed the first, and in the very -act of peeping through the doorway of the second had been -snatched back by Pedro and carried kicking and screaming, -tugging at his black hair and beard, back to the snake-hung -vestibule to be terrified by some grim tale into submission; -or on occasion had even been shut up in the hut -to nurse Florencia’s baby,—if nursing it could be called, -where the heavy, fat lump of infant mortality was set upon -the ragged skirt of the other rebellious infant, to pin her to -her mother earth. Florencia perhaps resented this mode -of punishment more than either of the victims, for they began -with screams and generally ended by amicably falling -asleep,—the straight coarse locks of the little Indian mingling -with the brown curls, still tinged with gold and reddened -at the tips by the sun, of the fairer-skinned girl.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Upon this day, Chinita in her small mind resolved there -should be no loitering at the doorway; and scarcely had -the two demure little maidens passed into the inner court -and followed their mother up the stairway, when she darted -in and looked eagerly around. There was nothing terrible -there at all,—an open door upon the lower floor showing -the brick floor of a dining-room, where a long table set for -a meal stood, and a boy was moving about in sandalled feet -making ready for the mid-day dinner. There was a great -earthen jar of water sunk a little in the floor of a far corner, -and some chairs scattered about. A picture of the -Virgin of Guadalupe, under which was a small vessel of -holy water, met her eyes as she glanced in. She turned -away disappointed and went to another door, that of a sitting-room, -as bare and uninviting as the dining-room, but -with an altar at one end, above which stood a figure of -Mary with the infant Jesus in her arms. Even the saints -in the church were not so gorgeous as this. Chinita gazed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>in admiration and delight; if she could have taken the -waxen babe from the mother’s arms she would have sat -down then and there in utter absorption and forgetfulness. -As it was, she crossed herself and ran out among the flower-pots -in the courtyard and anxiously looked up. Yes, -there leaning over the railings of the corridor were those -she sought. At sight of her Rosario screamed with delight, -her budding aristocratic scruples yielding at once to -the charms of novelty. Chata waved her hand and smiled, -both running eagerly to descend the stairs and grasp their -new play-fellow.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What is your name?” asked both in a breath. “Why -are you always with Pedro, at the gate? Who is your -mother, and why have you got such funny hair? Who -combs it for you? Doesn’t it hurt?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita answered this last question with a rueful grimace, -at the same time putting one dirty little finger on -Rosario’s coral necklace,—a liberty which that damsel resented -with a sharp slap, which was instantly returned with -interest, much to Rosario’s surprise and Chata’s dismay.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At the cry which Rosario uttered, following it up with -sobs and lamentations, both Doña Feliz and Doña Rita -appeared. Rosario flew to her mother. “Oh, the naughty -cat! the bad, wicked girl! she scratched me! she slapped -me!” she cried, between her sobs.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata followed her sister, still keeping Chinita’s hand, -which she had caught in the fray. “Poor Rosario! poor -little sister,” she said pityingly; “but, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Mamacita</span></i>, just -look where Rosa slapped the poor pretty Chinita,” and she -softly smoothed the cheek which Chinita sullenly strove to -turn away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Why, it is that wretched little foundling of Pedro’s!” -cried Doña Rita, indignantly, as she wiped Rosario’s -streaming cheeks. “Get you gone, you fierce little tigress! -Chata, let go her hand; she will scratch you, she -may bite you next.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh, no,” cooed Chata, quite in the ear of the ragged -little fury beside her; while Doña Feliz, who had been -silent, placed her fingers under the chin of the little waif, -and lifted her face to her gaze. “Be not angry at a -children’s quarrel,” she said; “they will be all the better -friends for it later.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>“But I don’t wish them to be friends,” cried Doña -Rita,—though the absolute separation of classes rendered -intimate association possible and common between them -which neither detracted from the dignity of the one caste, -nor was likely to arouse emulation in the other. “What a -wild, savage little fox! No, no, my lamb, she shall not -come near thee again!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the mother’s lamb was of another mind, for suddenly -she stopped crying, pulled the new-comer’s ragged -skirt, and said, “Come along, I’ll show you my little -fishes;” and in another moment, to Doña Rita’s amazement -and Doña Feliz’s quiet amusement, the three children -were leaning together, chatting and laughing, over -the edge of the stone basin in the centre of the court.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the midst of their play, a sudden fancy seized Doña -Feliz. Catching up a towel that lay at hand, she half-playfully, -half-commandingly caught the elf-like child and -washed her face. What a smooth soft skin, what delicately -pencilled brows appeared! how red was the bow of -that perfect little mouth! Doña Rita sighed for very -envy; Doña Feliz held the little face in her hands, and -looked at it intently. But Chinita, already rebellious at -the water and towel, absolutely resented this; and in spite -of the cries of the children she broke away and ran from -the courtyard, arriving breathless at the knees of Pedro, -to cover herself with the grimy folds of his blanket.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Little by little he drew from her what had passed, comforting -her though he made no audible comment; and an -hour later Doña Feliz, catching sight of the child, wondered -how it had been possible for her to get her face so dirty in -so short a time, though a suspicion of the truth soon caused -her to smile gravely. While Chinita had been telling her -adventures, Pedro had drawn his grimy fingers tenderly -over her cheeks, in this way at once resenting Doña Feliz’s -interference, curiosity, interest, whatever it was, and manifesting -his sympathy with the aggrieved one. Nor did he -scold the child for her intrusion to the court, or forbid her -to go again; and when after some days of hesitation, anger, -and irresistible attraction she found her way thither, -she wore on her neck a string of coral beads which made -Rosario cry out with envy, and which Chata regarded -with wide-eyed and solemn admiration.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>The acquaintance thus unpromisingly begun among the -three children grew apace. At first, Chinita’s visits were -as infrequent as Pedro’s watchfulness and Doña Rita’s antipathy -to the foundling could render them, although neither -openly interfered,—Pedro, for reasons best known to himself, -and Doña Rita out of respect to her mother-in-law, -who she saw, in her undemonstrative and quiet way, seemed -inclined to regard the child with an interest differing from -that with which she favored the children of the herdsmen -and laborers. Doña Feliz seldom gave Chinita anything, -even in the way of sweets, with which on special festival -days she sometimes regaled the others; but in the chill -days of the rainy season, or when the norther blew, she it -was who chid her if she ran barefooted across the courts, -or left her shoulders and head uncovered, and who set all -the children to string wonderful beads of amber and red -and yellow, placing the painted gourd which contained them -close to the brasier of glowing coals, so that the shivering -little creature might benefit by its warmth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Not that the waif was neglected, according to the customs -of Pedro’s people,—indeed he was lavish to her of -all sorts of rural finery. But where all children ran barefoot, -where none wore more clothing than a chemise, a -skirt, and the inevitable reboso (a long striped scarf of -flexible cotton), and in a clime where this was usually -more than sufficient for protection, it did not occur either -to Florencia or Pedro to provide more against those few -bitter days, when it seemed quite natural to shiver, perhaps -grow ill, and to mutter against the bad weather; and -so, very often the child he would have given his life to -shelter had run a thousand risks of wind and weather, -which custom had inured her to, and a robust constitution -defied.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Still Chinita was glad of shelter and warmth, though -like others, she bore the lack of them stoically, and at first -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>in the bad weather went to the administrador’s for such -comforts, as much as from the attraction which Rosario’s -spiteful fondness and Chata’s soft friendliness offered; -while so it chanced that she was suffered to go and come as -the dogs did, sometimes caressed, sometimes greeted with -a sharp word, often enough unnoticed except by Chata, -who looked for the visit each day, never forgetting to save -in anticipation a tiny bit of the preserved fruit she had been -given at dinner, or a handful of nuts. These offerings of -affection often proved efficacious in soothing the irritation -caused by Rosario’s uncertain moods. Yet it was to -Rosario that this perverse little creature attached herself; -with her she romped, and chased butterflies in the garden; -with her she laughed and quarrelled; and Chata looked on -the two with a precocious benignity pretty to see, leaning -often upon Doña Feliz’s lap, and, with a quaint little way -she had, smoothing down with one little finger the tip of -her tiny nose which obstinately turned skyward, giving -just the suggestion of sauciness to features which otherwise -would have been inanely uncharacteristic.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita was of opinion that all that was necessary in -the education of girls was to teach them to hem so neatly -that the stitches should not show in the finest cambric, -and to make conserves of various sorts,—adding, by way -of accomplishment, instruction in the drawing of threads -and the working of insertions in many and quaint designs, -or the modelling of fruits and figures in wax, to be used -in the wonderful mimic representation of the scene of the -birth of the Saviour made at Christmas. But Doña Feliz -held more liberal views, and much as she esteemed accomplishments, -considered them of inferior value to the arts of -reading and writing, which she had herself acquired with -infinite difficulty, at the pain of disobedience to well-beloved -parents.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Reading and writing, according to Feliz’s father, were -inventions of the arch-enemy, dangerous to men, and fatal -to the weaker sex. What could a woman use writing for, -asked he, but to correspond with lovers,—when she should -only know of the existence of such beings when one was -presented as her future husband, by a wise and discreet -father. What could a woman desire to read but her -prayers?—and those she should know by heart. In vain, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>therefore, had been Feliz’s appeal to be taught to read -and write. At last she and the Señorita Isabel had puzzled -out the forbidden lore together, both copying portions of -stolen letters, or the crabbed manuscripts in which special -prayers to patron saints were written, thus acquiring an -exquisite <a id='corr77.6'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='sic: calligraphy'>caligraphy</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_77.6'><ins class='correction' title='sic: calligraphy'>caligraphy</ins></a></span>, and learning the meanings of words -as they noticed them appear and reappear in the copies of -prayers they knew by heart. By a similar process the -art of reading printing was acquired,—all in secret, all -with trembling and fear. Isabel, much assisted by Feliz, -who was older and had sooner begun her task, had successfully -concealed her knowledge until it could be revealed -with safety; and great was the indignation and -surprise of Feliz’s father, when on her wedding day the -bride took up the pen and signed her marriage contract, -instead of affixing the decorous cross which had been expected -of her,—while the groom, too, was perhaps not -over pleased to find himself the husband of a wife of such -high acquirements.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But these acquirements, added to her natural penetration, -had been powerful factors in the life of Doña Feliz. -Her husband had been weak and inefficient, yet had through -her tact retained throughout his life the management of the -Garcia estates: in which he had been succeeded by his son, -a man of more character, which perhaps the preponderating -influence of his mother as much overshadowed as it had -sustained and lent a deceptive brilliancy to that of his -father, who, like many a man who goes to his grave respected -and admired, had shone from a reflected light as -unsuspected and unappreciated as it was unobtrusive -and unfaltering.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz had all her life, in her quiet, self-assured -way, ruled in her household,—in her husband’s time because -he had accepted her opinions and acted upon them, -unconscious that they were not his own; while now by her -son she was deferred to from the habitual respect a Mexican -yields to his mother, and from the steadfast admiration -with which from infancy he had recognized her talents. -Thus, it is not an exaggeration to say that Don Rafael, -whatever might have been his temptations to do otherwise, -invariably identified himself in thought as well as act with -the mother to whom he felt he owed all that was strong -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>or fortunate or to be desired, not only in his station, but -in mind or person. Therefore it was not to be expected -that he would interfere when Doña Rita complained to him -that his mother made Rosario cry by keeping her poring -over the mysteries of the alphabet, and that Chata inked -her fingers and frocks over vain endeavors to form the bow-letters -at a required angle, and that both would be better -employed with the needle. And indeed Don Rafael -thought it a pretty sight, when he came upon his mother -seated in her low chair, with the two sisters before her, -Rosario’s mouth forming a fluted circle as she ejaculated -“Oh!” in a desperate attempt at “O,” and Chata following -the lines painfully with one fat forefinger, her eyes -almost touching the book,—no dainty primer with prettily -colored pictures, but a certain red-bound volume -of “Letters of a Mother,” containing advice and admonition -as alarming as the long and abstruse words in which -they were conveyed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With all her inattention and impatience, Rosario learned -her tasks with a rapidity which roused the pride of her -mother’s heart; but Chata, in those early years, stumbled -wofully on the road to learning. At lesson-time Chinita, -not a whit less grimy than of old, used to hasten to crouch -down behind her victimized little patroness, and sometimes -whisper impatiently in her ear, sometimes give her a sly -tweak of the hair, when her impatience grew beyond -bounds, and at others vociferate the word with startling -force and suddenness; until one day it occurred to Doña -Feliz, who had made no effort to teach her anything, and -had often been oblivious of her very presence, that this -little elf-locked rancherita was her aptest pupil. That day, -when the others unwillingly seated themselves to their -copy-books, she watched the gate-keeper’s child, and saw -her write the words she had set for her little pupils upon -the brick floor with a piece of charcoal taken from the -kitchen, then covertly wipe them off with the hem of her -skirt.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz was touched. Here was a child of five -doing what she herself at fifteen had painfully acquired. -She did not pause to think that what with her had been -the result of deep thought, was here but parrot-like -though effective imitation. She took away the charcoal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>from the child’s blackened fingers, bade her stand at the -table, and gave her pen and ink.</p> - -<p class='c001'>After the lesson Chinita flew rather than ran across the -court, leaving Rosario and Chata astounded and offended -that she would not play, and thrust into Pedro’s hand a -piece of dirty paper covered with cabalistic characters. She -had already confided to him that she could read, and had -even once spelled out to him a scrap of printed paper -which had come in his way, amazing him by her knowledge; -but now that she could write, a veritable superstitious -awe of this elfish child befell him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That evening Pedro stole into the church, and lighted -two long candles before the image of the Virgin. Were -they an offering of thanks for a miracle performed, or a -bribe against evil? The man went back to his post -thoughtful, his breast swelling with pride, his head bowed -in apprehension. He never had heard that those the gods -love die young, yet something of such a fear oppressed -him,—though as he found Chinita in flagrant disgrace with -Florencia because she had drunk the last drop of thin corn-gruel -which the woman had saved for her uncle’s supper, -he had reasonable ground for believing that the healthful -perversity of her animal spirits and moral nature might -counteract the malefic effect of mental precocity; and as he -was thirsty that night, so might have been interpreted the -muttered “A dry joke this!” with which he looked into -the empty jar, and swallowed his tough tortillas and goatmilk -cheese.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay! but Florencia is cross to poor Chinita,” whispered -this astute little damsel, seizing the opportunity to -creep up behind him when he was not looking, of stealing -a brown arm around his neck, and interposing her shock -of curls between his mouth and the morsel he destined for -it. “Who has poor Chinita to love her but Pedro, good -Pedro?” And so Pedro’s anger was charmed away, even -as he thought evil might be turned from his wilful charge -by the faint glow of the two feeble candles he had lighted. -Were her coaxing ways as evanescent, as little to be relied -on, as their flicker? Ay, Chinita!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>These few years of which the flight has been thus briefly -noted, had wrought a subtle change in the appearance of -Tres Hermanos as well as in the life of its inhabitants. -Gradually there came over it that almost indescribable -suggestion of absenteeism which falls upon a dwelling -when there is death within, and which is wholly different -from the careless untidiness of a house temporarily closed. -True, there was movement still at Tres Hermanos,—people -came and went, the fields were tilled, the herds of -horses roamed upon the hillside, the cattle lowed in the -pastures, the village wore its accustomed appearance of -squalid plenty, the children played at every doorway, the -same numbers of heavily-laden mules passed in at the -house-gates, the granaries were as richly stored,—and yet, -even to the casual observer, there was a lack. At first, -one would attribute it wholly to the pile of deserted buildings -to the west. No smoke ever issued from the tall -stack of the reduction-works; the lizards ran unmolested -upon the walls, which already had crumbled in a place or -two, affording entrance to a few adventurous goats, which -browsed upon the herbage that sprang up in the court, and -even around the great stones in the reduction-sheds. But -turning the eyes from these, there was something desolate -in the appearance of the great house itself. The upper -windows opening upon the country were always closed, dust -gathered in the balcony where Doña Isabel had been wont -to stand, and a rose, which had long striven against neglect, -waved its slender tendrils disconsolately in the evening -breeze. Some one pathetically calls a closed window -the dropped eyelid of a house; and so seemed those barred -shutters of cedar, upon which beat the last rays of the -setting sun.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The great event of the American War had despoiled -Tres Hermanos of many of its young men. Others had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>from time to time been drawn into the broils that followed, -and which had been augmented by the dictatorship of -Santa Anna; yet the estate itself had escaped invasion. -Its great storehouses of grain remained intact, its fields -were untrodden by the horses of soldiery either hostile or -friendly; but a change menaced it,—a hoarse murmur as -of the sea seemed to gather and break against the bulwark -of mountains that environed it. News of the great events -of the day penetrated the remote valley, and with them -vague apprehensions and disquiet. Even the laborers in the -fields felt the oppression of the storm which was raging -without, and which threatened to break upon them. Their -hearts quaked; they knew not what an hour might bring -forth. For the first time they realized that the great events -which had been transpiring, and were still in progress -beyond their cordon of hills, meant more to them than -food for gossip, or an attraction to some idle boy to whom -army life meant a frolic and freedom from work.</p> - -<p class='c001'>These events had followed one another in such rapid -succession, and were seemingly so contradictory, that to -the onlooker they appeared irrational, childish, even traitorous. -But in truth they were the vague, blind outstretchings -of a people groping for self-government, for a liberty -and peace which they were both by nature and training -as yet unprepared to enjoy. The thraldom of Spain had -left them madly impatient of fetters, yet they clung to the -stake to which they had been chained. Were the prop -called King or President, an individual rather than abstruse -principles was demanded to uphold them. This it was -which in the chaos that followed the war with the United -States led them to recall the man whom they had exiled,—the -man who had failed them in their greatest need, yet -whose unaccountable ascendency over the minds of the -masses led them to turn to him again as a deliverer, and -whose triumphant march through the land intensified a -thousand times the prevailing misery. As one of the -historians of Mexico says of Santa Anna,—</p> - -<div class='quote'> - -<p class='c001'>“On his lips had been heard the words of brotherhood and -reconciliation. The majority had believed in them, because -they thought that in the solitude of exile the experience of -years and the spectacle of his afflicted country must have purified -and instructed the man. It is impossible to say whether -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>his was hypocrisy or a flash of good faith; but certain it is he -deceived those who believed, and silenced those who had no -faith in his words, and none can imagine the days of distress -and mourning which followed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“His term of office was to last a year; his promises were to -redeem his nation from the yoke of slavery, to announce a code -of wise and just measures which should insure its happiness and -prosperity. A hopeless task, perhaps, in the midst of a nation -distracted by years of foreign and civil wars; but at least an -attempt was possible. But when once the sweets of power were -tasted, all sense of honor and patriotism was lost in the intoxication -of personal ambition. Beguiled by promises of protection -of their interests, so often and so violently assailed by the -Liberal and Conservative parties, the clergy and their adherents -in all parts of the Republic secured the passage of an Act which -declared him perpetual ruler, with the title of Serene Highness, -with his will as his only law, and his caprices his only standard.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='c001'>Those not lost in the inconceivable stupor which the -deadly upas in their midst cast far and near, opened wide -eyes of amaze. A trumpet cry rang through the land! -Liberals and Conservatives, even the less bigoted of the -clerical party, sprang to arms. The entire nation, grieving -and reduced to misery by the loss of ninety thousand -men who had been dragged from their homes to support -the pomp and power of the tyrant, to become a prey upon -the land, and upon the helpless families of whom they -should naturally have been the support, had refused long -to be dazzled by the spectacle of military pomp, or to be -beguiled by the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">fiestas</span></i> and processions which in every -town and village made the administration one that appeared -a prolonged carnival and madness. These continued -insults to the public misery; the daily proscriptions -of men who dared to raise the voice or write a line against -the Dictator or his senseless policy; the oppressions of -the army; the cold, cruel, implacable espionage which made -life unendurable,—these wrought quickly their inevitable -consequences among a people accustomed to disorder and -revolutions, and who in their blind, irrational way longed -for liberty. Disgust and detestation of the dictatorship -became general. As suddenly as it had sprung into being -it was met and crushed. Rebellions sprang up on every -hand; the populace rose in mass; the statues of Santa -Anna were thrown down in the streets, his portraits stoned; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>the houses of his adherents were sacked, their carriages -destroyed. The popular fury culminated in the practical -measure of the promulgation of the plan of Ayutla, which -condemned to perpetual exile the ambitious demagogue who -had disappointed and betrayed all parties, mocking with -cruel levity his country’s woes, and which declared for the -establishment of a Republic based upon the broadest platform -of civil rights. Gomez Farias gave form to this act; -but Ignacio Comonfort became its soul when he proclaimed -it in Acapulco, and in the almost inaccessible recesses of -the South raised the standard of a rebellion, which rapidly -extending throughout the land hurled from its pedestal -the idol of clay, that for a brief moment had been taken -for gold, to place in its stead a new favorite.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Then another exile returned to his country, heralded -by neither trumpets nor acclamations. Calm, astute, -watchful, he took his place amid the revolutionary forces; -but without seeming effort, from a follower he became -a leader. His was the brain that was to develop from the -imperfect plan of Ayutla liberties more daring and precious -than men had learned to dream of to that hour. Comonfort -the last President was the figure toward which all eyes -turned; but behind him stood the quiet, insignificant -Indian, successful general now, Benito Juarez, shaping the -destinies of those who ignored or despised him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Comonfort was daring, impulsive, utterly devoid of -physical fear; a man of action, prone to plunge into -difficulties, yet ready to compromise where he could not -fight, antagonistic to the temporal power of the Church, -yet superstitiously bound by its traditions, he was at once -the initiator and the enemy of reform. Finding himself -in triumphant opposition to the clergy, he recklessly -attacked their most cherished institutions; to open a passage -for his troops he threw down their finest convent; -to pay his soldiery he levied upon their treasures. Yet -he trembled before their denunciations,—upon one day -sending the bishop into exile; on the next, he cowered before -the meanest priest who threatened him with the Virgin’s -ire. The terrors of excommunication unnerved him. -Scared by his own audacity; unable to quell the storm -he had roused; viewing with dismay the reaction that -his ill-considered boldness had created in the minds of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>a people dominated by ghostly fears, even while they -groaned under the material oppressions of priestcraft; led -beyond his depth by unscrupulous counsellors, or by those -who like Juarez had ideas beyond the epoch in which he -lived,—Comonfort, while he maintained a kingly state, -looked forth upon the new aspect of distraction which his -country wore, and vainly sought a method of compromise -to evoke order from chaos. He who had dared all physical -dangers shrank before a revolution of sentiment. His -vacillating demeanor—above all his conciliations of the -clergy whom he had so short a time before defied—awoke -distrust on every hand.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Such was the political aspect, so far as known at Tres -Hermanos, upon the eve when the first straggling band of -soldiery crossed the peaceful valley, and its doors opened -to receive the first of those armed guests, which in the -near future were to become so numerous and so dreaded.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In one far corner of the great house there was a little -balcony with its high iron railing; and behind it, scarce -reaching to its top, stood two children on tip-toe, looking -with wide eyes upon the glory of the purpling mountains, -and then with mundane curiosity dropping them upon the -more homely attractions within hearing as well as sight. -And upon that special afternoon in October these chanced -to be of a somewhat unusual character; for across the -plain rode one of those predatory bands, which in those -wild days sprang up like magic even in the most isolated -regions,—the arid mountains and the fertile plains alike -furnishing their quota of material, which blindly, ignorantly, -but for that none the less furiously, became sacrifices -to the ambition of a score or more contesting chiefs. -Yet amid the cupidity, unscrupulousness, and barbarity -of these chiefs still lingered the spirit of liberty, which -though drenched in blood, and bound down by ecclesiastical -as well as military despotism, was yet to rise triumphant, -perhaps after its years of long struggle stronger, purer, -holier than the world before had known it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But license rather than liberty seemed to animate those -wild spirits who, invigorated after a long day’s march by -the sight of a halting place, urged their steeds with wild -shouts and blows with the flat side of their sabres, as well -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>as with applications from their clanking spurs, across the -plain, where scattered at intervals might be seen the -laggards of the party, chiefly women, on mule or donkey -back, with their cooking implements hanging from the -panniers upon which they squatted in security and comfort, -nursing their babies or quieting the more fractious -older children, as the animals they rode paced quietly on -or broke into a jog-trot at their own wills.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was a cause of great excitement and delight to the -children in the balcony to see the soldiers—most of them -still arrayed in their ranchero dress of buff leather, but -some of them resplendent in blue-and-red cloth, with -stripes of gilt upon their arms and caps—stop at the huts -along the principal street or lane of the village, and -laughingly take possession, bidding Trinita and Francisca -and Florencia, and the rest of them, to go or stay as it -pleased them. Some of the women were frightened and -began to cry and bewail, but others found acquaintances -among the new arrivals; and there was much laughing and -talking, in the midst of which two personages who appeared -to be the leaders of the party, and who were followed by -a dozen or more companions and servants, rode up to the -hacienda gates, and one, scarcely pausing for an answer -from the astonished Pedro whom he saluted by name, -rode into the courtyard, whither he was followed by the -gate-keeper, who with stoical calm yet evident amazement -saluted him as Don Vicente; and holding his stirrup -as he dismounted added in a low voice,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The Saints defend us, Don Vicente! The sight of -you is like rain in May,—it will bless the whole year! -Heaven grant your followers leave untouched the harvest -of new maize! Don Rafael would go out of his senses if -it were broached and trampled on by this rabble,—begging -your Grace’s pardon a thousand times!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Vicente, as the young man was called, laughed as -he stamped his feet on the brick pavement until his spurs -and the chains and buttons on his riding suit clanked -again,—though he looked half sadly, half furtively around.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Have no fear, Pedro good friend, the men have their -orders. The General, José Ramirez, is not to be trifled -with;” and he glanced at his companion, a man older than -himself, but still in the prime of life, who had also dismounted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>and was shaking hands with Don Rafael, with many polite -expressions of pleasure at meeting the courageous and -prudent administrador of Tres Hermanos.</p> - -<p class='c001'>These compliments were returned with rather pallid -lips by Don Rafael, who however upon being recognized -by Don Vicente, who advanced to embrace him with the -cordiality of a friend, though with something of the condescension -of a superior, regained his composure with the -rapidity natural to a man who having fancied himself in -some peril finds himself under the protection of a powerful -and generous patron. He hastened in the name of Doña -Isabel to place everything the hacienda contained at the -disposal of the visitors, making a mental reservation of -the new maize and sundry fine horses that happened to be -in the courtyards.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita, who had pushed her way through the crowd of -children and half-grown idlers that had been attracted to -the court, and were gazing in silent and opened-mouthed -wonderment and admiration at the imposing personage -called the General José Ramirez, was so absorbed in the -contemplation of his half-military, half-equestrian bravery -of riding trousers of stamped leather trimmed with silver -buttons, and wide felt hat gorgeous with gold and silver -cords and lace, his epauletted jacket, and scarlet sash -bristling with silver-handled pistols and stilletto, that she -took no heed when a servant came to lead away the -charger upon which the object of her admiration had been -mounted, and so narrowly escaped being knocked down -and trampled upon.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Have a care thou!” cried Don Vicente, as he sprang -forward and clutched the child by the arm, drawing her out -of danger, while a score of voices—the General’s perhaps -the most indifferent among them—reiterated epithets -of abuse to the servant and admonition to the child. In -the midst of the commotion, Don Rafael conducted the -two officers to rooms which were hastily assigned them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As they disappeared, Chinita’s eyes followed them. She -was not especially grateful for her escape: it was not the -first time she had been snatched from beneath the feet of -a restive horse; the incident was natural enough to her, -and perhaps for this reason her rescuer was not specially -interesting to her mind. Somewhat to her disgust, an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>hour later, when she had managed to steal unobserved into -the supper-room, where she crouched in a corner, she saw -Rosario and Chata from their seats at their mother’s side -regarding the young officer with amiable smiles,—Rosario -with infantile coquetry, drooping her long lashes demurely -over her soft dreamy black eyes; and Chata, with her orbs -of a nondescript gray, frankly though coyly taking in every -detail of his face and dress, while they averted themselves -as if startled or repelled from the dark countenance of his -companion. It might have been thought that Doña Feliz -shared her dread, for more than once she looked at the -General with an expression of perplexity and aversion, as -he lightly entertained Doña Rita with an account of his -family and his own exploits,—topics strangely chosen -for a Mexican, but which seemed natural rather than -egotistical when lightly and wittily expatiated upon by -this gay soldier of fortune.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile, Don Vicente Gonzales was talking in a low -voice to Doña Feliz. He ate little and drank only some -water mixed with red wine, while Don Rafael and the -General Ramirez partook freely of more generous stimulants, -growing more talkative as the evening advanced; and at -last, as the ladies rose from the table, and Doña Rita went -with the children to the upper rooms, the two walked -away together to inspect the horses and talk of the grand -reforms initiated by Comonfort, which in reality had but -filled the country with discontent and bloodshed. The -poison of personal ambition was working in the new President -slowly—as it had done more rapidly in his renowned -predecessor Santa Anna—the change from the patriot to -the demagogue. He who had talked and worked and -fought for the liberties of Mexico, dallied with the chains -he should have broken.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XIV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>As Don Rafael in an unwonted state of complacency, -which drew the anxious eyes of his mother upon him, disappeared -with his jovial guest the General, the younger -officer, Don Vicente Gonzales, drew a long breath of relief, -and at a sign from Doña Feliz followed her to the -window, with the half-sombre, half-expectant air of one -who is about to speak of past events with an old and tried -friend; and throwing himself into a chair, he turned his -face toward her with the air and gesture which says more -plainly than words, “What have you to tell, or ask? -We are alone; let us exchange confidences.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>In truth they were not quite alone. Chinita had half-sulkily, -half-defiantly, crept after Doña Feliz, and had -sunk down in her usual crouching attitude within the -shadow of the wall. She would have preferred to follow -Don Rafael and the General in their rounds, but she knew -that was impracticable; Pedro would have stopped her -at the gate, and sent her to Florencia, or kept her close -beside him,—and so even the inferior pleasure of seeing -and listening to the less attractive stranger would have -been denied her. Chinita was an imaginative child; she -used sometimes to stand upon the balcony with Chata, -and gaze and gaze far away into the blue which seemed -to lie beyond the farthest hills, and wonder vaguely what -strange creatures lived there. Sometimes her wild imagination -pictured such uncouth monsters, such terrifying -shapes, that she herself was seized with nervous tremblings, -and Chata and Rosario would clasp each other and -cry out in fright; but oftener she peopled that world with -cavaliers such as she had occasionally seen, and stately -dames such as she imagined Doña Isabel and the niña -Herlinda must be,—for the accidental mention of those -names was as potent as would have been the smoke of -opium to fill her brain with dreams. By the sight of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>Don José Ramirez in his picturesque apparel, part of these -vague dreams seemed realized; and even the quiet figure -of Don Vicente and the sound of his stranger voice had -the charm of novelty. She placed herself where she could -best see his face, with infantile philosophy contenting herself -with the next best where the actual pleasure desired -was unattainable. She was very quiet, for she had naturally -the Indian stealthiness of movement, and she had -besides a vague instinct that her presence upon the corridor -might be forbidden. Still she did not feel herself -in any sense an intruder; she felt as a petted animal -may be supposed to do, that she had a perfect right in -any spot from which she was not driven.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But as Doña Feliz and the new-comer were long silent, -she became impatient, and half-resolved to settle herself -to sleep there and then. She had drawn her feet under -her, covering them with the ragged edges of her skirt, -and drawing her scarf over her head and shoulders, -tightly over the arms which clasped her knee, looked out -as from a little tent, and instead of sleeping became gradually -absorbed in the contemplation of the face and figure -which, when seen beside those of the dashing Ramirez, -had appeared gloomy and insignificant. The young man -was dressed in black; the close-fitting riding trousers, -the short round jacket, the wide hat, which now lay on the -ground beside him, being relieved only by a scanty supply -of silver buttons,—a contrast to the usual lavishness of a -young cavalier; and in its severe outlines and its expression -of gloom, his face, as he sat in the moonlight, was in -entire harmony with his dress. How rigid looked the -clear-cut profile against the dead whiteness of the column -against which it rested, his close-cropped head framed in -black, his youthful brow corrugated in painful thought. -Suddenly he lifted the dark eyes which had rested upon -Doña Feliz, and turned them on the fountain which -was splashing within the circle of flowering plants and -murmured:—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I feel as though in a dream. Is it possible I am here, -and she is gone, gone forever? How often I have seen -her by the side of the fountain, raising herself upon the -jutting stone-work to pluck the red geraniums and place -them in her hair! Even when I was a boy her pretty unstudied -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>ways delighted me,—and Herlinda as naturally as -she breathed acted her dainty coquetries. And to fancy -now that all that grace and beauty is lost to me, to the -world, forever! that she is sacrificed—buried!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He spoke bitterly and sighed, yet with that tone of -renunciation which more completely than to death itself, -marks the voices of the children of the Church of Rome -as they yield their loved ones to her cloisters. It was in -the voice of Doña Feliz, as she presently replied,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It seems indeed a strange destiny for so bright a life; -but against the call of religion we cannot murmur, Vicente. -Many and great have been the sins of the Garcias. May -Herlinda’s prayers, her vigils, her tears condone them!” -She crossed herself and sighed heavily.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I cannot accept even the inevitable so calmly,” cried -the young man in sudden passion. “I loved her from -a child; I never had a thought but for her! She was -promised me when we were boy and girl! She used to -tease me, saying she hated me, and then with a soft -glance of her dark eyes disarmed my anger. She would -thrust me from her with her tiny foot, and then draw me -to her with one slender finger hooked in the dangling -chain of a jacket button, and laughingly promise to be -good, breaking her word the next moment. She would -taunt me when I sprang toward her in alarm as she -leaped from the fountain parapet, and in turn would cry -out in agonies of fright as I hung from the highest boughs -of the garden trees, or when I dashed by her on the back -of a half-broken horse, stopping him or throwing him perhaps -on his haunches, with one turn of the cruel bit. -Through all her vagaries I loved her, and perhaps the -more because of them; and I fancied she loved me. Even -later, when she had grown more formal and I more ardent, -I believed that her coy repulses were but maiden arts to -win me on.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I always told Doña Isabel,” interrupted Feliz, “that -such freedom of intercourse between youth and maiden -would but lead to weariness on one side or the other. But -she was a hater of old customs. She said there was more -danger in two glances exchanged from the pavement and -the balcony than in hours of such youthful chat and -frolic.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>“Yet this freedom was designed to bind our hearts together,” -said Vicente. “The wish of Doña Isabel’s heart -for years was to see us one day man and wife. Yet she -changed as suddenly—more suddenly and completely -than Herlinda did. What is the secret? Is not Tres -Hermanos productive enough to provide dowers for two -daughters? Is all this to be centred on Carmen? Rich -men have immured their daughters in convents to leave -their wealth undivided. Can it be that Doña Isabel—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Be silent!” interrupted Doña Feliz, as she might -have done to a foolish child. “Let us talk no more of -Herlinda, Vicente; it makes my heart sore, and can but -torture thine.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, it relieves me; it soothes me,” cried Vicente. “I -have longed to come here to talk to you. Doña Isabel is -unapproachable. She has relapsed once more into the icy -impenetrability that characterized her in that terrible time -so many years ago. I can just remember—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let the dead rest,” cried Doña Feliz, sharply. “That -is a forbidden subject in Doña Isabel’s house. You are -her guest.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Vicente accepted the reproof with a shrug of his shoulders, -and Doña Feliz added, as if at once to turn his -thoughts and afford the sympathy he craved, “Talk to me -then, if you will, of Herlinda. Do you know where she -is now?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, in Lagos, in that dreariest of prisons the convent -of Our Lady of Tribulation. Think you Maria Santisima -can desire such scourgings, such long fastings, -such interminable vigils as they say are practised there? -God grant the scoffers are right, and that the reputed self-immolations -are but imaginings,—tales of the priests to -attract richer offerings to the Church shrine. When I saw -it, it was groaning beneath vessels of gold and silver and -wreaths of jewels. Oh, Feliz! Feliz! higher and heavier -than the treasures they pile on their altars are the woes -these monks and nuns accumulate upon our devoted -country!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz glanced around warily, but an expression of -genuine acquiescence gleamed from her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You are where I have always hoped to see you,” she -said in a low tone; “but beware of a too indiscriminate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>zeal. They say Comonfort himself has been too hasty, -must draw back—retract—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Retract!” cried Vicente. “Never! Down, I say, -with these tyrants in priestly garments,—these robbers in -the guise of saints! The land is overrun with them; their -dwellings rise in hundreds in the sunlight of prosperity, -and the hovels of the poor are covered in the darkness of -their oppressions. The finest lands, the richest mines, the -wealth of whole families have passed into their cunning -and grasping hands. There is no right, either temporal -or spiritual, but is controlled by them. Better let us be -lost eternally than be saved by such a clergy. What, -saved by bull-baiters, cock-fighters, the deluders of the -widow and orphan, the oppressors of the poor!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You are bitter and unjust,” interrupted Doña Feliz; -“remember, too, the base ministers of the Church take -nothing from the sanctity of her ordinances.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“So be it,” answered Vicente. “Perhaps,” he added, -with a short laugh, “you think I have lost my senses. -No, no; but my personal loss has quickened my sense of -public wrongs. In losing Herlinda, I lost all that held me -to the past,—old superstitions, old deceptions. The idle -boyish life died then, and up sprang the discontented, far-seeing, -turbulent new spirit which spurns old dogmas, -breaks old chains, and cries for freedom.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Vicente had risen to his feet; his face lighted with enthusiasm; -his pain was for a moment forgotten. The -listening child felt a glow at her heart, though his words -were as Greek to her. Doña Feliz thrilled with a purer, -more reasonable longing for that liberty which as a child -she had heard proclaimed, but which had flitted mockingly -above her country, refusing to touch its ground. Her -enthusiasm kindled at that of the young man, though -his sprung from bitterness. How many enthusiasms -own the same origin! Sweetness and content produce -no frantic dissatisfactions, no daring aims, no conquering -endeavors.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You belie yourself,” she said, after a pause. “It is -not merely the bitterness of your heart which has made -you a patriot. The needs, the wrongs, the aspirations of -the time have aroused you. Had Herlinda been yours, you -still must have listened to those voices. With such men -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>as you at his call, Comonfort should not falter. The cause -he espoused must triumph.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Humph!” muttered Vicente, doubtfully, while Feliz, -with a sudden qualm at her outspoken approbation of -measures subversive of an authority that her training had -made her believe sanctioned by heaven cried:—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ave Maria Santisima! what have I said? In blaming, -in casting reproach upon the clergy, am I not casting -mud upon our Holy Mother the Church?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Feliz!” cried Vicente, impatiently, “that question too -asks Comonfort. Such irrational fears as these are the real -foes of progress; and so deeply are old prejudices and superstitions -rooted, that they find a place in every heart; -no matter how powerful the intellect, how clear the comprehension -of the political situation, how scrupulous or -unscrupulous the conscience, the same ghostly fears hang -over all. What spells have those monks with their oppressions -and their shameless lives thrown over us that we -have been wax in their hands? Think of your own father,—a -man of parts, generous, lofty-minded, but a fanatic. -He shunned the monté table, the bull-fight, and all such -costly sports as the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">hacenderos</span></i> love; he almost lived in -the Church. But that could not keep misfortune from his -door: his cattle died; his horses were driven away in the -revolution; his fields were devastated; and he was forced -to borrow money on his lands. And to whom should he -look but the clergy,—who so eager to lend, who so suave -and kind as they? And when he was in the snare, who so -pitiless in winding it around and about him, strangling, -withering his life?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But, Vicente,” said Feliz, in a hard, embittered voice, -“in our lot there was a show of justice. If you would -have a more unmitigated use of pitiless craft, think of the -fate of your own cousin Inez.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The child within the shadow of the wall was listening -breathlessly. Her innate rebellion against all authority -made her quick to grasp the situation; a secret detestation -of the coarse-handed, loud-voiced village priest who -had succeeded Padre Francisco at Tres Hermanos quickened -her apprehension. She looked at Vicente with glistening -eyes. “Ah, well I remember poor Inez,” he said; -“forced by her father to become a nun, that at his death -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>he might win pardon for his soul by satisfying the greed of -his councillors, she implored, wept, raved, fell into imbecility, -and died; and her sad story, penetrating even the -thickness of convent walls, was blackened by the assertion -that she was possessed of devils foul and unclean,—she, -the whitest, purest soul that ever stood before the gates -of heaven.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>His voice choked; he was silent and sank again into his -chair. “And Comonfort,” he muttered presently, “strives -to conciliate wretches such as these. He is a man, Feliz, -who with all his courage believes a poor compromise better -than a long fight. Ah, the world believes Mexicans -savage, unappeasable, blood-thirsty. How can they be -otherwise with these blind leaders who precipitate them -into those ditches which they fondly hope will prove roads -to liberty and peace!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Feliz looked at him with disquietude. “What, Vicente,” -she said, “are you a man to be blown about by -every wind,—a mere ordinary revolutionist seeking a new -chief for each fresh battle?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Vicente flushed at the insinuation. “One cause and a -<em>thousand</em> chiefs if need be,” he said. “But there is now -a man in Mexico, Feliz, who must inevitably become the -head of this movement,—who, like the cause, will remain -the same through all mischances. To-day he is the friend -of Comonfort, but who knows? To-morrow—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“He may be his enemy,” ejaculated Feliz. “I wonder -if in all this land there can be found one man who can -be faithful!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“To-morrow,” said Vicente, completing his sentence, -“he may be the friend and leader of all the lovers of freedom -in Mexico; and if so, <em>my</em> leader. I have talked -with that man, and he sees to the farthest ramifications of -this great canker that is eating out the very vitals of our -land. You will hear of him soon, Feliz, if you have not -done so already. His name is Benito Juarez.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Feliz smiled. “What, that Indian?” she said. “It -is a new thing for a gentleman of pure Spanish blood to -choose such a leader. Ah, Vicente, you disappoint me! -It must be this Ramirez, who has in his every movement -the air of a guerilla, a free-fighter, who has infected -you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>“No,” answered Vicente, sullenly, “Ramirez has no influence -over me; only the fortune of war has thrown us -together,—a blustering fellow on the surface, but so deep, -so astute, that none can fathom him. He is not the man -I could make my friend.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Where does he come from?” asked Doña Feliz with -interest. “There is something familiar to me in his voice -or expression.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“A mere fancy on your part,” answered Vicente; “just -such a fancy as makes me glance at him sometimes as he -rides silent at my side, and with a sudden start clap my -hand upon my sword. I have an instinctive dread of him,—not -a fear, but such a dread as I have of a deadly reptile. -I wonder,” he added gloomily, “if it is to be my fate -to take his life.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Feliz shuddered. Chinita’s eyes flashed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And yet once I saved him, when we were fighting -against the guerillas of Ortiz. He was caught in a defile -of the mountains; four assailants dashed upon him at -once with exultant cries; and though he fought gallantly, -had I not rushed to the rescue he must have been killed -there. Together we beat the villains off, and he fancies -he owes me some thanks; and perhaps too I have some -kindness for the man I saved,—and yet there are times -when I cannot trust myself to look upon him.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Strange! strange indeed!” said Doña Feliz, musingly. -“I have heard his name before. Is he not the man who -stopped the train of wagons by which the merchants of -Guanapila were despatching funds to make their foreign -payments, and who took fifty thousand dollars or more to -pay his troops?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The same,” answered Vicente; “and those troops -were reinforced by a chain-gang he had released the day -before,—vile miscreants every one. We quarrelled over -each of these acts; but he laughed us all—the merchants, -the government, myself—into good-humor again. He is -one of those anomalies one detests, and admires,—crafty, -daring, licentious, superstitious, yielding, cruel, all in turn -and when least expected. He will rob a city with one -hand, and feed the poor or enrich a church with the other. -But here he comes!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The man thus spoken of was, indeed, crossing the court -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>with Don Rafael, who seemed to reel slightly in his walk, -and was laughing and talking volubly. “Yes, yes,” he -was saying, as he came within hearing, “you are right, -Señor Don José; the herd of brood mares of Tres Hermanos -is the finest in the country. There are more than a -hundred well-broken horses in the pasture, besides scores -upon scores that no man has crossed. I sent a hundred and -fifty to Don Julian a month ago. Doña Isabel begrudges -nothing to the cause of liberty.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Then I will take the other hundred to-morrow,” said -Ramirez, lightly. Don Rafael stared at him blankly. -There was something in the General’s face that almost -sobered him. The countenance of Gonzales darkened.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Believe me, Señor Comonfort shall know of your goodwill, -and that of the excellent lady Doña Isabel,” continued -Ramirez, suavely. “She will lose nothing by the -complacency of her administrador,” and as he spoke, he -smiled half indulgently, half contemptuously, upon Don -Rafael.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You promised me that here at least no seizures should -be made,” exclaimed Don Vicente, in a low indignant -voice, hot with the thought that even the men he had himself -mustered and commanded were so utterly under the -spell of Ramirez that upon any disagreement they were -likely to shift their allegiance,—for those free companies -were even less to be depended upon than the easily rebellious -regulars.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There have been no seizures, nor will there be,” answered -the General, laughing. “Don Rafael and I have -been talking together as friends and brothers; he has -told me of his amiable family, and I him of my footsore -troops.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Vicente, silenced but enraged, glared upon Ramirez as -he bade farewell to Doña Feliz. As he took her hand, he -bent and lightly kissed it. The action was a common one,—Doña -Feliz scarcely noticed it; her eyes rested upon -her son, who shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, -his garrulity checked, his gaze confused and alarmed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“We shall be gone at daybreak. You will be glad to -be rid of us,” the General said laughingly; “yet we are -innocent folk, and would do you no harm. Hark! how -sweetly our followers are singing,”—and, indeed, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>plaintive notes of a love ditty faintly floated on the air. -“My adieus to the Señora de Sanchez and her lovely -children.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>While the General spoke thus, with many low bows and -formal words of parting, he was quite in the shadow of -the wall. Doña Feliz could scarce see his face, but Chinita’s -eyes never left it. As he turned away, a sob rose -in her throat; but for a sudden fear, she would have -darted after him. Her blood seemed afire. There was -something in the very atmosphere stirred by this man that -roused her wild nature, even as the advent of its fellow -casts an admonishing scent upon the air breathed by some -savage beast.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael stole away to bed, but Don Vicente and -Doña Feliz continued their interrupted conversation far -into the night. Chinita sat in the same place, and slumbered -fitfully, and dreamed. All through her dreams -sounded the voice of the General Ramirez; all through -her dreams Gonzales followed him, with hand upon his -sword.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was near morning, when at last the child awoke, -chilled and stiff, and found herself alone in the corridor. -The moon had sunk, and only the faint light of the stars -shone on the vast and silent building; but she was not -afraid. She was used to dropping asleep, as did others of -the peasant class, where best it suited her, and at best -her softest bed was a sheep-skin. She sleepily crept to -the most sheltered part of the corridor and slept again. -But the stony pillow invited to no lengthy repose; and -when the dawn broke, the sound of movement in the -outer court quickly roused her, and she ran out just in -time to see the officers hastily swallowing their chocolate, -while Don Rafael, Pedro, and a crowd of laborers, shivering -in their <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">jorongos</span></i>, were looking on, while the sumpter -mules were being laden. At the village, the camp women -were already making their shrill adieus, taking their departure -upon sorry beasts, laden with screeching chickens, -grunting young pigs, and handfuls of rice, coffee, chile, or -whatever edibles they had been able to filch or beg, tied in -scraps of cloth and hung from their wide panniers, where -the children were perched at imminent risk of losing their -balance and breaking their brown necks. It was not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>known, however, that such accidents had ever happened, -and the women jogged merrily away, to fall into the rear -when outstripped by their better mounted lords.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael wore a gloomy face. A squad of soldiers -had already been despatched for the horses; his own -herders were lassooing them in the pastures, and they -were presently driven past the hacienda gates, plunging -and snorting. He felt that had he not in Doña Isabel’s -name yielded them, they would have been forcibly seized; -yet his conscience troubled him. The night before he had -drunk too much; the wine had strangely affected him,—he -had been maudlin and garrulous. These were times -when no prudent man should talk unnecessarily, and especially -to such a listener as the adventurer General José -Ramirez.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The neighing and whinnying of the horses, the hollow -ringing of their unshod hoofs upon the road-way, the -shouts of the men, the shrill voices of the women, all -combined to fill the air with unwonted sounds, and -brought the family of the administrador early from their -beds. As Vicente Gonzales, after shaking hands coldly -with Don Rafael, rode away at the head of his band, he -half turned in his saddle to glance at Doña Isabel’s balcony. -At the rear of the house, a faint glow was beginning -to steal up the sky and touch the tops of the trees -which rose above the garden wall, and tinge with opal -the square towers of the church; he remembered the good -Padre Francisco, and piously breathed a prayer for his -soul. The drooping rose on the balcony of what he knew -to be Doña Isabel’s chamber seemed the very emblem of -death and desolation. With a sigh he pulled his hat over -his eyes and rode on; but the General, José Ramirez, who -had been longer in his adieus, caught sight of Doña Rita -in the corner balcony, leaning over her two half-dressed -children. Their two heads were close together, their laughing -faces side by side, their four eyes making points of -dancing light behind the black bars of the balcony railing.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don José Ramirez was in a gentle mood; a sudden impulse -seized him to turn his horse and ride close to the -building, turning his eyes searchingly upon the children. -Both coquettishly turned their faces away. Rosario covered -her eyes with her fingers, glancing coyly through -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>them; then kissing the tips of the other hand, opened -them lightly above him in an imaginary shower of kisses. -No goddess could have sprinkled them more deftly than -did this infantine coquette.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez answered the salute laughingly, then turned -away with a frown on his brow. The slight delay had left -him behind the troop, amid the dust of the restive horses. -Yet he made no haste to escape the inconvenience, but -yielding for the moment to some absorbing thought rode -slowly. The voice of a child suddenly caused him to -arrest his horse with an ungentle hand. He looked -around him with a start,—an object indistinctly seen -under a mesquite tree caused his heart to bound. The -blood left his cheek, he shook in his saddle. His horse, -as startled as he, bounded in the air, and trembled in -every limb. A moment later and José Ramirez laughed -aloud. His name was repeated. “What do you there, -child?” he cried; “thou art a witch, and hast frightened -my horse. And by my patron saint,” he added in a -lower tone, “I was startled myself!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita the foundling came forward calmly, though her -skirt was in tatters, and her draggled scarf scarce covered -her shoulders; but there was an air about her as if she had -been dressed in imperial robes. “Ah!” she said quite -calmly, “it is the smell of the blood that has startled -your horse; they say no animal passes here without shying -and plunging, since the American was killed!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez glanced around him with wild eyes. “Oh, -you cannot see him now,” cried the child; “that happened -long ago. No, no, there is nothing here that will hurt -you. Why do you look at me like that? It is not I—a -poor little girl—who could injure you, but men like -those,” and she pointed to the columns of soldiers whose -bayonets were glistening in the rising sun. Her eye -seemed to single out Gonzales, though he was beyond her -vision. The thought of Ramirez perchance followed hers, -yet he only sat and stared at her, his eyes fixed, his body -shrunken and bowed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“See here,” she said slowly, raising herself on tiptoe, -and with eager hand drawing something from beneath her -clothing, “I have a charm of jet: Pedro put it on my -neck when I was a baby. It will ward off the evil eye. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>Take it; wear it. An old man gave it to Pedro on his -death-bed; he had been a soldier, a highwayman; he had -fought many battles, killed many men, yet had never had a -wound! Take it!” She took from her neck a tiny bit -of jet, hanging from a hempen string, and thrust it into -his hand.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez was astounded. He looked upon her as a -vision from another world,—he who was accustomed to -outbursts of strange eloquence, even from the lips of unclothed -children amid those untutored peasantry. She -seemed to him a thing of witchcraft. His eyes fixed -themselves on the child’s face as if fascinated; he saw it -grimy, vivacious, beautiful but weird, tempting, mysterious. -No angel, he felt, had stopped him on his way. He -took the charm mechanically, and the child, with a joyous -yet mocking laugh, fled away. He roused as from a spell, -called after her, tossed the charm into the air, and caught -it again, and called once more, but she neither answered -nor stopped. He gazed around him once again. A -superstitious awe, akin to terror, crept over him; he -shuddered, thrust the <a id='corr100.21'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='tailsman'>talisman</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_100.21'><ins class='correction' title='tailsman'>talisman</ins></a></span> into his belt, and put -spurs to his horse.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That day, for the most part, he rode alone, and when -for a time he joined Gonzales, he was silent; silent, too, -was his companion, and neither one nor the other divined -the thoughts of the man who rode at his side.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Years passed. The nine days’ feast of the Blessed -Virgin, one of the most charming of all the year, was being -celebrated with unusual pomp in the church at Tres -Hermanos. Since the death of Padre Francisco, no priest -had been regularly stationed there; but at the expense of -Doña Isabel, one had been sent there to remain through -the nine days sacred to Mary, and the people gave their -whole time to devotional exercises, much to the neglect -of the usual hacienda work. The crops in the fields were -untended, while the men crowded to Mass in the morning, -and spent their afternoons at the tavern-shop playing -monté and drinking pulque; while the women and children -streamed in and out of the church,—the women to -witness the offering of flowers upon the altar, the children -to lay them there, happy once in the year to be chief in -the service of the beautiful Queen of Heaven. For -though the image above the altar was blackened by time -and defaced by many a scar, the robes were brilliant, -and glittered with variously colored jewels of glass; the -crown was untarnished, and the little yellow babe in the -mother’s arms appealed to the strong maternal sentiment -which lies deep in the heart of every Mexican woman.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Upon the first day of the feast not one female child of -the many who lived within the hacienda limits was absent -from the church; and they were so many that the proud -mothers, who had spent no little of their time and substance -in arraying them, were fain to crowd the aisles and -doorways, or stand craning their necks without, hoping to -catch a glimpse of the high altar, as the crowd surged -to and fro, making way for the tiny representatives of -womanhood, who claimed right of entrance from their -very powerlessness and innocence. Quaint and ludicrous -looked these little creatures, mincing daintily into the -church, their wide-spread crinolines expanding skirts -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>stiffly starched, and rustling audibly under brilliant tunics -of flowered muslin or purple and green stuffs. These -dresses were an exact imitation in material and style of -the gala attire of the mothers. The full skirts swept the -ground, and over the curiously embroidered linen chemise -which formed the bodice was thrown the ever-present reboso, -or scarf of shimmering tints. The well-oiled black locks of -these miniature <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">rancheras</span></i> were drawn back tightly from -the low foreheads,—the long, smooth braids fastened and -adorned by knots of bright ribbon, and crowned with -flowers of domestic manufacture, their glaring hues and -fantastic shapes contrasting strangely with the masses of -beauty and fragrance that each child clasped to her bosom. -In spite of its incongruities, a fantastic and pleasant sight -was offered; and Doña Rita, looking around her with the -eye of a devotee, doubted whether any more pleasing -could be devised for God or man.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Within the sacred walls of her temple at least, the -Church of Rome is consistent in declaring that in her -eyes her children are all equal; and upon that springtime -afternoon at Tres Hermanos, among a throng of -plebeian children from the village, knelt the daughters -of the administrador; and side by side were Doña Rita -and a woman from whose contact, as she met her on the -court the day before, she had drawn back her skirt, -lest it should be polluted by the mere touch of so foul -a creature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Rosario and Chata (as Florentina was so constantly -called that her baptismal name was almost unknown) -had already laid their wreaths of pink Castillian roses -upon the altar, and were demurely telling their beads, -when a startling vision passed them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was Chinita, literally begarlanded with flowers,—wild-roses, -pale and delicate, long tendrils of jessamine, -and masses of faint yellow cups of the cactus, and scarlet -verbenas, dusty and coarse, yet offering a dazzling contrast -of color to the snowy pyramid of lily-shaped blossoms, -hacked from the summit of a palm, which she bore -proudly upon one shoulder; while from the other hung -her blue reboso in the guise of a bag filled with ferns and -grasses brought from coverts few others knew of. The -flowers made a glorious display as they were laid about the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>altar, for there was not room for half upon it. The breath -of the fields and woodlands rushed over the church, almost -overpowering the smell of the incense, and there were -smiles on many faces and wide-eyed glances of admiration -and surprise as Chinita descended to take her place among -the congregation.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Five Mays had come and gone since she had stood under -the fateful tree, and given the jet amulet to the cavalier -who had so roused and fascinated her imagination; -but whatever may have been its effect upon its new possessor, -its loss had certainly wrought no ill upon Chinita. -Though not yet fourteen years of age, she was fast -attaining the development of womanhood, and her mind -as well as person showed a rare precocity even in that -land where the change from childhood to womanhood -seems almost instantaneous. But there was no coyness, -as there was no assumption of womanly ways in this tall, -straight young creature, whose only toil was to carry the -water-jar from the fountain to Florencia’s hut, perhaps -twice in the day,—and who did it sometimes laughingly, -sometimes grudgingly as the humor seized her, but always -spilling half the burden with which she left the fountain -before she lifted it from her shoulder and set it in the -hollow worn in the mud floor of the hut, escaping with -a laugh from Florencia’s scolding, and hurrying out to her -old pursuits, now grown more various, more daring, more -perplexing, more vexatious to all with whom she came -in contact.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A thousand times had it been upon the lips of Doña -Rita to forbid the entrance in her house of the foundling -to distract the minds of Rosario and Chata by her wild -pranks; but aside from the fact that Doña Rita was of a -constitutionally indolent nature, averse even to the use of -many words and still more to energetic action, the child was -a constant source of interest. She carried into the quiet -rooms a sense of freedom and expansion, as though she -brought with her the breezes and sunlight in which she -delighted to wander. She had too a powerful ally in Doña -Feliz, who kept a watchful eye upon her; and though she -never, like her daughter-in-law or the children, made a pet -and plaything of the waif, yet she was always the first to -notice if she looked less well than usual, or to set Pedro -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>on his guard if her wanderings were too far afield, or her -absences too long.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Upon this day as Chinita turned from the altar, while -others smiled, a frown contracted the brow of Doña Feliz, -as for the first time perhaps she realized that this gypsy-like -child was in physique a woman. She had chosen to -wear a dress of bright green woollen stuff,—far from becoming -to the olive tint of her skin, but by some accident -cut to fit the lithe figure which already outlined, though -imperfectly, the graces of early womanhood. The short -armless jacket was fashioned after the child’s own fancy, -and opened over a chemise which was a mass of drawn -work and embroidery; her skirts outspread all others, yet -the flowing drapery could not wholly conceal the small -brown feet which, as the custom was, were stockingless -and cased in heelless slippers of some fine black stuff,—more -an ornament than a protection. But Chinita’s -crowning glory were the rows of many-colored worthless -glass beads, mingled with strings of corals and dark and -irregular pearls, that hung around her neck and festooned -the front of her jacket. This dazzling vision, with the inevitable -soiled reboso thrown lightly over one shoulder, came -down from the altar and through the aisle of the church, -smiling in supreme content, not because of the glorious -tribute of flowers she had plucked and offered, nor with -pride at her own appearance, gorgeous as she believed it -to be, but because of the delightful effect she supposed -both would leave on her aristocratic playmates; and -much amazed was she as she neared them to see Chata’s -expressive nose assume an elevation of unapproachable dignity, -while Rosario’s indignation took the form of an aggressive -pinch, so deftly given that Chinita’s shrill interjection -seemed as unaccountable as the glory of her apparel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita in some consternation sank on her knees, her -green skirt rising in folds around her, reminding Chata -irresistibly of a huge butterfly which she had that very -morning seen settle upon a verdant pomegranate bush. -How she longed to extinguish Chinita’s glories as she had -done those of the insect, by a cast of her reboso. There -was no malice in her thought, though perhaps a trifle of -envy, for she too loved brilliant colors. She could not -restrain a titter as she thought what Chinita’s vexation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>would be; and with a face glowing with anger and eyes -filled with reproach, Pedro’s foster-child sailed haughtily -past the sisters while the untrained choir were singing -hymns of rejoicing, with that inimitable undertone of pathos -natural in the voices of the Aztecs, and the censers of incense -were still swinging, and left the church,—longing to -rush back and to trample under foot the flowers she had so -joyously gathered, longing to tear off the fine clothes and -adornments she had so proudly donned. She pushed angrily -past a peasant boy in tattered cotton garments and -coarse sombrero of woven grass, who was the slave of her -caprices, who had toiled in her service all day and upon -whom she had smiled when she entered the church, yet -whom she now thrust aside in rage as she left it, with a -“Out of my way, stupid! What art thou staring at? -Thou art like blind Tomas, with his eyes open all day -long, yet seeing nothing.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“A pretty one thou,” cried the boy, angrily. “Dost -suppose I am a rabbit, to care for nothing but green? -Bah! thou art uglier in thy gay skirts than in thy old ones -of red-and-white flannel!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the girl had not lingered to listen to his taunts. -She flew rather than ran to her hut, which on account of -the service in the church was deserted. A crowd of ragged -urchins who had taken up the cry of her flouted swain, -followed her, jeering and hooting, to the door which she -slammed in their faces. Not that they bore her any ill -will; but the sight of Chinita in her fine clothes, ruffling -and fluttering like an enraged peacock, was irresistibly -exciting to the youths whom her lofty disdain usually -held in the cowed and submissive state of awe-stricken -admiration.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita, scarcely understanding her own miserable disappointment -and anger, began to disembarrass herself of -her finery, flinging each article from her with contempt, -until she stood in the coarse red white-spotted skirt, with a -broad band of light green above the hips,—which formed -her ordinary apparel. As she stood panting, two great -tears rolling down her cheeks and two others as large hanging -upon her long, black lashes, she saw the door gently -pushed open and before, with an angry exclamation, she -could reach it, a little brown head was thrust in.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>“Go away!” cried Chinita, imperatively. “Thou hast -been told not to come here. Thy mother will have thee -whipped, and I shall be glad, and I will laugh! yes, I will -laugh and laugh!” and she proceeded to do so sardonically -on the instant, gazing down with a glance of contemptuous -fury, which for the moment was tragically -genuine, upon the little brown countenance lifted to her -own somewhat apprehensively, yet with a mischievous -daring in the dark eyes that lighted it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita, with a child’s freedom and in the forgetfulness -of anger, had used the “thou” of equality in addressing -her visitor; yet so natural and irresistible are class distinctions -in Mexico, that she held open the door with -some deference for the daughter of the administrador to -enter, and caught up her scarf to throw over her head -and bare shoulders, as was but seemly in the presence of -a superior however young. That done, however, they -were but two children together, two wilful playmates for -the moment at variance.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Now, then! Be not angry, Chinita!” laughed Chata, -looking around her with great satisfaction. “What good -fortune that thou art here alone! I slipped by the gate -when Pedro was busy talking, and Rosario was making -my mother and <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">mamagrande</span></i> to fear dying of laughter -by mimicking thee, Chinita; and so they never missed me -when I darted away to seek thee, Sanchica.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And thou hadst better go back,” cried Chinita, grimly, -more piqued at being the cause of laughter than pleased -at Chata’s penetration; for in choosing her green gown -she had had in her mind the habit of green cloth sent by the -Duchess to Sancho Panza’s rustic daughter, and had teased -and wheedled Pedro into buying her holiday dress of -that color,—because when they were reading the story -together Chata had called her Sanchica and herself the -Duchess, and for many a day they had acted together -such a little comedy as even Cervantes never dreamed of, -in which they had seemed to live in quite another world -than that actually around them. The tale of the “Knight -of the Sorrowful Countenance” was a strange text-book for -children; yet in it they had contrived to put together the -letters learned in the breviary, and with their two heads -close bent over the page, these two, as years passed on, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>had spelled out first the story, then later an inkling of the -wit, the fancy, the philosophy which lay deep between the -two leathern covers that inclosed the entire secular literature -that the house of Don Rafael afforded.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There were, indeed, shelves of quaint volumes in the -darkened rooms into which Chata sometimes peeped when -Doña Feliz left a door ajar; but so great was her awe that -she would not have disturbed an atom of dust, and scarce -dared to breathe lest the deep stillness of those dusky -rooms should be broken by ghostly voices. But Chinita, -less scrupulous, had more than once, quite unsuspected, -passed what were to her delightful though grewsome hours -in those echoing shades, and with the bare data of a few -names had repeopled them in imagination with those long -dead and gone, as well as with the figure of that stately -Doña Isabel, who still lived in some far-off city,—mourning -rebelliously, it was whispered, over the beautiful -daughter shut from her sight by the walls of a convent, -yet who with seemingly pitiless indifference had consigned -the equally beautiful younger Carmen to a loveless marriage; -for the latter had married an elderly widower, and -who could believe it might be from choice? Chinita -heard perhaps more of these things than any one, for -she was free to run in and out of every hut, as well as -the house of the administrador; and with her quick intelligence, -her lively imagination, and that faculty which with -one drop of Indian blood seems to pervade the entire -being,—the faculty of astute and silent assimilation of -every glance and hint,—she was in her apparent ignorance -and childishness storing thoughts and preparing -deductions, which lay as deep from any human eye as -the volcanic fires that in the depths of some vine-clad -mountain may at any moment burst forth, to amaze and -terrify and overwhelm.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But Chinita was brooding over no secret thoughts as -she began to smile, though unwillingly and half wrathfully, -as Chata eagerly declared how well the green dress had -transformed her into a veritable Sanchica, and how stupid -she herself had been not to guess from the first what her -clever playmate had meant; then she laughed again as she -thought of the billowy green in which Chinita had knelt, -and the half-appeased masquerader was vexed anew, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>sat sullenly on the edge of the adobe shelf that served as a -bedstead, and tugged viciously at the knots of ribbon in the -rebellious hair which she had vainly striven to confine in -seemly tresses. She shook back the wild locks, which once -free sprang into a thousand rings and tendrils, and looking -at Chata irefully from between them, exclaimed,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You laugh at me always! You are a baby; you read -in the book, and yet you know nothing. If I were rich -like you, I would not be silent and puny and weak as -you are. I would be strong and beautiful, and a woman -as Rosario is; and I would know everything,—yes, as -much as the Padre Comacho, and more; and I would -be great and proud, as they say the Señora Doña -Isabel is!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But,” cried Chata, flushing with astonishment and -some anger, “how can I be beautiful and strong and like -a grown woman at will? My grandmother says it is well -I am still a child, while Rosario is almost a woman; and -I do not mind being little, no, nor even that my nose turns -back to run away, as you say, from my mouth every time -I open it; but it is growing more courageous, I know,”—and -she gave the doubtful member an encouraging pull. -“I do not mind all this in the least, while my father -and my grandmother love me; but my mother and you -and every one else look only at Rosario, and talk only -of her—” and her lip trembled.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But do I talk <em>to</em> Rosario?” asked Chinita, much mollified. -“Do I ever tell her my dreams, and all the fine -things I see and hear, when I wander off in the fields and -by the river, and up into the dark cañons of the hills? -And,” she added in an eager whisper, “shall I ever tell -her about the American’s ghost when I see him?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Bah! you will never see him,” ejaculated Chata, contemptuously, -though she glanced over her shoulder with a -sudden start. “There is no such thing. I asked my -grandmother about it yesterday, and she says it is all -wicked nonsense. There could have been no American to -be murdered, for she remembers nothing about it.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh!” ejaculated Chinita, significantly, and she -laughed. “Then it is no use for me to tell you where he -is buried. If there was no American, he could not have -a grave.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>“Yet you have found it!” cried Chata, in intense -excitement, for the story, more or less veracious, that had -often been told her of the murder of the American years -before, and the return of his ghost from time to time to -haunt the spot accursed by his unavenged blood, had -taken a strong hold upon her imagination. “Oh, Chinita! -did you go, as you said you would, among the graves on -the hillside? Did you go?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Why, yes, I did go,” answered Chinita, slowly, winding -her arms around her knees, as she leaned from her -high perch, her brown face almost touching that of the -smaller child, who still stood before her. “But I sha’n’t -tell you anything more, so you may as well go home. -Ah, I think I hear them calling you,” and she straightened -herself up as if to listen.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No! no! no!” cried Chata in an agony of impatience, -“I will not go till you tell me. I <em>will</em> know! -Oh, Chinita, if I were but like you, and could run about -at will, over the fields and up the hills!” The tears rose -to her eyes as she spoke,—poor little captive, in her stolen -moment of liberty feeling in her soul the iron of bondage -to custom or necessity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Well, then,” said Chinita, deliberately, prolonging the -impatience of her supplicant, while the tears in the dark -gray eyes lifted to her own moved her, “I went through -the cornfield. I drove Pepé back when he wanted to go -with me. Oh, how afraid that big boy is of me! Yes, I -went through the corn,—oh, it is so high, so high, I thought -it was the very wood where Don Quixote and Sancho -Panza met the robbers; but I was not afraid. And then -I came to the beanfield, and oh, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>! I meant to go -again this very day, and bring an armful of the sweet -blossoms to Our Lady, and I forgot it!” clasping her -hands penitently.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And well for thee that thou didst,” exclaimed Chata, -“or a pretty rating my father would have given thee! -He says it is enough to make the Blessed Virgin vexed for -a year to see the good food-blossoms wasted, when there -are millions of flowers God only meant for her and the -bees. But, Chinita, I would I were a bee, to make thee -cry as I wish! Thou art slower than ever to-day. Tell -me, tell me, what didst thou next?”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>“Well, did I not tell you I came to the beanfield,—what -should I do but go through it?” remonstrated -Chinita; “and then I walked under the willows. Ah, if -you could only once walk under the willows, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>! it is -like heaven in the green shade by the clear water, and -there are great brakes of rushes, with the birds skimming -over them. I saw among them a stork standing on one -leg, and he had in his mouth a little striped snake, yellow -and scarlet and black, which so wriggled and twisted! -Ah, and I saw, besides, little fish in the shallow water, -and—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata sighed. She had unconsciously sunk upon the -mud floor; her eyes opened wide, as if in imagination she -saw all those things of which, though she was set in the -very heart of Nature, her bodily eyes had caught no glimpse. -How in her heart of hearts the sheltered, cloistered daughter -of the administrador envied the wild foster-child of the -gate-keeper, who was so free, and from whom the woods -and fields could keep no secrets! “Go on!” she whispered, -and Chinita said, in a sort of recitative,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, I went on and on, not very long by the water’s -edge, though I loved it, but up the little path through the -stones and the thorny cacti. Oh, but they were full of -yellow blossoms, and they smelled so sweet; but they were -full of prickles too, and as I went up the steep hillside -they caught my reboso every minute, and when I stood -among the graves my hands were tingling and smarting, -and I was half blind and stumbling. I was so tired, oh, so -tired! and I sat down and rubbed my hands in the sand. -It was very still there; it seemed to me that a little wind -was always singing, but perhaps it was the dry grass rustling; -but as I bent down to listen, I fell asleep, and when -I woke up the sun was no higher in the sky than the width -of my hand, and I had no time to look for anything.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, stupid creature!” cried Chata, after a moment’s -silent disappointment. “Why did you not tell me so before? -I must be missed. I shall be scolded,” and in a -sudden panic she rose to her feet and turned to the door.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Stay! stay!” cried Chinita, eager to give her news, as -she saw Chata about to fly. “Though I did not look, I -found something. Oh, yes, in black letters, so big and -clear!”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>Chata returned precipitately. “Letters—what letters?” -she cried.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Big black letters, J and U and A and N; and the -letters for the American name—how do they say it? -Ash— Yes, Ashley—it is not hard—and that he was -born in the United States, and murdered here in May,—yes, -I forget the figures, but I counted up; it was just -fourteen years ago, upon the 13th of this very month. It -was all written out upon a little wooden cross, which had -fallen face down upon the grave I fell asleep upon. I -might have looked for it a hundred years and not have -found it, but I had scraped away the sand from it to rub -my hands. It is thick and heavy; I could scarcely turn it -over to read the words,—but they are there. You may -tell Doña Feliz there was an American.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, I shall say nothing,” said Chata, dreamily. “She -likes not to hear of murder or of ghosts. Ah, the poor -American! why does his spirit stay here? This is not -purgatory. Ah, can it be he cannot rest because he died -upon the 13th?—the unlucky number, my mother says.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let us make it lucky,” said Chinita, daringly. “Let -us say thirteen Aves and thirteen Pater Nosters for his -soul.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But Chata shook her head doubtfully, and started -violently as a servant maid, grimy and ragged like all her -clan, and panting with haste, thrust open the door, -exclaiming,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Niña</span></i> of my soul, your lady mother declares you are -dead. Doña Feliz has searched all the house, and is -wringing her hands with grief. Don Rafael has seized -Pedro by the collar, and is mad with rage because he -swears you have not passed the gate; and here I find -you, with your white frock all stained with dirt, and that -beggar brat filling your ears with her mad tales. The -Saints defend us! Sometime the witch will fly off—as -she came—no one knows where. But you, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>, come, -come away!” and the excited woman dragged the truant -reluctantly away; while Chinita, thrusting her tongue into -her cheek, received the epithets of “beggar brat” and -“witch” with a contempt which the gesture only, rather -than any words, fluent as she was in plebeian repartee, -could at that moment adequately express.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XVI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Though Chinita as was usual was made the scapegoat -for Chata’s fault,—Doña Rita averring that the girl possessed -an irresistible power for evil over her own innocent -children,—Chata on this occasion felt herself most heavily -punished, for Don Rafael strengthened his wife’s fiat -against the dangerous temptress, the gate-keeper’s child, -by absolutely prohibiting her entrance to his house. Chata -wept for her playmate, and for many days Rosario moped -and sulked; while Chinita hung disconsolate—as the Peri -at the gate of Paradise—about the entrance to the court, -finding small solace in the young fawn Pepé had given her, -though she twined her arms around it and held its head -against her bosom, that its large pensive eyes might seem -to join in the appeal of her own. And perhaps the two -aided by time and Chata’s grief might have conquered; -but there was a sudden interruption of the quiet course of -life at Tres Hermanos.</p> - -<p class='c001'>One day Chinita found the whole house open to her; -there was no one there either to welcome or repulse her -save Doña Feliz. Don Rafael, with his wife and children, -had obeyed a sudden call, and had hastened to the dying -bed of Doña Rita’s mother. For the first time in her life -Chata had left the hacienda. Rosario had twice before -gone with her mother to visit relatives, but for various -reasons Chata had remained at home. Doña Rita seemed -half inclined to leave her at this time also; but Don Rafael -cut the matter short by ordering her few necessaries to be -packed, and in a flutter of excitement, perhaps heightened -by the frown upon her mother’s face, Chata took her seat -in the carriage that was to bear her far beyond the circle -of hills which had heretofore bounded her vision.</p> - -<p class='c001'>What a pall seemed to fall upon the place when they -were all gone! First, a great stillness pervaded the court -and corridors where the children’s voices were wont to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>ring; and then hollow, ghostly noises woke the echoes. A -second court was now opened which long had been closed, -though the fountains played there, and the flower-pots -were all rich with bloom. The doors of rooms which before -at best had been only left ajar were opened wide; and Doña -Feliz, with a few of her most trusty servants, swept out the -long accumulated dust, and let the light stream in upon the -disused furniture. Chinita had caught glimpses of these -things before, indistinct, uncertain, as though they were -far memories of a past existence. She and Chata had -often talked of them in days when they played at being -grand ladies, and in imagination they were rich and beautiful; -but when she actually stood in the broad sunshine, -and saw the gilt and varnish, the variegated stuffs and -great mirrors, the reality seemed a dream, from which she -feared to waken. For all these material things appealed -to something in the child’s nature which it appeared impossible -she should have inherited from a long line of -plebeian ancestors,—a something that was not a mere -gaping admiration for what was bright and beautiful and -dazzling by its very height of separation from the poor -possibilities of her life, but which one would say had sprung -directly from the influences of lavish splendor. There -was an impulse toward appropriation and enjoyment in the -actual touch of these attributes of an aristocratic life, an -instinctive knowledge of the uses of things she had never -before seen or heard of, which seemed to come as naturally -into her mind as would the art of swimming to a duckling -that had passed its first days in the coop with its foster-mother -the hen. Nothing surprised her, and the delight -she felt was not merely that of novelty, but that of the satisfaction -of a long-felt want. Doña Feliz had not forbidden -her entrance when she first saw her at the door of Doña -Isabel’s apartment, but watched her with grave surprise as -she wandered through the long rooms, sometimes picking -up a fan, a hand-glass, a cup, and unconsciously assuming -the very air and walk of a grand lady,—an air so natural -that even in her tattered red skirt it never for a moment -made her appear grotesque.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael returned home in the midst of the work of -renovation. He had left his family with the dying -mother, forced to return by the exigencies of business,—but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>ill pleased to leave them, for the roads were full of -bandits, and the country was infested with wandering -bands, as dangerous in their professed military character -as the openly avowed robbers. They enjoyed immunity in -all their depredations and deeds of violence, because they -were committed under the standard of the Governor of the -State, José Ramirez,—for to his <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</span></i> of military chieftain -the adventurer had added that of politician. In this <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</span></i> -he had hastened the tottering fortunes of President Comonfort -to their fall, by seizing in his name a large sum of -money belonging to foreign merchants, and with it buying -over the troops under his command,—first to declare him -military governor, and then to join with enthusiasm the -clerical forces, which sprang into being as if by magic, -bringing with them money in plenty, and gay uniforms, -which put to shame the rags which the Liberals wore -and which the resources of the legitimate government -were insufficient to replace with more attractive garb. -For months the name of José Ramirez had rung through -the land in alternate shouts of triumph and joy and howls -of execration. The prison doors had been thrown open, -and hundreds of convicts had joined his ranks, ready to -die for the man who had set them free,—not for gratitude, -but in an excess of admiration for a spirit more -lawless, more daring, than their own.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita used to stand half aloof, and listen to these -things, as wild rumors of them reached the hacienda, a -burning pride glowing in her heart as she heard of deeds -that made men tremble and stand aghast; and in imagination -she saw the tall dark man whom she had made her -hero riding through the streets in the full panoply of military -splendor, followed by a train of mounted soldiers as -gorgeous as himself,—then the blaring band, the gay foot -soldiers shouting his name, and that terrible battle-cry of -“Religion y Fueros,” in which so many infernal deeds -were done; and last of all a multitude of half-clad men, -women, and boys and girls like herself in ragged garments, -not hungry nor wretched, though with all the grime -and squalor of poverty upon them. She loathed them -in her heart, though she did not consciously separate -herself from their kind; but often ran to the covert of -the tall corn, or the shade of some tree, and sat down -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>and drew her reboso over her head, laughing softly and -breathlessly, for had she not given this man the amulet -which gave him a charmed life? Sometimes she heard of -attacks made upon him,—how bullets had gone crashing -through his carriage windows, how in the very streets of -the city, as well as on the battle-field, his horses had been -shot under him; but he had never once been hurt. She -was a ragged, barefoot girl, but here was something -which in her own eyes enwrapped her as with velvet -and ermine,—the belief that she had some part in that -dazzling career that attracted the gaze, the wonder, the -terror of what was to her mind the whole wide world.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Through those hot summer days Pedro saw little of his -foster child; and sometimes when he did see her, she would -pass by as if he were nothing to her, or would shudder -sometimes when he laid his hand with gentle violence upon -her arm, and forced her in from the glaring sunshine, -in which she often wandered for hours, unconscious of the -heat which was burning her skin browner and browner, -but painting roses on her cheeks, and filling her eyes with -light; and sometimes she would come softly up behind -him and throw the brown tangle of her hair over his eyes, -almost smothering him in the golden crispness of its -ruddy ends, and kiss him wildly between his bushy eyebrows, -calling herself his wicked Chinita, his naughty -child, until he would draw her on his knee and wipe away -her streaming tears with the tenderness but none of the -familiarity of a parent, and while he did so, sigh and sigh -again, and wonder what these wild moods would lead to.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When Doña Feliz began the renovation of the family -apartments Pedro stole in there one day when she chanced -to be quite alone, and asked if it was true that Doña Isabel -would soon return; it was many years—yes, twelve and -more—since she had left them; and the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Carmen, was -it true that she was married? And the Señorita Herlinda? -“Was it quite certain,” and his voice grew low,—“was it -quite certain she was in a convent?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Did not Don Vicente tell you that?” queried Doña -Feliz; “and his sad looks, did they not tell you? Ah, -unhappy girl, where should she be but in a convent? -Where else in the world should she hide, who was so at -feud with life?” She started, remembering herself; but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>Pedro was looking at her with impassive stolidity. “Yes, -yes,” she continued impatiently, “she has chosen her -path; she has left the world forever.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But they say,” droned Pedro, monotonously, “that the -convents will be opened and all the nuns be made free -when the Señor Juarez takes his turn to rule. They say -the day he enters the palace the dead men’s hands will -open, and all their riches escape from their grasp. The -silver and gold will be taken from the altars and given to -the poor, and the monasteries and nunneries be pulled -down, that the people may build their houses with the -stones.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz laughed. It was not often any sound -of merriment passed her lips, and then not in scorn. -“Dreams, dreams, Pedro!” she said. “Are you as foolish -as the rest, and think the new law would give all the -poor wealth, or even the despoiled their own? Do you -think Juarez himself believes it? No, no! he is a sly -fox; and while the Church and Comonfort were the lion -and bear struggling over the carcass, he strives to glide -in and steal the flesh. Do you think he will divide it -among you hungry ones? No! these politicians are all -alike, and whether with the cry of religion or liberty, -fight and plot only for their own aggrandizement, and -the poor country is forgotten, as it is drenched by the -blood of her sons. There is not one true patriot in all -this distracted land.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She spoke rather to herself than Pedro, who shook his -head with a sort of grim obstinacy. “I am thinking to -go away, Doña Feliz,” he said. “You know the Señor -Juarez is at liberty, and there will be bloody days soon if -Zuloaga does not yield him his rightful place in Mexico. -I have a mind to see a few of them. You know I was -a good soldier in Santa Anna’s time, and as I sit in the -gate I hear the sound of the cannon and the rattle of -musketry and the voice of my old commander Gonzales, -only it comes now from the lips of his son; and I feel I -must go.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz looked at him steadily. She knew her -countryman well, and though she doubted not that something -of the martial spirit of the time was stirring within -him, she was equally certain that a second and more potent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>reason was prompting Pedro to leave Tres Hermanos; -but she only said,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Then you wish to join Vicente Gonzales? They say -he, with all his band, has thrown his fortunes in with -those of Juarez. Well, well, perhaps anything was better -than that he should be linked with Ramirez. If <a id='corr117.6'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='Vincente'>Vicente</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_117.6'><ins class='correction' title='Vincente'>Vicente</ins></a></span> -is a traitor, it is at least with a noble aim, not for mere -plunder. There was something strange, forbidding, terrible, -about that man Ramirez. Did you notice his face, -Pedro, when he was here?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro shook his head, returning with pertinacity to his -own plans. “You will talk to Don Rafael for me, will -you not, Señora?” he said, with a trace of the abject -whine in his tone that marked the habit of serfdom, which -a few years of nominal freedom had done little to alter, -“and with your good leave I will go, and take Chinita -with me.” He spoke hesitatingly, as though fearful his -right would be disputed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Take Chinita!” exclaimed Doña Feliz. “What, to a -soldiers’ camp, to her ruin! You are mad, Pedro. No, -she shall remain here with me. I will take her into the -house. I will teach her to sew. She shall be my child -rather than my servant! I—” she stopped in extreme -agitation, for within the doorway the child stood.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will be no one’s servant!” she said, proudly drawing -herself up; “and as to going to the Indian’s camp—ah, -I know a better place than that,” and she nodded her -head significantly. “You shall leave me, Father Pedro, -with your Doña Isabel!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz and Pedro started as if they had been shot.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I came to tell you she is coming,” continued the child. -“I was out beyond the granaries, letting my fawn browse -on the little hill, and as I was looking toward the gorge I -saw a horseman coming, and far behind him was a carriage -and many men. Is all ready?” and she glanced -around her with the air of a prophetess. “Hark! the -courier is in the court now. Doña Isabel will not be long -behind him.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro hastened from the room with an exclamation of -alarmed amazement. “Go, go!” cried Feliz. “You are -too late!” for she knew in her heart that it was in very -fear of this visit, and to remove the child from the chance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>of encountering Doña Isabel, that Pedro had proposed -to leave the hacienda; and here was Doña Isabel herself,—for -strangely enough, neither of them doubted that -what the child had assumed was true. The thoughts of -Doña Feliz were inexplicable even to herself. She felt as -though she was placed in some vast and gloomy theatre, -with the curtain about to rise upon some strange play, -which at the will of the actors might become either comedy -or tragedy. Though of late she had felt certain that Doña -Isabel would return to the hacienda, that very act seemed -dramatic, the precursor of inevitable complications.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Why could she not be content in the new life she had -chosen?” muttered Doña Feliz. “What voice has been -sounding in her ears, to call her back to resurrect old -griefs, to walk among the spectres of long-silent agonies -and shame? Foolish, foolish woman! Yet as the magnet -attracts iron, so thy hard heart is drawn by these -bitter remembrances. Go, go! thou child!” she exclaimed -aloud, and almost angrily. “Doña Isabel would -be vexed to see thee in her room. Go, and keep thee out -of her way!” She gazed after Chinita with a look of -perplexity and pain, as with a bound of irresistible excitement -the girl sprang out upon the corridor, her laugh rising -through the still air as if in notes of defiance. “What -said the child?” muttered Doña Feliz. “‘Leave me with -your Doña Isabel’?”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XVII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>From the city of Guanapila to the hacienda of Tres Hermanos -the road runs almost continually through mountain -defiles, where on either hand the great masses of bare -rocks rise so precipitously that it seems impossible that -man or beast should scale them; and here, where Nature’s -aspect is most terrible, man is least to be feared. But -there are intervals where broad flat ledges hang above the -roadway, or where it crosses plateaus shaded by scrub-oak -or mesquite and even grassy dells, where after the -rains water may be found, offering charming camping-grounds -during the noon-tide heat; and precisely at such -places the anxious traveller has need to look to his weapons, -and picket his horses and mules in such order that -no sudden attack may cause a stampede among them, and -that they may, if need offer, form a barricade for their -defenders. In those lawless times few persons ventured -forth without a military escort, and if possible sought additional -security by accompanying the baggage trains -which by arrangement with the party for the moment in -power enjoyed immunity from attack by roving bands of -soldiery, and were too formidable to be successfully assailed -by the ordinary cliques of highwaymen. Seldom -indeed was there found a person so reckless as to venture -forth attended only by the escort his own house afforded; -and daring indeed was the woman who would undertake a -two days’ journey in such a manner. The least she might -expect would be to find her protectors dispersed, perhaps -slain, and herself a captive,—held for an exorbitant ransom, -and subjected to the hardships of life in the remote -recesses of the mountains, and to indignities the very -report of which might daunt the most reckless or the -bravest.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Yet in spite of all this, a carriage containing a lady and -her maid—for such were their relative positions, though -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>both were alike dressed in plain black gowns and the -common blue reboso—entered in the early afternoon of a -summer’s day the narrow gorge that led by circuitous -windings through the rocks to the great gorge that formed -the entrance to the wide valley of Tres Hermanos, whose -entire extent offered to the eye the wondrous fruitfulness -so rich and varied in itself, so startling in contrast to the -desolation passed to reach it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The midday halt had been a short one, for it was the -rainy season, and progress was necessarily slow over the -swollen watercourses and the obstructions of accumulated -sands and pebbles, the masses of cactus and branches of -trees and shrubs, which had been brought down by recent -storms. At times it seemed impossible that the carriage, -although drawn by four stout mules, could proceed, and -from time to time the servant looked anxiously through -the window. But the mistress was equal to all emergencies, -herself giving directions to the perplexed driver and -his assistant, and though she had been travelling for -more than two days over a road usually easily passed in -one, allowing no sign or word of weariness or impatience -to escape her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But this carriage and its occupants would have appeared -to a passer-by the least important factor in the caravan of -which it formed a part; for it was encircled and almost -concealed by a band of mounted men, clad in suits of -brownish leather, glimpses of the red waist-band glistening -with knives and pistols showing from beneath their -striped blankets, long knives and lassos hanging at their -saddle-bows, rifles in their sinewy right hands, while from -beneath their wide hats their keen eyes investigated sharply -every jutting rock and peered into the distance with an air -of half-defiant, half-fearful expectancy,—for these were -men taken from her own estate, who idle retainers as -they had been in her great bare house in the city where -Doña Isabel Garcia had lived for years in melancholy -state, thrilled with clannish fidelity to their mistress and -passionate love for their <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">tierra</span></i> to which they were returning, -and with that vague delight in the possibility of a -fight which arouses in man both chivalrous and brutish -daring, as the smell of blood arouses the love of slaughter -in the tamest beast.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>In front of these rode the conductor of the party clad in -a half-military fashion, as became the character he had -earned for eccentric daring, the reputation of which perhaps -more than actual bravery made him eminently successful -in guiding safely the party wise or rich enough to -secure his escort. This man was known as Tio Reyes, -though his appearance did not justify the honorary title of -Uncle, for he was still in the prime of life; but it was -applied to him in tones of jesting yet affectionate respect -by his followers who had joined the party with him, and -adopted by the others to whom he was a stranger,—for at -the last moment he had appeared just as they were leaving -Guanapila, and with a brief word to the mistress, to -which in much surprise and some annoyance she had -agreed, had placed himself at their head.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the rear of those we have described came four or -five mules laden with provisions, necessaries for camping, -and some private baggage; these were driven by <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">arrieros</span></i> -who ran at their sides, for the travelling pace of horses -did not exceed that of those trained runners.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The journey, wearisome as it had proved, had so far been -made without alarms, and upon nearing the boundaries of -Tres Hermanos much of the anxiety though none of the -vigilance of the escort subsided; when suddenly upon the -glaring sunshine of the day, all the hotter and clearer from -the recent rains, rose in the distance a sort of mist, which -filled the narrow road and blurred the outline of the towering -rocks. The guide paused for a moment and glanced -back at the escort. Each hand grasped tighter the ready -rifle; at a word the carriage was stopped, the baggage -mules were driven up and enclosed within the square hastily -formed by the armed men,—for upon that clear day, after -the rains, the tramp of many feet was requisite to raise -that cloud of dust, and these precautions were but prudent, -whether the advancing troop were friends or foes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Tio Reyes, after disposing his force to his satisfaction, -rode forward with his lieutenant to meet the advancing -host, which in those few moments seemed to fill the entire -range of vision, though at first with confusing indistinctness, -as did the sounds that came echoing from rock to -rock. The cries of men rose hoarsely above a deep and -rumbling undertone, which resolved itself at last into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep,—harmless and -terrified wayfarers, but driven and preceded by a troop of -undisciplined soldiery, ripe for deeds more tragic than the -plunder of vaqueros and shepherds, who would be more -likely wisely to seek shelter in the crevices of the rocks -than to defy numbers before whom they were helpless.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señora of my soul!” cried the servant, catching a -word from one of the men, “we are lost! Virgin of -Succors, pray for us! These are some of the men of his -Excellency the Governor, and you know they stop at -nothing. Ah, what a chance to gain money is this! Once -in the mountains what may they not demand for you? -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ave Maria Sanctissima!</span></i> Ah, Señora, if you would but -have listened to the Señorita! to me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Silence!” said the lady, in a tone as of one unused -to hear her actions commented upon. “Silence! thou -wilt be safe. If we are captured, thou wilt not be a prize -worth retaining; it will be easy to induce them to take -thee to Guanapila, and obtain a reward from my cousin, -Don Hernando.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no!” cried the woman, brought to her senses by -this quiet scorn and the startling proposition of her mistress. -“Could I leave your grace? No, no! imprisonment, -starvation, even to be made the wife of one of -those bandits!” and a faint smile curled the damsel’s lip, -for she was not ugly, and knew something of the gallantries -of Ramirez’s followers,—“anything rather than desert -my lady! Ay, my life! whom have we here?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was Tio Reyes undoubtedly, and with him was a -military stranger, a gallant young fellow, and handsome, -though his hands and face were covered with dust, and -something like a large blood-stain defaced the breast of -his blue coat. “Pardon, Señora,” he exclaimed, bowing -most obsequiously and removing his wide hat, disclosing -a young and vivacious countenance, “I am Rodrigo Alva, -your servant, who kisses your feet, captain of this troop of -horse, of the forces of his Excellency Don José Ramirez, -Governor of Guanapila.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And I am the Señora Doña Isabel Garcia de Garcia,” -responded the lady, with dignified recognition of the young -man’s courteous self-introduction; “and as I am unaware -of any cause for detention, I beg to be permitted to proceed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>toward my hacienda, which I desire to reach before -night closes in.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is not my desire to molest ladies,” said the captain, -gallantly; “and I have besides received express orders to -defend your passage and facilitate it in every way.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I have no acquaintance with Señor Ramirez,” said -Doña Isabel in surprise; “yet more than once have I -been indebted to his courtesy,” and she glanced at Tio -Reyes. “He it was who sent me this worthy guide. I -know not why the Señor Ramirez takes such interest in -my personal safety, especially as we are politically -opposed;” and she added with a daring which had -somewhat of girlish archness, strange from the lips of -Doña Isabel, “he has not the name of a man given -to gallantries.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, rather to gallant deeds,” said the young captain, -his voice accentuating the distinction. “But you, Doña -Isabel, like us who serve him, must be content not to -inquire too closely into his motives.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Whatever they may be,” retorted she, in a voice of -displeasure, “they are not such as will spare my flocks -and herds;” and she frowned as a stray ox, upon whose -flank she recognized the well-known brand of Tres Hermanos, -bounded by the carriage, from which the escort -had gradually withdrawn, and were now exchanging -amicable salutations with the more advanced of the host -which they would have been equally pleased to fight.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young man bowed in some confusion. “The men -must be fed,” he said. “These come from the ranchito -del Refugio, Señora, and I regret to say the huts are -burned down and the shepherds and vaqueros scattered; -one poor fellow was killed in pure wantonness.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And you dare tell me this!” cried Doña Isabel, in -violent indignation, which for the moment overcame her -wonted calmness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It was but to explain,” interrupted Captain Alva, -“that we encountered the famous Calvo there. He has -succeeded in raising three hundred men or more to march -to the assistance of the double-dyed traitor Juarez. -Fortunately, but a portion of his troops were with him; -the rest have joined Gonzales,—so our work was easy, -though the fellows fought well. Three or four were killed, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>a few wounded, the rest fled to the mountains, and we -succeeded in securing the cattle and sheep; and I hope -your grace will be consoled in knowing they are destined -to feed good patriots.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel waved her hand impatiently. “What -matter a few animals?” she said. “But the poor shepherds,—they -must be looked to. And the wounded—what -of them?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Canalla!</span></i>” laughed the captain, carelessly, “one or -two are with us here, tied on their saddles. They will -do well enough. Others lay down under bushes to -shelter their cracked heads. But one there is, Señora, a -foreigner, a mere boy, who was in the party by chance -they say, just a boy’s freak,—but, my faith! he did a -man’s portion of fighting, and has a wound to end a -man’s life. He must die if he rides much farther lashed to -his horse;” and the young soldier, half a bandit in lawlessness, -and in his perplexed notions of honor, perhaps -too, scarce free from blood-guiltiness, sighed as he added, -“but this is no subject for a lady’s ear. Permit, Señora, -that my troops and their belongings pass by, and you may -then proceed in all peace and safety.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thanks, Señor,” said Doña Isabel, adding half hesitatingly: -“And the wounded youth,—a foreigner, I think -you said?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“By his looks and tongue, English,” answered the -officer, with his hand to his hat as a parting salute. -But Doña Isabel’s look stopped him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You pity this poor wounded creature,” she said, “and -I can do no less. You are compelled to travel in haste, and -the city—if that is your destination—is far distant.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel spoke as if under some invisible compulsion -and as against her will, and paused as if unable to -utter the proposal that trembled on her lips; but the -voluble young officer, with the eagerness of desire, divined -what she would say, and so lauded the appearance and -bearing of the wounded prisoner that to her own amazement -Doña Isabel found herself making room for him in -her carriage, much to the surprise of her maid Petra, who -was mounted upon the led horse, which in thought her -mistress had at first destined to the use of her unexpected -guest.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>However, when under the superintendence of Captain -Alva and Tio Reyes the youth was transferred from his -horse to the carriage, Doña Isabel saw at once that his -strength was so nearly spent that even with most careful -handling it was doubtful whether he would reach the -hacienda alive. She shrank away as his fair young head -was laid back upon the dark cushions, and his long limbs -were disposed upon blankets and cushions, as much to -avoid contact with that frame so evidently of alien mould -as to give all the space possible to the almost unconscious -sufferer. She scarce looked at him, as with effusive -thanks Alva bade her farewell, but forced her eyes, though -with no special interest or regret, upon the portion of her -flocks that was driven bleating before her carriage, -with mechanical kindness closing the window as the -horned cattle, bellowing and pawing the dust, followed, -and breathing a sigh of relief as the last of the revolutionary -force rode by, and the sound of their noisy march -grew fainter, and she realized that her own escort had -fallen into their places around her carriage, the slow -motion of which indicated that her interrupted journey -was resumed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For some time the thoughts of Doña Isabel were necessarily -directed to her wounded guest. The wound in the -shoulder had been bandaged with such skill and care as -could be offered by the self-trained doctor of the rancho, for -the nonce become army surgeon; and it would doubtless -have done well but for exposure and fatigue, which had -induced fever, in which the patient muttered uneasily and -even at times became violently excited, looking at Doña -Isabel with eyes of inexpressible brilliancy, catching her -cool white hands in his own burning ones and calling her -in endearing accents names which, though untranslatable -by her, were sweet to her ear. Perhaps, they were those -of mother or sister,—she almost longed to know. Later, -when under her tendance and that of the grooms, who -when she motioned for the carriage to be stopped often -came to her assistance, he sank into uneasy slumber, she -had opportunity to wonder at the impulse that had induced -<em>her</em> to receive this stranger of a race, that whether -American or English, she had long abjured, and to feel -once more as she gazed upon his wan features something -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>of the bitter detestation with which she had looked upon -Ashley’s dead face.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel started; the thought had entered her mind -just as they were emerging from the great chasm of rocks -which gave entrance to the plain, and she saw once more -the Eden from which she had been driven. The house -was so far distant still that she caught, across the fields -of tall corn, but a mere suggestion of its flat roofs and the -square turrets at the corners of the encircling walls; but -though more distant still, the tall chimney of the reduction-works -rose clearly defined against the sky,—so clearly that -she could see where a few bricks had fallen from the -cornice, and how a solitary pigeon was circling it in settling -to its nest. What a picture of solitariness! Doña -Isabel groaned, and covered her face with her hand. It -was as she had known it would be. The first objects to -meet her gaze were those that could waken the darkest -and bitterest memories. Why had she come? Oh that -she could retrace the rough path that she had traversed!</p> - -<p class='c001'>The wounded man groaned; he was fainting. “Hasten, -hasten!” she cried, “send Anselmo forward; bid them -prepare a bed. The road is not so rough; let them drive -faster!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Thus Doña Isabel’s words belied the desire of her heart, -for she could not by her own wish have approached her -home too slowly. This boy was a stranger, not even -brought thither by her will, as the other had been; yet as -the other had driven her forth, this one was hastening her -back. Was it fancy, or did the boy’s lips pronounce a -name? No, no! it was but her excited imagination. No -wonder! Did not the earth and sky, the wide circle of -the hills, all cry out to her, “What hast thou done? -Where is Herlinda?”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XVIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Although Chinita had divined aright when she declared -that the carriage she had seen in the distance could be no -other than that of Doña Isabel, and the sounds which -penetrated from the court announced the arrival of her -outrider, she was wrong in supposing that the lady herself -would be speedily at hand. There was a long delay in -which Doña Feliz had time to recover outwardly from -the agitation into which she was thrown, and accustom -herself to this verification of her foresight, when upon -hearing of the marriage of Carmen she had felt a conviction -that Doña Isabel in her loneliness and the unaccustomed -lack of interests around her would be irresistibly -attracted to the home she had virtually forsworn.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael having listened eagerly to the courier’s -account of the meeting with Ramirez’s band, left him to -give fuller details to the anxious villagers who gathered -around,—many of whom had sons or husbands at that -part of the hacienda lands known as the ranchito del -Refugio,—and rushed up to Doña Feliz with the news, -then down again to the court to mount a horse which had -been instantly saddled, and followed by a clerk and servants -galloped away to give meet welcome to the lady -who had just entered upon her own domains.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Calling the maids, Doña Feliz caused the long-disused -beds to be spread with fresh linen, and completed the preparations -for this vaguely yet confidently expected arrival. -“She had felt it in the air,” she said to herself, for she -knew nothing of any theory of second sight, nor had ever -reasoned, on the other hand, that even the most trivial -circumstances of life must work toward some given result, -which they instinctively foreshadow to the observant, -as the bodily eye makes out the reflection of a material -object in a dimmed and besmirched mirror. She bestirred -herself as if in a dream, her mind full of Doña Isabel and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>the past. Yet like an undercurrent beneath the flood of -her thoughts flowed the idea of the new element that -Doña Isabel was bringing with her. “A <em>foreigner</em>!” she -muttered, as if she could scarce believe her words. “Can -it be possible that the hand once stung can dally again -with the scorpion? Ah, no! necessity wears the guise -of heresy, but it is not possible that Doña Isabel can -forget.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She glanced around her; Chinita had disappeared. -Doña Feliz saw her no more until the long-delayed carriage -rolled into the court, when she descended to greet -her mistress.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The long summer’s day had almost waned, and so dark -was the court that torches of pitch-pine had been stuck -into rude sconces against the pillars, and the face of Doña -Isabel looked wan and ghastly in the lurid and flickering -glare. She could not descend from the carriage until the -wounded youth had been lifted out. Doña Feliz had -never seen but one man so fair. She started as her eyes -fell upon the yellow masses of hair that lay disordered -upon his brow, but pointed to a chamber which a woman -ran to open, and into which the stranger was carried: while -Doña Isabel, cramped and stiff, leaned upon the arm of -Don Rafael, and stepped to the ground. As she did so -she would have fallen but for two strong young hands -which caught hers, and as she involuntarily held them and -steadied herself she turned her eyes upon the face which -was level with her own. Her eyes opened widely, and -with an exclamation of actual horror she threw Chinita -from her with a sudden and violent struggle, and passed -proudly though tremblingly across the court.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael and Doña Feliz followed, too astounded to -make one movement to assist their lady’s ascent of the -stairs; but when they reached the corridor and heard the -door of the bed-chamber heavily closed, they turned toward -each other, their faces pale in the twilight. “Her thoughts -are serpents to lash her,” murmured Doña Feliz; adding -with a sort of national pride, “The Castillian woman may -choose to ignore, but she can never forget or forgive.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael shrugged his shoulders. How much with -some races a shrug may signify! His then was one of -dogged resolution. “It is well,” it seemed to say; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>he muttered, “As the mistress leads, the servant must -follow,” while his mother, shaking her head doubtfully, -pointed to the court below.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had rushed furiously away from the carriage -and the group of men, who after the first silence of surprise -had broken into but half-suppressed laughter, which -was soon lost in the babel of greetings that the disappearance -of Doña Isabel gave an opportunity for exchanging, -and scarcely knowing in her blind rage where she went, -had thrown herself upon one of the stone seats that -bordered the fountain, and with her small clinched fist -was beating the rugged stone. Pedro stood near her, his -face as indignant as her own, vainly endeavoring with a -voice that shook with anger to soothe her wounded pride, -while with one hand he strove to lead her away. She -spoke not a word. Suddenly, as the young face of the -girl was lifted to the light, Feliz clasped her hands together, -and leaned eagerly forward. She motioned to -Don Rafael,—she would not break the spell by speech; -but unheeding her he left the corridor and walked away, -and presently Pedro was obliged to hasten to his duties at -the doorway, and the girl and the woman were left alone -in the enclosure. Doña Feliz leaned motionless over the -railing. Chinita, still beating the stone with her fist, sat -upon the edge of the fountain. With her native instinct -of propriety, to meet Doña Isabel she had put on her -second best skirt—not the green one—and all her necklaces -circled her throat. Her hair was closely braided, -but curled wilfully round her brow and the nape of her -neck. She pulled at it abstractedly in a manner she had -when excited. Her face was turned aside, but to Doña -Feliz there was something strangely familiar in her -attitude,—something which suggested other personalities, -but of whom; which recalled the past, but how?</p> - -<p class='c001'>While Chinita still sat there, Doña Isabel came out of her -chamber and crossed to the side of Feliz. Her face -quivered as her eyes fell on the child, and she laid her -nervous white hand upon Feliz’s arm. The two women -looked at each other, but said not a word; the eyes of the -one were full of reproach, those of the other of defiant -distrust. When they turned them upon the court again, -the girl had moved noiselessly away. Her passion of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>anger was spent, and with the instinct of the Indian -strain in her mixed blood, she had gone to hide herself -away in some sheltered corner and brood sullenly upon -her wrongs.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As she passed through the many courts, reaching at -last that upon which the church opened, she was so absorbed -that she did not notice she was closely followed -by a man who had been very near when Doña Isabel -had repulsed her, and who with a few apparently careless -questions had possessed himself of all there was to -know of Chinita’s history.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Look you!” said one, “did not Pedro say that a man -as black as the devil dropped her into his hands? Who -knows but she is the fiend’s own child? Vaya, she -struck me over the face with talons like a cat’s only -last week.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And well thou deservedst it,” cried the boy called Pepé. -But he was laughed down by a shrill majority, for Doña -Isabel’s unaccountable repulse of her had turned the tide -of public opinion strongly against the foundling; and the -woman toward whom Tio Reyes—for he it was—now -turned for additional particulars, rightly judging that in -such matters female memories would prove most explicit, -crossed herself as she opined “that the fox knows much, -but more he who traps him, and that Pedro who had -found the girl could best tell whence she came,”—a saying -which elicited many nods and exclamations of approval, -for Pedro had never been believed quite honest in the -matter. A wild story that he had received the babe from -the hands of a beautiful and pallid spectre which had -once been seen to speak with him in the corridor, and that -this was the ghost of some lovely woman he had murdered -in those early days when he and Don Leon were comrades -in many a wild adventure, had passed into a sort of -legend, which if not entirely accepted, certainly was not -utterly disbelieved by any one.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Go thy way! She is the devil’s own brat,” cried the -wife of the man Chinita had once attacked.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay, to be sure!” cried another; “was it not to be -remembered how she had struggled and screamed when -the good Father Francisco baptized her, and had sputtered -and spat out the salt which the good priest had put in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>her mouth like a very cat. And little good had it done -her, for she had never been called by a Christian name.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tut! tut!” said the new-comer, “what need of a -name has such a pretty maid as that, or of a father or -mother either? Though ye women have no mercy, she’ll -laugh at you all yet. The lads will not be blind, eh -Pancho?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That they will not!” cried the lad Pepé, throwing a -meaning glance at Pancho as if daring him to take up the -cudgels in behalf of his old playfellow. “What care I -who she is? She’s not the first who came into the world -by a crooked road; and must all the women hint that it -began at the Devil’s door because they can’t trace it back? -Ay, they know enough ways to the same place.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Well said, young friend!” cried Tio Reyes with a -hearty slap on the boy’s shoulder. “But, hist! here comes -Pedro—with an ill look too in his eye. Ah! I thought -so,” as the men suddenly became noisily busy with the unsaddling -of their horses, and the women slipped away to -their household occupations. “Tio Pedro is not a man -to be trifled with. But, ah, there goes the girl!” and -in a moment of confusion he adroitly left the court without -being seen, and as has been said followed her steps -till, as she crouched behind one of the buttresses of the -church, he halted behind another and looked at her keenly, -impatient with the uncertain light, eager to approach her -before it darkened, yet waiting stoically until she was -settled in a sullen crouching attitude, probably for that -vigil of silence and hunger in which a ranchero’s anger -usually expends itself, or crystallizes into a revengeful -memory.</p> - -<p class='c001'>After some minutes, during which the girl neither -sobbed nor moved, he suddenly bent over and touched -her on the shoulder. She was accustomed to such intrusions, -and shook herself sullenly, not even looking up when -an unknown voice accosted her. “Hist, thou! I have -something for thee.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I want nothing, not manna from Heaven even.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“’T will prove better than that.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Then keep it thyself. Thou’rt a stranger. I take -neither a blow from a woman nor a gift from a man.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah!” said the man, coming a little nearer and laying -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>a hand lightly on her shoulder, “if thou wilt have no -gift, shall I <em>tell</em> thee something?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl shrugged her shoulder uneasily under his hand. -“I am not a baby to care for tales,” she said contemptuously; -yet the man noticed she turned her head slightly -toward him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thou art one of a thousand!” he ejaculated admiringly. -“Hey now, proud one, suppose I should tell thee -who thou art,—what wouldst thou give Tio Reyes for -that?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Bah!” said the girl, “I have never thought about it.” -Yet she was conscious that her heart began to beat wildly -and her voice sounded faint in her ears. A little picture -formed itself before her eyes, of Pepé and Marta and -Ranulfo and a score of others, waifs of humanity, and she -herself on a height looking down upon them. She had -never consciously separated herself from them,—she had -never even wished that she, like them, had at least a -mother; but presently she was conscious of a new feeling. -Yet she laughed as she said, “I was born then like -other children,—I had a mother?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That had you; but I am not going to sing all that’s in -the book, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>. The wise man talks little and the prudent -woman asks few questions, and thus fewer lies are -spoken.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But thou art not my father?” queried Chinita, insolently, -yielding to a sudden apprehension that seized her, -and turning full upon the stranger.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“God deliver me!” answered he; “badly fared the -owl that nourished the young eaglet.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tell me who I am!” cried Chinita, in a sudden passion -of eagerness clutching the man’s arm.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tut! tut! tut! that is not my business; and as you -will not hear my pretty little tale,”—for Chinita thrust -him violently aside,—“I will give you but one word of -warning and be gone: the old hind pushes at the young -fawn, but they both make venison.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita was accustomed to the obscure phraseology and -symbolical meanings of the thousand proverbs used by -her country people, and she instantly caught the idea the -speaker sought to convey; but its very audacity held her -silent for some moments. It was only after she had gazed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>at him long and searchingly that she could stammer, “Doña -Isabel—and I—Chinita—the same—of one blood!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The man nodded, but put his finger upon his lip. He -feared perhaps some wild outburst of surprise or exultation; -but instead she said in an awed whisper, “Is she -then my mother?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Tio Reyes leaned against the church and burst into -irrepressible though silent laughter. “What next will -the girl dream of?” he ejaculated at length, and laughed -again.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What, am I then such a fool?” asked Chinita, coolly, -though with inward rage. “Look you, if you had told -me yes, I would not have believed you any more than -I believed when Señor Enrique said that she had the -young American killed who died so many years ago. -Bah! one thing is as foolish as the other,” and she turned -away disdainfully.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What!” exclaimed the man, eagerly, “do they say -that? Humph! Well, things as strange as that have happened -in her day.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But that is a lie,” cried Chinita, excitedly; “it was only -because Doña Isabel would not interfere to save his son -from being shot as murderer and <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">ladron</span></i> that Enrique said -so. He went away himself the day after, and he it was who -led Calvo to the rancho del Refugio. But what has that -to do with us?” and now first, perhaps because there had -been time for the matter to take shape in her mind, she -showed an eager and excited curiosity. “Tell me who I -am; you surely have more to tell me than that I was born -Garcia!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The man stared, then cried, “And is not that enough? -Why, for a word thou canst be as good as Doña Isabel’s -daughter. With that face of thine she dare not refuse -thee anything.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita looked at him as if she would have torn his -secret from him. Strange to say, not a suspicion that -he was jesting with her entered her mind. Even as she -stood there almost in rags, she felt instinctively that she -was far removed from him. The one thought that she was -a Garcia, one of the family whom she looked upon as -the incarnation of wealth and power, overpowered every -other emotion, even that of curiosity. She was vexed, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>baffled that he said no more, yet felt as though she had -known all, and had but for a moment forgotten. She even -turned away from him with a momentary impulse to rush -into the presence of Doña Isabel and assail her with the -cry, “Look at me! Why did you thrust me away? I too -am a Garcia!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Stay!” cried Tio Reyes, as she started from his side. -Her wild thoughts had flashed by so rapidly that, quick -though he was to read the countenance, he had caught -scarce an inkling of what had passed through her mind, -and was certain only of the half-dazed dislike with which -she looked at him. It irritated and disappointed him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What, girl!” he said, “is not this news worth so -much as a ‘thank you’? Is it nothing to you whether -you are the dust of the roadway or a jewel of the mine? -Well, I lied to you. Ah! ah! what know I who you are? -It was my joke! Tio Reyes always likes a jest with a -pretty girl.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But this is no jest,” said Chinita, quick to perceive -that the man was already half repentant of his words; -“you can better put the ocean into a well, than shut up -the truth when it is once out. Ah, I did not need you to -tell me I was no beggar’s brat, picked up by chance on the -plain. I have heard them say that Pedro has rich clothes -which I was wrapped in. He has always laughed at me -when I have asked about them, but all the same he shall -show them to you this very night.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chut!” interrupted the man, “what should I know of -swaddling clothes? ’T is just a maid’s folly to think of -such trifles. They would not prove thee a Garcia, any -more than the lack of them belies it, or my mere word -insures it!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That which puzzles me is,” said Chinita, gravely, -turning her head on one side and looking at him keenly -by the dim light, “why you have told me this. Have -you been sent with a message from—from those who left -me here?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, by my faith,” said the man, laughing; “and -why do I laugh, think you? Why, you are the first one -who ever asked Tio Reyes for a reason. Does anybody -who knows me say, ‘Why did you take Don Fulano with -all his dollars safe through the mountains, and then allow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>that poor devil De Tal, who had not so much as a four-penny -piece, to be shot down like a dog by the wayside?’ -No, even the village idiot knows Tio Reyes has reasons -too great to be tossed from one to another like a ball; -and yet you ask me why I have told you the secret I have -kept for years, and perhaps expect an answer! No, no! -that plum is not ripe enough to fall at the first puff of -wind.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will tell you one thing, though you tell me nothing,” -said Chinita, shrewdly, after a pause: “It is not from love -to Doña Isabel that you have told me this, nor for love of -me either. What good have you done me by telling me I -am a Garcia? Why, if I had had the sense of a parrot, -I might have known it before.” It seemed to her in her -excitement as if, indeed, she had always known it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“A word to the wise is enough,” said the man, mysteriously. -“Keep your knowledge to yourself, but use -it to your advantage. You were sent like a package to -Doña Isabel years ago, but stopped by a clumsy messenger. -She finds you in her path now; let her find -something alive under the shabby coverings. God puts -many a sweet nut in a rough shell, many a poison in -despised weeds!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh!” cried Chinita, with a wicked little laugh, though -even at that moment the chords of kinship thrilled, “I am -but a weed to Doña Isabel, eh? Shall I go to her and -say, ‘Here is a Garcia to be trodden down’?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She said this with so superb an air of derision that the -man who unconsciously all his life had been an inimitable -actor in his way, muttered a deep <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">caramba</span></i> of enthusiastic -admiration.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I would by all the saints I could stay here to see -how you will goad and sting my grand Señora,” he said -vindictively. “Ay, remember you are a Garcia, with a -hundred old scores to pay off. I have put the cards in -your hands,—patience, and shuffle them well!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Patience, and shuffle your cards,”—those cards simply -the knowledge that she was a Garcia, with presumably -the wrongs of parents to avenge. The thoughts were not -very clear in her mind, but the instincts of resentment of -insult and of filial devotion were those which amid so -much that is ungenerous, evil, and fierce, ever pervade the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>breast of the Mexican. She turned again to ask almost -imploringly, “My father—my mother—who were they?” -when she found she was alone. The stranger had extorted -no promise of secrecy, offered no bribe; it was as if he -had put a weapon in her hand, knowing that its very preciousness -and subtlety would prevent her from revealing -whence she had received it, and would indicate the use -to which it was to be turned.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita leaned against the buttress and pondered. -Strangely enough, she did not for a moment think to -seek the man and demand further explanation. As she -felt he had divined her character, so she divined his. -He had said all he would say. After all, it was enough. -At the end of an hour she left that spot, which she -never saw after without a thrill of the heart, and walked -straight to the doorway where Pedro sat. He was eating -his supper mechanically, with a disturbed countenance, -which cleared when he saw her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“They are <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">tamales de chile</span></i>, daughter,” he said, pushing -toward her the platter, upon which lay some morsels -of corn-pastry and pepper-sauce, wrapped in corn-leaves. -“Eat, thou must be hungry.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro sighed, for perplexity and vexation had destroyed -his own appetite, and thought enviously, as Chinita’s white -teeth closed on the soft pastry, which was yellow in comparison, -“It is a good thing nothing but unrequited love -keeps the young from supping,—and that only for a -time.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The gate-keeper watched Chinita narrowly as she was -eating and drinking atole from the rough earthen jar. -There was some change in her he could not understand, -quite different from the passion in which he had last seen -her, or the languor which would naturally succeed it. She -did not talk, and something kept him from referring to the -scene in the courtyard; he felt that she would resent it. -Two or three times she bent over him and touched his -hand caressingly; yet he was not encouraged to smooth -her tangled hair, or offer any of those awkward proofs of -affection which she was wont to receive and laugh at or -return as the humor seized her; neither did he remind her -that it was getting late, but at last rose and took from his -girdle the key of the postern.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>“Put it back, Pedro!” she said in her softest voice. -“I shall never sleep in the hut with Florencia and the -children again; yet be not afraid, I will not go to the -corridor either. There is room and to spare in yon great -house.” She nodded toward the inner court, muttered -a good-night, and before Pedro could recover from his -surprise sufficiently to speak, swiftly crossed the patio -and disappeared.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro looked after her stupefied. He realized that a -great gulf had opened between them; that figuratively -speaking, his foster-child had left him forever. He looked -like one who, holding a pet bird loosely in his hand, had beheld -it suddenly escape him, and soar across a wide and -bridgeless chasm. Would it dash itself into atoms against -the opposite cliffs, or perchance reach a safe haven? Such -was the essence of the thoughts for which Pedro framed no -words. “God is great,” he muttered at length, “and -knows what He does;” adding with a sort of heathen and -dogged obstinacy, “but Pedro still is here; Pedro does -not forget <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>!” He looked up as if to some invisible -auditor, crossed himself, then wearily threw himself upon -his pallet; but weary as he was, the strong young subject -of his cares was sunk in deep and dreamless sleep long -before he closed his eyes.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XIX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Once within the court, Chinita paused and looked -around her cautiously. The doors of the lower rooms -stood open, and she might have entered any one of them -unnoticed and found a shelter for the night. But she -was in no mood for solitude. Indeed it was hard for her -to check a certain wild impulse that seized her, as she -saw a faint glimmer of light which streamed through a -slight opening of a door on the upper corridor, and that -urged her to rush at once into the presence of Doña Isabel -and claim recognition. To what relationship, and to -what rights, she did not ask herself; a positive though -undefined certainty that Doña Isabel herself would know, -and would be forced to yield her justice, possessed her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita was now a child neither in stature nor mind, -but though so young in years, had reached the first development -of her powers with the mingled precocity of the -Indian and Spaniard, fostered by a clime that seems the -very elixir of passion. She had been maturing rapidly in -the last few months, and as she stood that night in the -faint starlight, the last trace of childhood seemed to drop -visibly from her. She folded her arms on her breast, and -sighed deeply,—not for sorrow, but as if she breathed a -life that was new to her, and her lungs were oppressed -by the weight of a strange and too heavily perfumed -atmosphere.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In her absorption Chinita was unconscious that she was -observed,—but it chanced that Don Rafael Sanchez and -his mother had just left the Señora Doña Isabel, and were -passing through the upper corridor to their own apartments. -The gallery was wide and they were in the shadow, -but a stray gleam of light touched the upturned face of the -girl and exhibited it in strong relief within the framing -of her waving hair. As they caught sight of it, they -involuntarily paused to look at her.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>“I do not wonder,” whispered Feliz “that such a face -is an accusing conscience to Doña Isabel. There is a -strange familiarity in every feature; and what a spirit, too, -she has,—one even to glory in strife!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael nodded. “There has always seemed to me -something in that child to mark her as the offspring of a -dominant family,” he said; “it is inevitable that she must -break the lines an adverse Fate has cast about her. -Others such as she stretch out a hand to Vice; if something -better comes to her, who are we to hinder it?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The brow of Doña Feliz contracted. “Ay, Rafael,” -she murmured, “what a change a few miserable years -have wrought! Once I was a sister to Doña Isabel, and -now—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You are no traitress,” interposed Don Rafael, “and -it is by circumstance only that the change has come. -Console yourself, dear mother, and remember we are -pledged. Though we seem false to her mother, only so -can we be true to Herlinda.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He breathed the name so low that even Doña Feliz did -not hear it; she listened rather to the beating of the heart -that seemed to repeat without cessation the name of one -so loved and lost. “How strange it is, Rafael,” she said -presently, “that I have such persistent, such mocking -dreams, which against my reason, against all precedent, -create in me the belief that all is not ended for Herlinda -Garcia.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael looked at her musingly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There is a man called Juarez who has dreams such as -yours,” he said; “but they are of the freedom of a race, -not of one woman alone. But he is hardly able to work -miracles. Yet, mother, this truly is the time of prodigies; -what think you this boy, the young American that Doña -Isabel brought hither, calls himself?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I have asked him,” she said, “but he did not understand -me. Oh, Rafael! my heart stood still when I saw -him first; yet after all he is not so very like—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yet he has the same name, Mother. It may be but -chance; those Americans are half barbarians as we know,—they -forget the saints, and seek to glorify their great -men by giving their children as Christian names the -surnames of those who have distinguished themselves in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>battle or statesmanship. Sometimes, too, a mother proud -of the surname of her own family gives it to her son. It -may have been so with this man. When I gave him pen -and paper, and bade him write his name, it was thus: -‘Ashley Ward.’”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The name as spoken by Don Rafael was mispronounced, -would have been hardly recognizable in the ears of him -who owned it; yet to Doña Feliz it was like a trumpet -blast. “Strange! strange! strange!” she repeated again -and again. “Can it be mere chance?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That we shall soon know,” said Don Rafael. “These -Americans blurt out their affairs to the first comer, -expecting help from every quarter. There is no rain that -falls but that they fancy it is to water their own field. -Nay, mother,” as Doña Feliz made a movement toward -the stairway, “go not near the man to-night; he has -fever, and is in need of quiet. Old Selsa is with him, and -he can need no better care. He is safe to remain here -many days; let him rest in peace now. And do you, -mother, try to sleep; you are weary and worn.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>With the filial solicitude of a true Mexican, the man, -already middle-aged, took his mother’s hand fondly and led -her to the door of her own apartment. There she detained -him long in low and earnest conversation, and when on -leaving her he looked down into the court it was entirely -deserted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In glancing around her, Chinita’s eyes had caught no -glimpse of the figures above, perhaps because they had -been diverted by a faint glimmer of light at one angle of -the courtyard; and remembering that this came from -the room to which the wounded man had been carried, she -darted swiftly and noiselessly toward it, and in a moment -had pushed the door sufficiently ajar to admit of her -entrance, and had passed in. She arrested her footsteps -at the foot of the narrow bed, which extended like a bier -from the wall to the centre of the room. There was not -another article of furniture in the apartment, except a -chair upon which the sick man’s coat was thrown; but -Chinita’s eyes, accustomed to the vault-like and vacant -suites of square cells that made up the greater part of the -vast building, were struck with no sense of desolation. A -slender jar of water, and a number of earthen utensils of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>different forms and shapes, containing medicaments and -food, were gathered upon the floor near the bed’s head; -and on a deep window-ledge was placed a sputtering tallow-candle, -which had already half filled with grease the clay -sconce in which it was sunk.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As Chinita leaned over the foot of the bed and peered -through her unkempt locks at its occupant, he looked up -with a start, and presently said something in an appealing -tone, which certainly touched her more than the -words, could she have understood them, would have done. -He had in fact exclaimed in English, with an unmistakable -American intonation, “Heavens, what a gypsy! and -what can she want here in this miserable jail they have -left me in?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She thought he had perhaps asked for water, so she -gave him some, which was not unacceptable,—though it -irritated him that after giving him the cup, she took up -the candle and held it close to his face while he drank. -She was in the mood for new impressions however rather -than for kindness, and the sight of a strange face pleased -her. Burning with fever though he was, and tossing with -all the impatience natural to his condition, he could not -but notice the totally unaffected ease with which she -made her inspection. He might have been a curly-headed -infant instead of a man, so utterly unconcernedly did she -look into his dark-blue eyes, and note the broad white -brow upon which his damp yellow hair clustered, even -touching lightly with her finger the firm white throat -bared by the opened collar sufficiently to expose the clumsily -arranged dressings on the wounded <a id='corr141.30'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='shoulder,'>shoulder.</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_141.30'><ins class='correction' title='shoulder,'>shoulder.</ins></a></span> Instantly, -with a few deft movements, she made them more comfortable, -for which the young man thanked her in a few of -the very scanty words of Spanish at his command,—at -which she laughed, not ironically, but with a sort of nervous -irrelevance, thinking to herself the while, “He is beautiful—bless -me, yes! as beautiful as they say the murdered -American was! Who knows? this one may come from -the same district! It must be but a little place, his -country,—there cannot be such a very great world outside -the mountains yonder; they touch heaven everywhere. -Look now, how white his arms are, and his brow, where -the sun has not touched it! and how red his cheeks! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>But that must be with the fever.” And so half audibly -she made her comments upon the wounded stranger, seemingly -entirely unconscious or regardless that there was any -mind or soul within this body she so frankly admired,—lifting -his unwounded arm sometimes, or turning his face -into better view, as she might have done parts of a -mechanism that pleased her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Evidently she thinks me wooden,” he said with a -gleam of humor in his eyes. “As I am dumb to her, she -believes me also senseless and sightless. Thanks, for -taking away that ill-smelling candle,” as with the offending -taper in her hand she passed to the other side of -the bed. Then she stopped and laughed, and he remembered -that he had seen the old woman who had been left -in charge of him arrange her sheepskins there and throw -herself upon them. Until the young girl had come, old -Selsa’s snores had vexed him; since that he had forgotten -them, though now they became audible again. As Chinita -laughed, she placed the candle-stick upon the window-ledge -and looked around her, stretching herself and yawning. -The hour was late for her, the diversion caused by sight -of the blond stranger and the little service she had rendered -him had relaxed the tension of her mind, and she -felt herself aweary; the shadows fell dark in every corner -of the room,—there was something grewsome in its aspect -even to Chinita’s accustomed eyes. It subdued her wild -and reckless mood, and she scanned the place narrowly -for something upon which she might lie. Presently the -young man saw her glide toward the sleeping nurse, and -deftly, with a half mischievous, half triumphant expression -upon her face, draw out one of the sheepskin mats upon -which the old woman was lying, and taking it to the opposite -side of the bed arrange it to her liking upon the -brick floor, and sinking upon it softly and daintily as a -cat might have done, compose herself to sleep.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The candle on the window-sill sputtered and flickered; -old Selsa snored in her corner, seemingly undisturbed -by the abstraction of a part of her bed; the shadows in -the apartment grew longer and longer; the eyelids of -the young girl closed, her regular breathing parted her full -lips. The young man had painfully raised himself upon -one arm, and assured himself of this. He himself was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>dropping off into snatches of slumber which promised -to become profound, when suddenly with a start he -found himself wide awake, and staring at a draped -figure which had noiselessly glided into his chamber. Save -for the candle it bore he would have thought it a visitant -from another world; but his first surprise over, he -recognized it as that of a woman. He was conscious -that his heart beat wildly; his fever had returned. -Where had he seen this pale proud face, these classic -features, these dark penetrating eyes? For a moment -again he felt as if swinging between heaven and earth, -between life and death. Ah! yes, he comprehended,—he -had been brought thither in some swaying vehicle, -and this woman had been beside him; she perhaps had -saved his life.</p> - -<p class='c001'>He murmured a word of thanks, but she did not notice -it. “Señor,” she said in a voice soft in courtesy, “I pray -you forgive me that I had for a little time forgotten my -guest. I trust you lack for nothing? Ah! what—alone?” -and with a frown, she made a motion as if to awaken -the servant Selsa. He understood the gesture though -not the words, and stopped her by one as expressive.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no!” he exclaimed. “I too shall sleep; and -she is old. I would not awaken her. See, if I need anything -a touch of my hand will rouse this girl,”—and the -young man indicated by a turn of his head and arm the -recumbent figure which his visitor had not observed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With some curiosity she moved to the opposite side of -the bed, and bending over lightly removed the fringe of the -reboso which shaded the face of the sleeper. Doña Isabel -started, and a slight exclamation escaped her lips as she -turned hurriedly away,—as hurriedly returning, and shading -the candle with her hand, that its light might not fall -upon the eyes of the sleeper, she gazed upon the young -girl long and earnestly. Unmindful of herself, she suffered -the full glare of the candle to illuminate her own countenance; -and as he looked upon it, the young American -thought it might serve as the very model for the mask of -tragedy. Nothing more pitiless, more remorseless, more -sombre than its expression could be imagined; yet as she -gazed, a flush of shame rose from neck to brow. Her eyes -clouded, her breath came with a quick gasp. She stood -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>for a moment clasping the rod at the foot of the bed with -her white nervous hand; she looked at the American -fixedly, yet she seemed to have no consciousness that -she herself was seen; and presently, with the slow movement -of a somnambulist, so absorbing was her thought, -she turned to the door.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley was watching her intently; suddenly her light was -extinguished, and she vanished as if dissolved in air. He -was calm enough to remember that she had spoken to him, -to know that she could be no phantom of his imagination, -and to suppose that upon stepping into the corridor she -had extinguished her light, and sped noiselessly along the -wall to some other apartment; yet for a long time a feeling -of mystery oppressed him, and he could not sleep. A vague -consciousness of some strange influence near him kept him -feverish, with all his senses on the alert; yet he heard no -movement of the woman who crouched within the doorway, -leaning against the cold wall, and who during the long silent -night passed in review the strange events that had brought -her—the Señora Isabel Garcia de Garcia—to guard the -slumbers of a foundling, the foster-child of a man so low -in station as the gate-keeper of her house.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Doña Isabel Garcia had been born within the walls -of Tres Hermanos, her father having been part owner of -the estate, and her mother the daughter of an impoverished -gentleman of the neighboring city of Guanapila. Doña -Clarita had been a most beautiful woman, whose attractions -had been utilized to prop the falling fortunes of her house -by her marriage with the elderly but kindly proprietor Don -Ignacio Garcia.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At the time of her marriage, Clarita Rodriguez was very -young, and with the habits of submission universal among -her countrywomen would probably have taken kindly to her -fate, never doubting its justice, but that from her balcony she -had one day seen a young officer of the city troop ride by -in all the magnificence of the military uniform of the period. -A dazzling vision of gold lace and braid, clanking spurs -and sabre, and of eyes and teeth and smile more dazzling -still, haunted her for weeks. Yet that might have passed, -but that the vision glided from the eye to the heart, when -on one luckless night, at the governor’s ball, Pancho Vallé -was introduced to her, and they twice were partners in that -lover’s delirium the slow and voluptuous <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">danza</span></i>. As they -moved together in the dreamy measure, a few low words -were exchanged,—commonplace perhaps but not harmless, -and by one at least never to be forgotten. Afterward an -occasional missive penned in most regular characters upon -daintily tinted paper came to her hands through some complaisant -servant. But Don Ranulfo Rodriguez was too -jealous a guardian to suffer many such to escape him, and -had been far too wise in his generation to place it in his -daughter’s power to engage in such dangerous pastime as -the production of replies to unwelcome suitors. Like most -other girls of her age and position, Clarita had been strenuously -prevented from learning to write, and it is doubtful -if she ever knew the exact import of Vallé’s perfumed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>missives, although her heart doubtless guessed what her -eyes could not decipher.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Whether Vallé’s impassioned glances meant all they indicated -or not, certain it was that he had not ventured to -declare himself to the father as a suitor for the fair Clarita’s -hand, when Don Ignacio Garcia stepped in and literally -carried away the prize. The courtship had been short, -the position of the groom unassailable. Clarita shed some -tears, but the delighted father declared they were for joy -at her good fortune; and they were indeed of so mixed a -character—baffled love, wounded pride, and an irrepressible -sense of triumph at her unexpected promotion—that -she herself scarce cared to analyze them. She danced -with Vallé once again on the occasion of her marriage; -again a few words were spoken, and the passionate heart -of Clarita was pierced with a secret dart, which never -ceased to rankle.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Ignacio Garcia conducted her immediately to the -hacienda, where his jealous nature found no cause for suspicion; -and there the little Isabel was born; and on beholding -the wealth of maternal affection which the young -wife lavished upon her child, the husband forgot the indifference -that had sometimes chafed him, and for a few -brief months imagined himself beloved. This egotistic -delusion was never dispelled, for at its height, upon the -second anniversary of their wedding day, when taking -part in a bull-chase, Don Ignacio’s horse swerved as he -urged him to the side of the infuriated animal; a moment’s -hesitancy was fatal; the horse was ripped open by -the powerful horn of the bull, and plunging wildly, fell back -upon his luckless rider, whose neck was instantly broken. -It was an accident which it seemed incredible could have -happened to a man so skilled in horsemanship as was Don -Ignacio. The spectators were for a moment dumb with -horror and surprise, then with groans and shrieks rushed -to the rescue, but only to lift a corpse. Doña Clarita with -a wild shriek had fainted as the horse plunged back, and -upon regaining her senses, threw herself in an agony of -not unremorseful grief upon the body of her husband. It -was, however, of that violent character which soon expends -itself; and before the funeral obsequies were well -over, she began to look around the narrow horizon of Tres -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>Hermanos, and remember, if not rejoice, that she was free -to go beyond it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Gregorio, the cousin of Clarita’s husband’s, though -a mere boy, had been brought up on the estate, and was -competent to take charge, and the administrador and -clerks were trusty men; so there was no absolute reason -why the young widow should remain to guard her interests -and those of her child, and it seemed but natural -she should return to her father’s house, at least during -the first months of her sorrow. Thither indeed she -went. She had dwelt there before, a dependent child, to -be disposed of at her father’s will; she returned to it a -rich widow, profuse of her favors but tenacious of her -rights, one of which all too soon proclaimed itself to be -that of choosing for herself a second husband. A month -or two after her arrival in the city, Don Pancho Vallé returned -from some expedition in which patriotism and personal -gain were deftly combined, with the halo of success -added to his personal attractions, and was quick to declare -an unswerving devotion to the divinity at whose shrine he -had worshipped but doubtfully while it remained ungilded -by the sun of prosperity. Whether Clarita had learned to -read or not, certain it is that Don Pancho’s impassioned -missives met with a response more satisfactory than pen -and ink alone could give, for immediately after the expiration -of the year due to the memory of Don Ignacio, she -became the wife of the gay soldier.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Pancho and his wife were both young, both equally -delighted in excitement and luxury; and within an incredibly -short time the ample resources which had seemed -to them boundless were perceptibly narrowed. To the -taste for extravagant living, for gorgeous apparel, for -numerous and magnificent horses, shared by them in common, -were added a passionate love of gambling, and a -scarcely less expensive one for military enterprises of an -independent and half guerilla order, on the part of Don -Pancho; and thus a few years saw the wife’s fortune -reduced to an encumbered interest in the lands of Tres -Hermanos.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Pancho in spite of numerous infidelities still retained -his influence over the heart and mind of Clarita; -and one night in play against Don Gregorio Garcia—who, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>like other caballeros, occasionally engaged in a game -or two for pastime—he staked the last acre of her estate, -knowing she would refuse him nothing, and lost. For a -moment he looked blank,—a most unwonted manifestation -of dismay in so practised a gambler,—then laughed -and shook hands with his fortunate opponent. There was -a laughing group around him, condoling with him banteringly, -for Pancho Vallé had never seemed to make any -misfortune a serious matter, when a pistol-shot was heard. -For a moment no one realized what had happened; the -young officer stood in his gay uniform, smiling still, his -gold-mounted pistol in his hand, then fell heavily forward. -The ball had passed through his heart. His widow had -the satisfaction of seeing by the smile that remained on -his handsome countenance that he had died as joyously -as he had lived; not a trace of care showed that aught -deeper than mere pique and caprice had moved him. -“Angel of my life!” she cried, when her first burst of -grief was over, “thou wert beginning to make my heart -ache, for I had nothing more to give thee!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>This was her only word of reproach, if reproach it might -be called. For love that woman would have yielded even -her life, and never have known the hollowness of her idol. -Grief did the work that ingratitude and neglect—nay -absolute cruelty—would perhaps never have effected, and -in a few short months destroyed her life. As she was -dying she called her daughter to her. “Isabel,” she said, -“thou hast wealth, thy brother has nothing; swear to me -by the Virgin and thy patron saint, that thou wilt be as a -mother to him, that thou wilt refuse him nothing that thy -hand can give! Money, money, money, is what makes -men happy!” That had been the creed her life’s experience -had taught her. For money her father had sold her; -for that the husband she adored had given her fair words -and caresses. “As thou wouldst have thy mother’s blessing, -promise me that Leon shall never appeal to thee in -vain!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Isabel Garcia was but a child, and the boy Leon but -three years younger; yet as she looked upon her dying -mother she solemnly promised to fill her place, to take -upon herself the rôle of sacrifice, which her religion taught -her was that of motherhood. Poor Clarita! little had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>she understood a mother’s highest duties,—to warn, to -guide, to plead with God for the beloved. The mere -yielding of material things,—to clothe herself in sackcloth, -that the child might be robed in purple, to walk barefoot -that he might ride in state, to hunger that he might be -delicately fed,—she had pictured these things to herself -as the purest sacrifices, and surely the only ones to appeal -to the hearts of such men as she had known; and the -young Isabel entered upon her task with her mother’s precepts -deeply engraved upon her heart, her mind all uninstructed, -awaiting the iron finger of experience to write -upon it its lessons.</p> - -<p class='c001'>After their mother’s death, the young brother and sister, -mere children both, went to live in the house of some -elderly relatives, who with generous though not always -judicious kindness strove to forget the faults of the father -by ignoring them when they became apparent in the boy. -The uncle of Isabel, the Friar Francisco, became their -tutor, but taught them little beyond the breviary. What -could a woman need with more? As for Leon, he took -more kindly to the lasso and saddle, to the pistol and -sword, than to the book or pen,—and even while still a -child in years, more passionately still to the gaming table. -Though his elders with a shake of the head remembered -his father’s fate, and sometimes pushed the boy half laughingly -away from the monté table, or of a Sunday afternoon -sent him out to the bull-ring for his diversion, where he -was a mere spectator, rather than to the cock-pit, where he -became a participant, yet the question did not present -itself as one at all of questionable morals: every one -gambled on a feast day, or at a social game among one’s -friends. Perhaps of all those by whom he was surrounded, -no one felt any serious anxiety for Leon except the young -girl who with premature solicitude warned him of the -evil, even as she supplied the means to indulge his wayward -tastes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Leon was a brilliant rather than a handsome boy, promising -to be well grown; and his lithe, vigorous figure -showed to good advantage in his gay riding-suits, whether -of sombre black cloth with silver buttons set closely down -the outer seam of the pantaloons and adorning the short -round jacket, or in loose <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">chapareras</span></i> of buckskin bound by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>a scarlet sash and bedizened with leather fringes,—a costume -that perhaps served to betray the Indian strain -in his blood, which ordinarily was detected only by a -slight prominence of the cheek bones and a somewhat -furtive expression in the soft dark eyes. At unguarded -moments, however, perhaps when he fancied himself unobserved -and was practising with his pistol or sabre, those -eyes could flash with concentrated fire, so that more than -once Isabel had been constrained to call out: “Leon, -Leon, you frighten me! You look like the great cat when -he pounces upon a harmless little bird and crushes it for -the very joy of killing!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Then Leon would laugh, and the soft, dreamy haze -would rise again over the eyes as he would turn upon -her. “Ha!” he would say, “you will never be a man, -Isabel; you will never understand why I love the sights and -sounds that throw you poor women into fainting fits and -tears. Ha! Isabel, if I were you I’d not stay in this dull -house with a couple of old women to guard me, when you -might go to the hacienda and be free as air.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Nonsense,” Isabel would retort; “what could I do -there other than here? I could not turn herdsman or -vaquero, nor even ride out to the fields to see how the -crops were flourishing, nor roam like an Indian through -the mountains.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But <em>I</em> would!” Leon would cry enthusiastically; and -with his longing ardor for the free life of a country gentleman, -with its barbaric luxury and wild sports, he thus -first put into the young girl’s mind the thought of favoring -the suit which her cousin, Don Gregorio Garcia, began -to urge.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Gregorio had married young, soon after the death -of Ignacio Garcia whom he succeeded in the management -of the estate of which they had been joint owners; but his -wife had died leaving him without an heir, and the first grief -assuaged, it was but natural after the passage of years -that the widower should weary of his loneliness. There -were many reasons why his thoughts should turn to his -distant cousin Isabel, for though she was many years -younger than himself, such disparity of age was not -unusual; the marriage would unite still more closely the -family fortunes, and effectually prevent the intrusion of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>any undesirable stranger; and above all, Isabel was gracious -and queenly and beautiful enough to charm the -heart even of an anchorite, and Don Gregorio was far -from being one. Indeed, in his very early years he had -given indications of a partiality for a far more adventurous -career than he had finally, by force of circumstances, -been led to adopt. Thus he sympathized somewhat with -Leon’s restless activity, and quite honestly secured the -boy’s alliance,—no slight advantage in his siege of the -heart of Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This, perhaps more than the good-will of the rest of the -family, enabled Don Gregorio to approach so nearly to -Isabel’s inmost nature that he learned far more of the -strength of purpose and capability for passionate devotion -possessed by the young untrained girl than any other being -had done, and for the first time in his life knew a love far -deeper and purer than any passion which mere physical -charms could awaken. Such a love appealed to Isabel. She -was perhaps constitutionally cold to sexual charms, but -eminently susceptible to the sympathetic attrition of an -appreciative mind, while her heart could translate far -more readily the rational outpourings of friendship than -the wild rhapsodies of passion. Thus, although Isabel -would have shrunk from a man who in his ardor would -have demanded of her affection some sacrifice of the unqualified -devotion that she had vowed to her brother, she -seemed to find in Don Gregorio one who could understand -and applaud the exaggerated devotion to the ideal standard -of filial and sisterly duty which she had unconsciously -erected upon the few utterly irrational words of a weak -and dying woman.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The first four years of Isabel’s married life passed uneventfully. -Leon was constantly near her, and was the -life of the great house, which despite the crowd of retainers -that frequented it would without him have proved -but a dull dwelling for so young a matron, with no illusions -in regard to the staid and kindly husband, who was -rather a friend to be consulted and revered than a lover -to be adored,—for although Don Gregorio worshipped -his beautiful young wife, he was at once too mindful of his -own dignity, and too wary of startling Isabel’s passionless -nature, to manifest or exact romantic and exhaustive -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>proofs of affection. He used sometimes to mutter to himself: -“‘The stronger the flame the sooner the wood is -burnt;’ better that the substance of love should endure -than be dissipated in smoke!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Gregorio was somewhat of a philosopher; and as -such, as soon as the glamour thrown over him by Leon’s -brilliant but inconsequent sallies of wit, and his daring -and dashing manner, was dimmed, and above all as soon -as his unreasoning sympathy with Isabel’s predispositions -settled into a calm and sincere desire for her certain happiness -and welfare, he began to look with some suspicion -upon traits which had at first attracted him as the natural -outcome of an ardent and generous nature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Friar Francisco had accompanied the young brother -and sister to the hacienda, partly to minister in the church, -and partly as tutor to Leon; but in the latter capacity he -found little exercise for his talents. Upon one pretext or -another the boy at first evaded and later absolutely refused -study; but he joined so heartily in the labors as -well as pleasures of hacienda life,—he was so ready in resource, -so untiring in action, so companionable alike to -all classes, that Nature seemed to have fitted him absolutely -for the position that he was apparently destined to -fill in life. Yet though he was the prince of rancheros, the -life of the city sometimes seemed to possess an irresistible -attraction for him; and after months perhaps spent among -the employees of the hacienda, in riding with the vaqueros -or in penetrating the recesses of the mountain, even sleeping -in the huts of charcoal burners, or in caves with rovers -of still more doubtful reputation, he would suddenly weary -of it all, and followed by a servant or two ride gayly -down to the city to see how the world went there.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At first Don Gregorio had no idea how much those -visits cost Isabel; but as time went on, and rumors -reached them of the boy’s extravagant mode of life, Isabel -became anxious and Don Gregorio indignant. Some -investigation showed that a troop of young roysterers -who called him captain were maintained in the mountains, -and that a thousand wild freaks which had mystified -the neighboring villages and haciendas might be -traced to these mad spirits, among whom Don Gregorio -shrewdly conjectured might be found many of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>most daring young fellows, both of the higher and -lower orders, who had one by one mysteriously disappeared -during the few months preceding Leon’s eighteenth -birthday.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Leon only laughed when taxed with his guerilla following, -and although as he managed it it was a somewhat -costly amusement, it was not an unusual or an altogether -useless one in those days of anarchy; for no one could -say how soon the fortunes of war might turn an enemy -upon the land and stores of Tres Hermanos, and even -Don Gregorio was not displeased to find the most refractory -of his retainers placed in a position to defend rather -than imperil the interests of the estate. As to the escapades -of city life he found them less pardonable, for -they consisted chiefly in mad devotion to the gaming-table, -which Leon was never content to leave until his varying -fortunes turned to disaster and his wild excitement was -quelled by the tardy reflection that his sister’s generosity -would be taxed in thousands to pay the folly of a night.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Before the age of twenty Leon Vallé had run the gamut -of the vices and extravagances peculiar to Mexican youths, -and large as the resources of Doña Isabel were, he had -begun to encroach seriously upon them; for true to her -mother’s request, she had never refused to supply his -demands for money, though of late she had begun to make -remonstrances, which were received half incredulously, half -sullenly, as though he realized neither their justice nor their -necessity. Isabel was now a mother, her daughter Herlinda -having been born a year after her marriage, and their son -Norberto, the pride and hope of Don Gregorio, three years -later; and naturally the young mother longed to consider -the interests of her children, which so far as her own -property was concerned seemed utterly obliterated and -overwhelmed by the mad extravagances of her brother.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Strangely enough, Don Gregorio attempted no interference -with his wife’s disposal of her income, though it -seemed not improbable that at no distant day even the -lands would be in jeopardy. Perhaps he foresaw that as -her means to gratify his insatiable demands declined, so -gradually Leon’s strange fascination over his sister would -cease; for inevitably his restless spirit would draw him -afar to find fresh fields for adventure, since in those days, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>when the great struggle between Church and State was -beginning and foreign complications were forming, such a -leader as he might prove to be would find no lack of -occasion for daring deeds and reckless followers, nor -scarcity of plunder with which to repay the latter.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Whatever were his thoughts, Don Gregorio guarded -them well, saying sometimes either to Leon himself, or to -some friend who expressed a half horrified conjecture as -to where such absolute madness must end, “See you not, -’t is foolish to squeeze the orange until one tastes the bitterness -of the rind?” He expected some sudden and violent -reaction in Isabel’s mind and conduct. But though -she began to show she realized and suffered, she bore the -strain put upon her with royal fortitude. Youth can hope -through such adverse circumstances, and it always seemed -to her that one who “meant so well” as Leon, must -eventually turn from temptation and begin a new and -nobler career.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At last what appeared to Isabel the turning point in -her brother’s destiny was reached. He became violently -enamored of the beautiful daughter of a Spaniard, one -Señor Fernandez, who of a family too distinguished to be -flattered by an alliance with a mere attaché of a wealthy -and powerful house, was so poor as to be willing to consider -it should a suitable provision be made to insure his -daughter’s future prosperity. The beautiful Dolores was -herself favorably inclined toward the gay cavalier, who -most ardently pressed his suit,—the more ardently perhaps -that he was piqued and indignant that the wary -father utterly refused to consider the matter until Don -Gregorio or Doña Isabel herself should formally ask the -hand of his daughter, presenting at the same time unmistakable -assurances of Leon’s ability to fulfil the promises -he recklessly poured forth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That Leon had turned from his old evil courses seemed -as months passed on an absolute certainty. Not even the -administrador himself could be more utterly bound to the -wheel of routine than he. To see his changed life, his absolute -repugnance even to the sports suitable to his age, -was almost piteous; his whole heart and mind seemed set -upon atonement for the folly of the past, and in preparation -for a life of toil and anxiety in the future. For in examining -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>into her affairs, Doña Isabel found that her income -was largely overdrawn; Leon’s extravagances, together -with heavy losses incurred in the working of the reduction-works, -had so far crippled her resources that it was only -by stringent effort, and an appeal to Don Gregorio for aid, -that she was enabled so to rehabilitate the fortunes of -Leon that he could hope to win the prize which was to -make or mar his future.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel was as happy as the impatient lover himself -when she could place in his hands the deeds of a small -but productive estate, famous for the growth of the maguey, -from which the sale of pulque and mescal promised a -never failing revenue. The money had been raised largely -through concessions made by Don Gregorio, and was to -be repaid from the income of Isabel’s encumbered estate, -so that for some years at least it would be out of her -power to render Leon any further assistance. Don Gregorio -shook his head gravely over the whole matter; yet -the fact that the young man was virtually thrown upon the -resources provided for him, which certainly without the -concentration of all his energies and tact would be altogether -insufficient for his maintenance, and also that he -had great faith in the energy of character which for the -first time appeared diverted into a legitimate channel, inclined -him to believe that at last, urged by necessity as -well as love, Leon would redeem his past and settle down -into the reputable citizen and relative who was to justify -and repay the sister’s tireless and extraordinary devotion. -“Or at least,” he said to himself, “Isabel will be satisfied -that no more can or should be done; and it is worth a fortune -to convince her of that.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Strangely enough, though Isabel had addressed herself -with a frenzy of determination to the task of securing a -competency for Leon that might enable him to marry and -enter upon a life which was to relieve her of the constant -drain upon her resources, both material and mental, which -for years had been sapping her prosperity and peace, yet -as she beheld him ride away toward the town in which -his inamorata dwelt to make the final arrangements for his -marriage, her heart sank within her; and instead of relief -and thankfulness, she felt a frightful pang of apprehension, -she knew not why, as if a prophetic voice warned her that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>her own hand had opened the door to a chamber of horrors, -through which the smiling youth would pass and drag her -as he went.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Isabel threw herself upon her husband’s breast in an -agony which he could not comprehend, but which he -gently soothed, happy to feel that to him she turned in the -first moment of her abandonment,—for indeed she felt that -she who had given her substance, her sympathy, her faith, -all of which a sister’s life is capable, was indeed abandoned, -and all for a fresh young face, a word, a smile. Leon -was a changed man, but all her devotion had not worked -the miracle; another whose love could be as yet but a fancy -had accomplished what years of sacrifice from her had -striven for in vain!</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was something of jealousy, but far more of the -pain of baffled aspiration in the thought, and through it all -that dreadful doubt, that sickening dread as to whether -she had done well thus to strip herself of the power to -minister to him. It seemed, even against her reason, impossible -that Leon could be beyond the pale of her bounty; -she had been so accustomed to plan, to think, to plot for -him, that she could not grasp the thought that henceforth he -was to live without her, that she was to know him happy, -joyous, at ease, and she no longer be the immediate and -ministering Providence which made him so.</p> - -<p class='c001'>After the infant Carmen was born, the mother’s thoughts -turned into other channels. As she looked at this child, -the thought for the first time came to her, that some day -it might be possible that her children would inherit some -material good from her. Their father was a rich man, yet -there was a pleasure in the thought that her children, her -daughters most especially, would be pleased by a mother’s -rich gifts, would perhaps from her receive the dower that -would make them welcome in the homes of the men they -might love. Isabel began to indulge in the maternal -hopes and visions of young motherhood, and to feel the -security that a still hopeful mind may acquire, after years -of secret and harassing cares have passed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The usual visits of ceremony had passed between the -contracting families; the Señor Fernandez had declared -himself satisfied with the generous provisions which had -been made for the young couple; the house was set in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>order, and an early day named for the wedding. Some -days of purest happiness followed the tearful anxiety with -which Dolores had awaited the negotiations that were to -shape her destiny. An earnest of the future came to her -in the present of jewels, with which Leon presaged the -marriage gifts which he went to the city of Mexico to -choose,—for whether rich or poor, no Mexican bridegroom -would fail of a necklet of pearls, or a brooch and earrings -of brilliants for his bride; and with his luxurious tastes, -it was not to be supposed that Leon Vallé could fail to add -to these laces and silks and velvets, fit rather for a -princess than for the future wife of a country youth whose -only capital was in house and land. Isabel had just heard -of these things, and had begun to excuse in her heart -these extravagances, which seemed so natural to a youth -in love, when a remembrance flashed upon her mind which -justified the apprehensions she had felt, and which it -seemed incredible should have escaped not only her own -but also Don Gregorio’s vigilance,—Leon had gone to -Mexico in the days of the feast of San Augustin.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Isabel was too jealous of her brother’s good name, too -eager to shield him from a breath of distrust, to mention -the fears that assailed her. She called herself irrational, -faithless, unjust, yet she could not rid herself of the dread -which seemed to brood above her like a cloud. And so -passed the month of June, and July brought Leon Vallé -back again, and one glance at his haggard face and -bloodshot eyes revealed to Isabel that her fears were -realized. He told the tale in a few words and with a hollow -laugh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You will have to go to Garcia for me now, Isabel,” he -said. “Your last venture has brought me the old luck, -cursed bad luck. A plague upon your money! I thought -to double or treble it, and the last cent is gone!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And the hacienda of San Lazaro?” queried Isabel, -faintly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Would you believe it? Gone too! Aranda has had -the devil’s own luck. ’T was the last of the feast, Isabel. -Thousands were changing hands at every table. It seemed -a cowardice not to try a stake for a fortune that might be -had for the asking. I was a fool, and hesitated till it was -too late. Had I only ventured at once! What think -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>you happened to Leoncio Alvarez? He played his hacienda -against Esparto’s, and lost. He had dared me not five -minutes before to the venture. The devil, what a chance -I missed! His hacienda was three times the size of San -Lazaro! He bore its loss like a man. ‘What can one do, -friend?’ he cried to Esparto; ‘it has been thy luck to-day, -’t will be mine when we next meet.’ Just then his brother -Antonio came up. ‘What luck, Leoncio?’ he said. -‘Cursed!’ he answered. ‘I have played my hacienda -against Esparto’s here, and lost it.’ Antonio shrugged -his shoulders and turned away. ‘Play mine and get -it back,’ he suggested, and walked off to the next table. -The cards were dealt, and in three minutes Leoncio’s -hacienda was his own again, thrown like a ball from one -hand to the other. It was glorious play!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But this has nothing to do with thee,” ventured -Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No,” muttered Leon, moodily; “when <em>I</em> ventured my -hacienda and lost, there was no Antonio to bid me play -his and get it back.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He looked at Isabel with an air of reproach. She had -neither look nor word of reproach for him, yet she felt -that a mortal blow had been dealt her. And Leon? He -had laughed, though she knew that the laugh was that of -the mocking fiend Despair which possessed him; and he -had bade her go on his behalf to Garcia. She left him in -desperation. She knew how utterly fruitless such an -appeal would be.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was fruitless. Don Gregorio asked with some scorn -in his voice whether Leon thought him as weak as she had -been, or as much of a madman as himself when he had -dared the chances of the tables at San Augustin. For him, -Garcia, to furnish money to the oft-tried scapegrace would -be a folly that would merit the inevitable loss it would bring. -All of which, though true enough, Don Gregorio repeated -with unnecessary vehemence to Leon himself, with the -tone of irrepressible satisfaction with which he at last -saw humiliated the man who had for so long held such a -resistless fascination over his wife.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With wonderful self-restraint Leon replied not a word -to the cutting irony with which his brother-in-law referred -to the mad ambition and folly which had led to his losses, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>and with which Gregorio excused himself from further -assisting in the ruin of the Garcia family,—reminding -the gamester that though he had thrown away the key to -fortune which he had taken from his sister’s hand, he had -still youth, a sword, and a subtle mind, any one of which -should be able to provide him a living.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That is true,” replied Leon, with a dangerous light in -his half-closed eyes. “Thanks for the reminder, my -brother. What is the old saying? ‘A hungry man discovers -more than a thousand wise men.’”</p> - -<p class='c001'>They both laughed. It was not likely that Leon’s poverty -would ever reach the point of actual want. There -at the hacienda was his home when he cared for it; but -as for money,—why as Don Gregorio had said, the key -to fortune was thrown away, and it seemed unlikely the -unfortunate loser would ever recover it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Almost on the same day on which Leon Vallé had told -his sister of his fatal hardihood at the feast of San -Augustin, there arrived, with assurances of the profound -respect of Señor Fernandez and his daughter, the jewels -and other rich gifts which Dolores had accepted as the -betrothed of Leon. With deep indignation that his -explanations and protestations had been rejected, but -with a pride which prevented the frantic remonstrances -which rushed to his lips from passing beyond them, Leon -received these proofs of his dismissal, which in a few days -was rendered final by the news that the beautiful Dolores -had married a wealthier and perhaps even more ardent -suitor, whom the insolence and mockery of Fate had provided -in the person of the lucky winner of San Lazaro. -Even Don Gregorio felt his heart burn with the natural -chagrin of family pride, and Isabel would have turned -with some sympathy toward the brother of whom, unconsciously -to herself, she could no longer make a hero. -Strangely enough, his aspect as a suppliant for her husband’s -bounty had disrobed him of the glamour through -which she had always beheld him. When she herself was -powerless to minister to him, he was no longer a prince -claiming tribute, but the undignified dependent whom she -blushed to see lounging in sullen idleness in her husband’s -house. Yet as has been said, when word of the marriage -of Dolores Fernandez reached them, they would have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>given him sympathy; but he had received the news first, -and collecting a half-dozen followers had mounted and -ridden madly away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The horses they rode were Don Gregorio’s yet Leon had -gone without a word of excuse or farewell. Isabel had -no opportunity to tell him that she had no more money to -give him; and in her distress at supposing him penniless -it was an immense relief to her to find that he had retained -in his possession the jewels that the father of Dolores -had returned to him. He would at least not be without -resource. But soon a strange tale reached her. The -jewels torn from their settings, the stones in fragments, -the whole crushed into an utterly worthless mass, so far as -human strength and ingenuity could accomplish it, had -been found upon the pillow of the bride. The husband -was jealously frantic that her sanctuary had been invaded; -the bride was hysterically alarmed, yet flattered at this -proof of her lover’s passion; and the entire community -were for days on the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">qui vive</span></i> for further developments in -this drama of love.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But none came, and soon Leon Vallé’s name was heard -of as one of the guerillas of the Texan war, where he -fought for—it was not to be said under—Santa Anna; -and ere many months his name rang from one end of the -republic to the other,—the synonym of gallant daring, -which in a less exciting time might have been called -ferocious bloodthirstiness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Isabel quailed as she heard the wild tales told of him; -but Don Gregorio shrugged his shoulders and said, -“Thank Heaven he turned soldier rather than brigand!” -The chief difference between the two in those days was in -name; but that meant much in sentiment.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Leon Vallé had not parted from his sister in declared -hostility, yet months passed before she heard directly -from him. But this was not to be wondered at, as letters -were necessarily sent by private carriers, and it was not -to be expected that in the adventurous excitement of his -life he should pause to send a mere salutation over leagues -of desolate country.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile the prevailing anarchy of the time crept -closer and closer to the hacienda limits. Bandits gathered -in the mountains and ravaged the outlying villages, driving -off flocks of sheep or herds of cattle, lassoing the finest -horses, and mocking the futile efforts of the country people -to guard their property. The name of one Juan Planillos -became a terror in every household; yet one by one the -younger men stole away to strengthen the number of his -followers and share the wild excitement of the bandit life, -rather than to wait patiently at home to be drafted into the -ranks of some political chieftain whose career raised little -enthusiasm, and whose political creed was as obscure as -his origin. “The memory is confused,” says an historian, -“by the plans and <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamientos</span></i> of that time. Men -changed ideas at each step, and defended to-day what -they had attacked yesterday. Parties triumphed and fell -at every turn.” The form of government was as changeable -as a kaleidoscope, and only the brigand and guerilla -seemed immutable. Whatever the politics of the day, -their motto was plunder and rapine; and their deeds, so -brilliant, so unforeseeable, offered an irresistible attraction -to the restless spirits of that revolutionary epoch.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Though Doña Isabel Garcia, like all others, was imbued -with the military ardor of the time, the brilliant reputation -that her brother was winning in distant fields, though in -harmony with her own political opinions, horrified rather -than dazzled her. She shuddered as she heard his name -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>mentioned in the same breath with that of the remorseless -Valdez, or the crafty and bloody Planillos; yet she was -glad to believe his incentive was patriotism rather than -plunder, and when at last a messenger from him reached -her with the same old cry for “Money! money! money!” -she responded with a heaping handful of gold,—all she -had been able to accumulate in the few months of his absence. -Don Gregorio however, vexed by recent losses -and harassed by constant raids from the mountain brigands, -sent a refusal that was worded almost like a curse; -and ashamed of her brother, annoyed by and yet sympathizing -with her husband, Doña Isabel felt her heart sink like -lead in her bosom, and for the first time her superb health -showed signs of yielding to the severe mental strain to -which she had been so long subjected.</p> - -<p class='c001'>June had come again; the rainy season would soon begin, -and Don Gregorio, suddenly thinking that the change -would benefit his wife, suggested that they should pass -some months in the city. The roads were threatened by -highwaymen, yet Isabel was glad to go, and even to incur -the novelty of danger. Her travelling carriage was luxurious, -and with her little girls immediately under her own -eye, with an occasional glimpse of the four-year-old Norberto -riding proudly at his father’s side in the midst of the -numerous escort of picked men, she felt an exhilaration both -of body and mind to which she had long been a stranger.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The travelling was necessarily slow, for the roads were -excessively rough, and the party had at sunset of the first -day scarcely left the limits of the hacienda and entered -the defile which led to the deeper cañons of the mountains, -wherein upon the morrow they anticipated the necessity of -exercising a double vigilance. Not a creature had been -seen for hours; the mountains with their straggling clumps -of cacti and blackened, stunted palms seemed absolutely -bereft of animal life, except when occasionally a lizard -glided swiftly over a rock, or a snake rustled through the -dry and crackling herbage. Caution seemed absurd in -such a place where there was scarce a cleft for concealment, -yet the party drew nearer together, and the men -looked to their arms as the cliffs became closer on either -side and so precipitous that it seemed as though a goat -could scarcely have scaled them.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>They had passed nearly the entire length of this cañon, -and the nervous tension that had held the whole party -silent and upon the alert was gradually yielding to the -glimpse of more open country which lay beyond, and on -which they had planned to camp for the night, when suddenly -the whole country seemed alive with men. They -blocked the way, backward and forward; they hung from -the cliffs; they bounded from rock to rock, on foot and on -horse, the horses as agile as the men. Amid the tumult -one man seemed ubiquitous. All eyes followed him, yet -not one caught sight of his face; the striped jorongo -thrown over shoulders and face formed an impenetrable -disguise, such as the noted guerilla chief of the mountains -was wont to wear. Suddenly there was a cry of “Planillos! -Planillos!” amid the confusion of angry voices, of -curses, and the clanking of sabres and echo of pistol-shots. -Don Gregorio found himself driven against the rocks, a -sword-point at his throat, a pistol pressed to his temple, -his own smoking weapon in his hand.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Immediately the shouts ceased, and before the smoke -which had filled the gorge had cleared, the travellers found -themselves alone, with two or three dead men obstructing -the road. Don Gregorio had barely time to notice them, -or the blank faces of his men staring bewildered at one -another, when a cry from Doña Isabel recalled him to his -senses, and he saw her rushing wildly from group to group. -In an instant he was at her side. “Norberto! where is -Norberto?” both demanded wildly, and some of the men -who had caught the name began to force their horses -up the almost inaccessible cliffs, and to gallop up or -down the cañon in a confused pursuit of the vanished -enemy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Gregorio alone retained his presence of mind; -though night was closing in and the horses were wearied -by a day’s travel, not a moment was lost in dispatching -couriers to the city for armed police and to the hacienda for -fresh men and horses, and the return to Tres Hermanos -was immediately begun. Sometime during the morning -hours they were met by a party from the hacienda, and putting -himself at the head of his retainers Don Gregorio led -them in search of his son, while Doña Isabel in a state bordering -upon distraction proceeded to her desolated home.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>Her first act was to send a courier to her brother. No -one knew the mountains as he did, and in her terrible -plight she was certain he would not fail her. But her -haste was needless, for information reached him from some -other source, and within a few days he was at the head of -a party of valiant Garcias, who had hastened from far -and near to the rescue of their young kinsman.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In all the country round the abduction of Norberto -Garcia was called “the abduction by enchanters,”—so -sudden had been the attack, so complete the disappearance -of the victim. Beyond the immediate scene no trace -remained of the act,—it seemed that the very earth must -have opened to swallow the perpetrators; and yet day by -day proofs of their existence were found in letters left -upon the very saddle crossed by the father, or upon the -pillow wet with the tears of the mother, demanding ransom -which each day became more exorbitant, accompanied by -threats more and more ingenious and horrible.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Such seizures, though rare, were by no means unprecedented, -and such threats had been proved to be only too -likely to be fulfilled. As days went by the agony of the parents -became unbearable, and Don Gregorio’s early resolution -to spend a fortune in the pursuit and punishment -of the robbers rather than comply with their demands, -and thus lend encouragement to similar outrages, began -to yield before the imminent danger to the life of his son; -and to Doña Isabel it seemed a cruel mockery that her -brother and the young Garcias should urge him to further -exertion and postponement of the inevitable moment when -he must accede to the imperious demands of the outlaws.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The family were one evening discussing again the -momentous and constantly agitated question, when Doña -Feliz appeared among them with starting eyes and pallid -cheeks, bidding Don Gregorio go to his wife, from whose -nerveless hand she had wrested a paper, which Leon -seized and opened as the excited woman held it toward -him. Don Gregorio turned back at his brother-in-law’s -exclamation, and beheld upon his outstretched hand a -lock of soft brown hair, evidently that of a child. It -had been severed from the head by a bloody knife. It -was a mute threat, yet they understood it but too well. -Every man there sprang to his feet with a groan or an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>oath. Such a threat they remembered had been sent to -the parents the very day before the infant Ranulfo Ortega -had been found dead not a hundred yards from his father’s -door. Did this mean also that the last demand -for ransom had been made, and the patience of Norberto’s -abductors was exhausted?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Gregorio clasped his hands over his eyes, and -reeled against the wall. Leon sprang to his feet, pale to -his lips, his eyes blazing. Julian Garcia picked up the -hair which had fallen from Leon’s hand; the others -stood grouped in horrified expectancy. Doña Feliz stood -for a moment looking at them with lofty courage and -determination upon her face.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What,” she cried, “is this a time for hesitation? The -money must be paid, the child’s life saved. Vengeance -can wait!” She spoke with a fire that thrilled them, and -though they spoke but of the ransom, it was the word -“vengeance” that rang in their ears, and steeled Don -Gregorio to the terrible task that awaited him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That night the quaint hiding-places of the vast hacienda -were ransacked, and many a hoard of coin was extracted -from the deep corners of the walls, and the depths of half-ruinous -wells. Doña Isabel saw treasures of whose existence -she had never heard before, but had perhaps vaguely -suspected; for through the long years of anarchy the -Garcias had become expert in secreting such surplus -wealth as they desired to keep within reach. Large as -was the sum brought to light, it barely sufficed to meet -the demands of the robbers; yet it was a question how -such a weight of coin was to be conveyed by one person -to the spot indicated for the payment of the ransom -and delivery of the child,—for it had been urgently -insisted upon that but one man should go into the very -stronghold of the bandits.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At daybreak, having refused the offer of Leon Vallé to -go in his stead, Don Gregorio mounted his horse and set -out on his mission. He knew well the place appointed, -for he had been in his youth an adventurous mountaineer, -and more than once had penetrated the deep gorge into -which, late in the afternoon, he descended, bearing with -him the gold and silver. As he entered the “Zahuan del -Infierno” he shuddered. Not ten days before he had passed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>through it, followed by a dozen trusty followers, in search -of his child, and had discovered no trace of him; now -he was alone, weighted with treasure, sufficient sensibly -to retard his movements and render him a rich prize for -the outlaws he had gone to meet. Once he fancied he -heard a step behind him; doubtless he was shadowed by -those who would take his life without a moment’s hesitation. -Yet he pressed on, obliged to leave his horse and proceed -on foot, for at times the cliffs were so close together that -a man could barely force his way between them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Just as the last rays of daylight pierced the gloomy -abyss, at a sudden turn in the narrowest part of the gorge -Don Gregorio saw standing two armed men, placed in such -a position that the head of one overtopped that of the -other, while the features of both were shadowed though -made the more forbidding by heavy black beards, which it -occurred to him later were probably false and worn for -the purpose of disguise. At the feet of the foremost was -placed a child; and though he restrained the cry that rose -to his lips, the tortured father recognized in him his -son,—but so emaciated, so deathly pale, with such -wild, startled eyes, gazing like a hunted creature before -him, yet seeing nothing, that he could scarcely credit -it was the same beautiful, sensitive, highly-strung Norberto -who had been wrested from him but a short month -before.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At the sight the father felt an almost irresistible impulse -to precipitate himself upon those fiends who thus dared to -mock him; but even had his hands been free to grasp the -pistol in his belt, to have done so would have been to -bring upon himself certain death. As it was he could but -look with blind rage from the bags of coin he carried to -the brigands who stood like statues, the right hand of the -foremost laid upon the throat of the trembling boy. Even -in that desperate moment Don Gregorio noticed that the -hand was whiter and more slender than the hands of common -men are wont to be; the nails were well formed and -well kept, though there was a bruise or mark on the second -one, as though it had met some recent injury. He was not -conscious at the time that he noticed this, but it came to -him afterward. The foremost man did not speak; it was -the other who in a soft voice, as evenly modulated as though -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>to words of purest courtesy, bade the Señor Garcia welcome, -and thanked him for his prompt appearance.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let us dispense with compliments,” said Don Gregorio, -huskily. “Here is the money you have demanded -for my child. I know something of the honor of bandits, -and as you can gain nothing by falsifying your word, I -have chosen to trust in it. Here am I, alone with the -gold,” and he poured it out on the rock at the child’s -feet,—“count it if you will;” and he put out his hand -and laid it upon the child’s shoulder. As he did so his -hand touched the brigand’s, and both started, glaring like -two tigers before they spring; but at that moment Norberto -bounded over the scattered heap of coin and into -his father’s arms.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As he felt that slight form within his grasp the father -reeled, and his sight failed him; a voice presently recalled -him to his senses, and glancing up he saw the two men -still standing motionless, with their pistols levelled upon -him and the child.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The Señor will find it best to withdraw backward,” -said the bandit; “there is not space here for me to have -the honor of passing and leading the way, and it is even -too narrow for your grace to turn. You will find your -horse at the entrance to the gorge; it has been well cared -for. Adios, Señor, and may every felicity attend this -fortunate termination of our negotiations.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I doubt not there will,” cried Don Gregorio, though -in a voice of perfect politeness, “for I swear to you I will -unearth the villains who have tortured and robbed me, -and give myself a moment of exquisite joy with every -drop of life-blood I slowly wring from them. You have -my gold, and I have my child, and now—Vengeance!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gregorio Garcia knew so well the peculiar ideas of honor -among bandits as well as the spirit of his countrymen that -perhaps he was assured that no immediate risk would follow -this proclamation. The word “vengeance” rang -from cliff to cliff, yet the bandits only smiled mockingly -and bowed, waving a hand in token of farewell, as with -what haste he might he withdrew. A turn in the gorge -soon hid them from his sight, and staggering through the -darkness, he hastened on with his precious burden, feeling -that Norberto had fainted in his aims.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>It was near midnight when Don Gregorio reached the -hacienda, and needless is it to attempt to describe the joy -of the mother at sight of her child, though Norberto, after -one faint cry of recognition, laid his head upon her breast -with a long shuddering sigh, which warned her that his -strength and courage had been so overtaxed that they -were, perhaps, destroyed forever.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As days passed, it seemed evident that the mind of the -boy was suffering from the shock. The male relatives who -during the absence of Don Gregorio had mostly dispersed -to find, manlike, some distraction a-field, returned one by -one to embrace him; but he turned from each with unreasoning -fear and aversion, unable to distinguish between -them and the strangers in whose hands he had been -held a prisoner. At some of them he gazed as if fascinated, -especially at his Uncle Leon; and when by any -chance the latter touched him he would burst into agonizing -wails, which ceased only when his father held -him closely in his arms, whispering words of affection -and encouragement.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Before many days it became evident that Norberto was -dying. There was a constant, low, shuddering cry upon -his lips, “He will kill me!—he will kill me if I tell!” -and the horrified father and mother became convinced that -Norberto knew at least one of his captors, and that deadly -fear alone prevented him from uttering the name. They entreated -him in vain; and one night the end of the tortured -life drew near, and Norberto’s wailing cry was still.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The family was alone, except for the presence of Leon -Vallé and a young cousin, Doctor Genaro Calderon, one -of the numerous family connections; and those, with the -Padre Francisco and Doña Feliz, were gathered around -the bed of the dying child. The father in an agony of -grief and vengeful despair stood at the head, and Doña -Isabel, ghostlike and haggard from her long suspense and -watching, was on her knees at the side, her eyes fixed -upon the face of the child, when suddenly he opened his -eyes in a wild stare upon Leon Vallé, who stood near the -foot of the bed, and faintly, slowly articulated the same -agonizing cry, “He will kill me if I tell!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>At that moment, as if by an irresistible impulse, Leon -stretched out his hand and placed a finger on the lips of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>the dying boy. The eyes of Don Gregorio followed it; -and then like a thunderbolt hurled through space he threw -himself upon his brother-in-law, grappling his throat with -a deathlike grasp. He had recognized the bruise upon -the second finger of the white hand,—he had recognized -the very hand. Recalled to life by the excitement of the -moment, Norberto started up and exclaimed in a loud -shrill voice, “Take him away! He cut my hair with his -bloody knife! Oh, Uncle Leon, will you kill me?” and -fell back in the death agony,—the agony that only the -priest witnessed, for even Isabel turned to the mortal -combat waged between her husband and her brother.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Gregorio was unarmed, but Leon had managed to -draw a knife from his belt. The murderous dagger was -poised for a blow, when a woman rushed between the -combatants; Don Gregorio was flung bleeding upon the -bed, Doña Feliz hurled into a corner of the apartment the -dagger which she had grasped with her naked hand, and -Leon Vallé rushed like a madman from the room. Before -he could escape, however, he was seized, pinioned, and -thrust like a wild beast into one of the solid stone rooms -of the building. Don Gregorio was held by main force -from accomplishing his purpose of taking the life of the -unnatural bandit ere the bolts were shot upon him. He -however gave immediate orders that messengers be despatched -in quest of police; but by some misapprehension -or intentional delay on the part of the administrador these -messengers were detained till dawn, and just as they were -about to set forth, a cry went through the house that the -prisoner had escaped.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gregorio Garcia rushed to the room, glanced in with -wild, bloodshot eyes, and then with unrestrainable fury, -sought out his wife, and grasping her arm cried in a voice -as full of horror as of rage, “Traitress! You have set -free the murderer of your child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She threw herself on her knees at his feet,—he never -knew with what purpose, whether to confess her weakness -or declare her innocence,—for Doña Feliz cast herself -between them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It was I who set him free!” she exclaimed. “I love -the Garcias too well to suffer them to be made a mockery -of by the false mercy of such laws as ours. Think you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>the idol of the bandits would be sacrificed for such a trifle -as a child’s life? And you, Gregorio Garcia, would you, -this fury passed, avenge your injuries in the blood of your -wife’s brother, robber and murderer though he be? Leon -has sworn to me to hide himself forever from the family he -has disgraced, under another name in another land. He -has the brand of Cain upon his brow,—God will surely -bring his doom upon him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz spoke like a prophetess. The superb assurance -upon which she had acted, setting aside all rights of -man and relegating vengeance to the Lord, did more to -reconcile Don Gregorio to the escape of his enemy than -all further reflection, decisive though it was in convincing -him that in the disordered and anarchical state of the -country, the laws would have shielded rather than punished -an offender so popular as was Leon Vallé. There -was perhaps, too, a comfort in the hidden hope of personal -vengeance with which he waited long months to -learn the retreat of the man who had done him such -foul wrong.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile the exact facts of the case were never known -abroad; and when at last it was rumored that Leon Vallé -had been shot by a rival guerilla chief and hung to a tree -placarded as a traitor and robber, there were few to doubt -the story, or to make more than a passing comment on -the hard necessities of war. There seemed so much poetic -justice in it, that Gregorio Garcia, who was near the end -of the disease contracted through exposure and mental -agony, did not for a moment doubt it, and died almost -content. Indeed, the circumstances were so minutely detailed -by a servant who had followed Leon in his adventurous -career and who dared to face the family in order to -prove the death, that even Doña Isabel herself did not -question it until long months afterward, when a petty -scandal stole through the land. The lady of San Lazaro -had disappeared,—whether of her own free will, whether -in madness she had strayed, or whether she had been -kidnapped, none could conjecture. No demand for ransom -came, no tidings were ever heard of the peerlessly -beautiful Dolores.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was after that time that Doña Isabel began to demand -tidings of all who came to her door, and a suspicion entered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>her mind which became a certainty upon the night -our story opened, but which no subsequent event had -tended to confirm during the years that had passed since -then.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This brief relation may serve to explain the strange -emotions and experiences that made Doña Isabel what -her full womanhood found her, and which with other -events of her later life rendered possible and natural -the bitter suspense and fear that held her the long night -through, a watcher at the door of one who, as others had -done, might find a means to pierce her heart and wound -her pride, if not to awaken her deep and passionate -affections.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Chinita woke with a confused sensation of haste, and -in the dim light discovered with a momentary surprise that -she was in one of the chambers of the great house. Her -first clear remembrance was that there was to be a wedding -in the village that day, and that she must hasten to help -array the bride, her old playmate Juana,—a girl scarce -older than herself, but who as the daughter of the silver-smith -held some pretentions to superior gentility among -the village folk. She wondered that she was not in the -hut with Florencia and the children, and raised herself upon -one arm to peer through the gloom at the figure upon the -bed; then suddenly sprang to her feet with an exclamation. -The sight of the wounded man brought to memory -the train of events connected with his appearance there. -The young man was asleep, but even if he had been awake -and in dire need of aid, Chinita would not have paused an -instant; for it flashed into her mind that she must see and -speak to Tio Reyes before he left. He had told her so little—nothing -that she could separate as a tangible fact. She -must know more. Surely it was early still,—she never -slept after daybreak; he would not yet be gone. Yet -in quick apprehension, which burst forth in an irate interjection -at her tardy awakening, she ran out into the -court.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The morning light was beaming there unmistakably, -though no ray of sunlight penetrated it; and not a creature -was stirring, and still hopeful the young girl hurried to the -outer court. The mingled sounds of the movements of -men and horses greeted her ear. Although she was late, -Tio Reyes perhaps was still there. Vain hope! One glance -around the great court showed her that he whom she -sought was gone.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With an angry little cry, which made more than one -muleteer turn to look at her with, “What has happened to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>thee?” on his lips, Chinita sped across the court, and caught -the arm of Pedro, who was standing dejectedly outside the -great gate. He crossed himself as she appeared, and his -face lighted up, then clouded again as she cried, “Where -are the soldiers? When did they go? Why did no one -awaken me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The man pointed with a disdainful gesture across the -plain. Florencia was standing at the door of her hut, -calling in a rage to a neighbor that those worthless vagabonds -had robbed her of her last handful of toasted corn; -and Pedro began to explain to Chinita in his slow way that -the good friends of the night before had naturally enough -demanded something from the housewives upon which to -breakfast, and that instead of giving it to them quietly, -and thanking the Virgin that after drinking the soup they -had not taken the pot, the foolish women must needs scold -and bewail, as though soldiers should be saints and live on -air, and as if this was the first raid that ever had been heard -of, instead of a mere frolic, very different from that of the -month before, when the forces of the clergy had carried off -a thousand bushels of maize, without as much as a “God -repay you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita gazed eagerly toward the east, and presently -burst into passionate tears. The sun, which a moment -before had shown a tiny red disk above the hills, flooded -the plain with light, and dazzled her vision. Through it -she saw some rapidly moving figures. The man she -sought was already miles away. Silently but bitterly she -reproached herself. She had slept like an insensate lump, -and suffered to escape her the man who could have told -her so much, whom she would have forced to speak. -She could, as her eyes became accustomed to the light, -distinguish his very figure in the clear atmosphere; and -yet he and all she would have learned were so far away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What wouldst thou?” demanded Pedro, gruffly; “the -soldiers have carried off nothing of thine! Heaven forefend! -Go to the hut and drink the atolé if there is any left, -and give God the thanks!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The broad daylight had cleared the mind of Pedro of -all the sentimental fears of the night. The glamour had -passed away; there stood Chinita with the old familiar -ragged clothing upon her, to be talked with, caressed it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>might be, certainly scolded with the mock severity of old. -Yes, it was the same fiery, uncertain, irascible Chinita, -who, clearing her eyes of their unusual tears with a backward -sweep of her small brown hand, ran down the hill,—not -to the hut where Florencia stood with the water-jar, -beckoning her, but in quite another direction, to join the -little crowd of sympathizing friends who were gathered -at the door of the silversmith.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé was standing there with a gayly caparisoned donkey, -destined to bear the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">novia</span></i> to the village some eight -miles distant, where the lazy priest who divided his time -between the sinners of that point and Tres Hermanos, had -consented to earn a royal fee by uniting two poor peasants -in holy matrimony. “It is but for once,” Gabriel had -hopefully remarked; “and though one runs in debt for the -wedding, one can hold one’s head above one’s neighbors, -to say nothing of dying in peace, if a bull’s horn finds its -way some unlucky day between one’s ribs.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gabriel was a man who honored the proprieties, and -Juana was well pleased with the good fortune that had -awarded her to him; though he was twice her age, and had -a squint which made ludicrous his most amorous glances.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What has happened?” cried Pepé in a disappointed -tone, as Chinita darted past him. “Didst thou not say -thou wouldst ride with Juana? She has been waiting for -thee this half hour. The <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">novio</span></i> will be on his way before -her if we tarry longer, and thou knowest what that portends. -The impatient lover becomes the husband never -appeased! the wife shall wait many a day for him.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Bah!” returned Chinita, “if Juana were of my mind -the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">novio</span></i> would wait so long that her turn to play at -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">paciencia</span></i> would never arrive.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Go to!” cried a woman who stood near, “who would -have imagined thou wouldst be so envious, Chinita; and -thou but a child yet? But thou art one that hast been -brought up between cotton, and expectest the soft places -all thy life.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Pshaw!” answered Chinita. “Speak of what thou -knowest, Señora Gomesinda; and thou, Pepé, cease making -eyes at me. Thinkest thou I have nothing better to do -than to ride after Juana to see her married to yon black -giant of a vaquero, who will manage his wife as he does -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>his horses,—with a thong? I tell thee as I tell her, he -is not worth the beating she got when he asked for her!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay, Señora,” cried Gomesinda, shrilly, “was ever -such talk from the mouth of a modest girl? What could -a reasonable father and mother do for a girl when a man -asks her in marriage? It is plain she must have played -some tricks of our Señora Madre Eva to have beguiled -him. Ay, but I remember my mother flailed me black and -blue when José asked for me. I warrant you I screamed -so hard the whole neighborhood knew she was doing the -honorable part by me. Thank Heaven, I knew what was -proper as well as another, and if I had given the man a -glance from the corner of my eyes, I was willing my -shoulders should suffer for it. One may tell of it when -one is the mother of ten children.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>During this harangue, Chinita had slipped by her, and -darted into the hut. She threw her arms around the expectant -bride, who dressed in the stiffest of starched skirts, -the upper one of which was of flowered pink muslin, stood -waiting the finishing touches of her sponsor.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What, thou art not ready?” cried Juana in a dejected -tone, surveying Chinita with disapproving eyes. “Gabriel -has twice sent messages that the sun has risen, and that -the Señor Priest likes not to be kept long fasting, and -thou knowest, as the priest sings the sacristan answers.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay,” said Chinita, laughing, “a lesson in patience -will be good for both the priest and thy Gabriel; but it -will bode thee ill if he learns it at the tavern, as I saw -him doing just now. Truly, Juana, thou must go without -me. I am in no humor to go so far on thy ambling -donkey;” and she drew herself up with an air of -hauteur, which did not escape the observant eye of the -bride, who said, with a reproachful look,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What have I done? Did I ever give thee a sharp -word, Chinita?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>For answer, Chinita threw her arms around the girl’s -neck; for she was really fond of Juana, who had ever -been a gentle girl, and had borne her perverse humors -with a sort of admiring patience which had flattered and -won the heart of the wayward one. Completely mollified, -Juana pressed her cheek against Chinita’s shoulder, for -she had turned her face away, and said, “But thou wilt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>put on thy finest clothes and sit beside me at the fandango, -wilt thou not? And thou wilt help my sponsor -to dress me. See! Dost thou think she has done well -this time?” and the girl threw her scarf from her head -and shoulders, and exhibited her long, well-oiled tresses -with an air of conscious vanity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Nothing could be better,” declared Chinita, heartily, -pulling out a loop of the bright red ribbons. “Yes, -yes,” she added with some effort, “I will stay beside thee -all through the feast. Thou hast ever been a good friend -of mine, Juana. There, there, they are calling thee;” -and she pushed her toward the door, where by this time -a noisy crowd had gathered.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Instead of only one donkey, there were five or six -standing there, with gay bridles and necklaces of horsehair, -brightened with cords of red or blue, and with panniers -covered with well-trimmed sheepskins. As the Señora -Madrina said, “She who should ride upon them would -think herself on cushions of down.” On the most luxurious -of these rural thrones Juana was raised, and upon -the others her mother and a number of her female friends, -mostly in pairs, were accommodated; and with many injunctions -from the bystanders to hasten, the bridal party -were at last dismissed upon their way.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Laughing and chattering, the women dispersed to their -huts to grind a fresh stint of maize to replace the tortillas -and atolé that had been carried away by the soldiers; but -Chinita sat down at the door of the adobe hut thus temporarily -deserted, and with a smile of derision upon her -lips watched the group of men congregated around the -village shop. The bridegroom, a middle-aged man, with -a dark face deeply imbrowned by the sun and seamed -with scars (for he had been a soldier before he was a -vaquero), stood in the midst of them, dressed in a suit of -buff leather, gay with embroidery. The embossed leather -sheath of his knife showed in his scarlet waist-scarf, and -immense spurs clanked on his heels in response to the -buttons and chains on the half-opened sides of his riding -trousers of goat-skin. He was a picturesque figure—though -Chinita’s accustomed eyes failed to recognize that—as -he stood with his wide, silver-laced hat pushed back -upon the mat of black hair that crowned his swarthy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>countenance, holding high the small glass of mezcal -which he was about to drink in favor of the toast some -comrade had proposed. Meanwhile, his companions were -noisily hilarious, rallying him with impossible prophesies -of good fortune, to which he listened with an air of imperturbability -which was part of the etiquette of the occasion,—for -in all the world can be found no greater slave to -his peculiar code of manners than the Mexican ranchero.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The party on donkey-back had almost disappeared upon -the horizon before it seemed to occur to the group at the -tavern store that any movement was expected from them. -More than once the women had stopped in their household -tasks to call out a shrill “Go on! go on! By the -saints, man, will you keep the priest waiting?” and still -Gabriel affected the indifferent, until as if by accident he -strolled toward his horse, which stood champing the bit -impatiently. Immediately there was a rush of his best -friends, and the triumphant one who caught the stirrup -and held it as the bridegroom mounted claimed the luck-gift -for the good news of the departure,—which was -effected at once after a series of pirouettes and caracolling, -by Gabriel’s putting spurs to his steed and galloping madly -away, followed by his friends as quickly as they could -throw themselves into their saddles.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The spell of the day before continued still so to rest upon -her that Chinita neither joined in the cheer nor the laughter -of the women, but turned slowly toward Pedro’s hut. -The cravings of a healthy appetite subdued for the moment -the pride that scorned the lowly home. It was -natural to go there for the corn-cake and the draught of -atolé or chocolate with which to break her fast. She -found the share left for her; but after a mouthful or two -it seemed to grow bitter to her taste. She divided it petulantly -among the children who clamored around her, and -in response to a call from Florencia went to Selsa’s hut -where they were making tortillas for the wedding feast, -arrogantly refusing to help, yet glad of accustomed companionship. -Much as she resented old associations, the -wrench was too great for her to separate herself from them -at once, especially as she had no conception of what could -or should take their place. She was like a child upon the -banks of a river that separates it from the farther shore -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>which it longs to reach, though dreading to push forth -from the land it knows, rough and forlorn though it may -be. There was with Chinita a strange sense of clinging -to a past which was irrevocably severed from her, of impatience -of a problem of the future to be solved, and of lack -of will to set herself to its solution, as she went from hut to -hut. The fever of her mind expended itself first in seething -irony and jests, and later in a wild repentance, which -manifested itself in quick embraces of the half offended -women, and in practical toil, which effectually promoted -the preparations for the feast, and went far to restore her -to the good graces of the harassed workers. Indeed, -often enough they paused in their labors to listen and -laugh, as she stood at the brasiers fanning the glowing -charcoal, or watching the tortillas taken from the flat -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">comal</span></i> and piled in heaps upon the fringed and embroidered -napkins used on such occasions of ceremony; or -went from dish to dish of black beans, or red and fiery -chile rich with pork or fowl; or gazed with positive admiration -upon the kids and lambs, stuffed with almonds -and raisins, forcemeat and olives, and other delicacies, -which drawn smoking from the earthen ovens attested -the generosity of the administrador toward his favorite -vaquero.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Toward noon the bride and her party returned, ambling -home upon their donkeys, as humbly as they had -gone. Juana was conducted to her future home, and her -mother-in-law, welcoming her with distant ceremony, intended -to inspire respect, suffered her to touch her cheek -with her lips, then led her to the inner room, where lay -the apparel for her adornment,—a number of toilets being -indispensable upon the occasion, and indicative of the pretensions -of the bridegroom who had hired them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita, in her mingled mood of disdain and levity, had -neglected to keep her promise of putting on holiday attire, -and stood in some awe and much admiration before the -bride as she at last appeared in the little bower or tent -that had been raised for her at one side of the hut, facing -upon the plaza where the feast was to be held. The little -woman—for she was not fully grown—was resplendent -in a stiff-flowered brocade of many colors, trimmed with -real Spanish lace and bedecked with flowers, and wore a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>necklace and bracelets of imitation gems set in filagree, fit, -as her sponsor proudly declared, for the Blessed Virgin -upon the high altar.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Juana threw a glance of reproach upon Chinita; but -her new dignity forbade recrimination. A shout presently -announced that the bridegroom was in sight. The bride, -well-drilled in her part, kept her glance fixed on the -ground; and as he swept by her bower Gabriel deigned -not a look, but reined in his horse at his own door with a -sudden turn of the hand which almost threw the animal -on its haunches, and before his stirrup could be seized had -thrown himself from his saddle and was shaking hands -with his friends, and immediately the feast began.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was no table set. The fires burned at the corners -of the plaza, and the women stood over them, dispensing -the fragrant contents of the jars to all comers. Yet in -this apparent informality the strictest decorum was observed, -and not a mouthful was swallowed or a drink of -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pulque</span></i> or milky <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">chia</span></i>, without a friendly interchange of -courtesies, which rather increased than grew less as the -hours flew by.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The proverb is true that at a wedding the bride eats -least; and at that of the Mexican peasant the saying becomes -a law. Juana was too well drilled in the proprieties -to touch a morsel of the delicacies offered her, but wore -constantly the air of timid resignation with which she had -met the assumed indifference of her spouse, who resolutely -avoided casting even a glance in the direction where she -held her court,—the women crowding with ever increasing -admiration to view her after each change of toilet, as they -might have done to examine a gorgeous picture, commenting -loudly upon the taste of the dresser and the liberality -of the groom. But nothing could be more satisfactory to -her than this feigned indifference of her husband. “Is not -Gabriel an angel?” she took occasion to ask Chinita, as for -the tenth time she was changing her apparel. “Imagine to -yourself twelve changes of clothing, and he acts as if the -hiring of them were nothing! What a difference between -him and Pancho Orteago, who was married at Easter! -Four beggarly suits were all he provided for Anita, and not -one silk among them; and he actually was quite close to her -again and again, with mouth open, as if he would eat her! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>Such an idiot! He would have spoken to her if he had -had the chance. I should think she was half dead with -mortification! Such foolishness in public! Her mother -cried with vexation; and no wonder, with such a slur cast -on the family!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yet it has been like a marriage of turtle-doves!” cried -Chinita. “Let us see, little woman, if thou wilt say that -of thy own six months hence!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Juana shrugged her shoulders and returned to her seat, -with her eyes more coyly cast down, and a dejected mien, -which might not have been altogether assumed; for, too -earnest in acting her part even to take food in private, she -was not unnaturally almost spent with the long and ceremonious -state which for perhaps the only time in her life -she was called upon to maintain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>By this time, torches of fat pine were blazing at every -door-post, and the strumming of harps and guitars and -many primitive instruments became incessant. Groups of -men, drowsy or hilarious, as the mezcal and pulque they -had drunk chanced to affect them, were stretched on the -ground, lazily watching and criticising the slow and untiring -movements of the fandango; now and then one would -spring up, to place himself before some dusky partner, -who would raise the song in her shrill monotone, swaying -and bending her body in unison with the gliding steps, -which seemed as untiring as they were fascinating.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Occasionally the shrill song of the women was enlivened -by the snapping of the fingers and thumbs of the men; -and more than once, though it had been forbidden, the -sharp crack of a pistol-shot indicated the irrepressible excitement -of some enthusiastic dancer. As the night wore -on, the click of the castanets became more frequent, and -the weird and tender refrain of <cite><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">La paloma</span></cite> gave place to -a bacchanalian chorus. Yet this chorus ever bore an -undertone of pathos and sentiment which seemed to -render impossible the absolute frenzy and rudeness of -mirth that would be apt to characterize such scenes in -other lands,—though the element of danger that lurked -within began to show itself in scornful glances, and the -contemptuous turning of shoulder or head.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The night was chilly and dark, for it was the rainy season, -and there was no moon; but the light from scores of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>torches and from the tripod of burning pitch set in the -middle of the plaza illuminated the entire village. The -great house was set so high that the lurid glare reached -no farther than its gates; yet while its massive façade -was in comparative darkness, from its windows the scene -of revelry was glowingly distinct, and irresistibly attracted -even the indifferent gaze of Doña Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Late in the evening she stepped into her balcony; Doña -Feliz joined her, and they wrapped themselves in their -black rebosos, and silently regarded the scene. The -dances and sports of the peasantry had been familiar to -them from their childhood. A pleasurable excitement -thrilled the veins of each as they gazed. This gayety was -as far beneath them as the follies of our life may be beneath -the pleasures of angels, yet pleased the exalted -sense of kindly interest in the affairs of plebeian humanity. -They began to murmur to each other something of this -feeling, when suddenly both became silent. A single -figure had caught the glances of both. It was that of Chinita, -who, scornful and cool while the slow <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">afforados</span></i> and -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">jarabes</span></i> were in progress, had yielded to the seductive -strains of the waltz, and was drawn from her station at -Juana’s side by a <a id='corr181.23'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='rual'>rural</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_181.23'><ins class='correction' title='rual'>rural</ins></a></span> beau from a neighboring village. -The two whirled in the mazy dance, presently beginning a -series of improvised changes, possible only to the subtle -grace of youth under the spell of excitement wrought to -its height by music, wine, and amorous flattery. One by -one the other couples ceased dancing, the fingers of the -musicians flew over their instruments, and the swift feet of -Chinita and her partner kept time. Sometimes they swept -together around the circle formed by the admiring onlookers; -anon Chinita, lifting her arms to the cadence of -the music, waved her swain away, and circled round him -like a bird poising for descent, then glided again to his -arms; or turning one bare shoulder from which the reboso -had fallen, looked back upon him with soft, languorous -eyes which challenged pursuit, while she fled with the -speed of the wind.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The circle were enraptured, and broke into loud <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">vivas</span></i>, -or joined in the words of the air to which the pair were -dancing. Pedro stood with the rest, watching with shining -eyes; but at his side was a young woman, whose dark -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>brows were drawn together in a spasm of rage. This was -Elvira, a young widow, to whom the stranger was plighted, -and who in the utter abandonment of her lover to the -dance with another younger and fairer than herself, -found a fair excuse for the mad jealousy that surged -through heart and brain, and convulsed her features. -But there was none to notice her; all eyes were bent upon -the dancers, when a sudden turn brought them both before -the infuriated woman. Seizing a knife from the belt of -the unconscious Pedro, she sprang toward Chinita, with -intent to wreak the usual vengeance of the jealous country-woman -by slashing her across the cheek or mouth, and -thus destroying her beauty forever. But quick as a flash -Pepé, the derided but faithful, threw himself between -them, receiving the blow in his arm; but shouting and -gesticulating with pain, he made ridiculous a scene which -might have been heroic.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This was no uncommon incident at such gatherings, and -roused more laughter than dismay. The dance suddenly -ceased. Chinita, panting with exertion, threw herself with -a cry for protection upon Pedro, who in rage had involuntarily -grasped for the missing knife that had so nearly accomplished -so foul a work; and Benito, recalled to his allegiance -by this undoubted proof of his Elvira’s devotion, -turned to her with words of mingled reproach and endearment. -Pepé, in spite of his outcry, was quite unnoticed in -the general excitement until his sister the bride, forgetting -her dignity, forced her way through the crowd and bound -her large lace handkerchief over the bleeding wound.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thou shalt come home!” said Pedro, resolutely, as -Chinita struggled in his grasp, with a half defined intention -of assailing the woman who had assaulted her, and who -was being led sobbing away by her repentant lover. -“What will the Señora think of thee?” he added in a -whisper. “She is on her balcony.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita glanced up. She could see nothing against the -great blank wall that loomed in the near distance, but a -sensation of acute shame overcame her. She suddenly -remembered that which in her brief delirium she had forgotten. -She turned from the throng as though they had -been serpents, and fled up the path to the gate, dashing -against it breathless. The postern was open. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>She felt for it with her hands and darted through, coming -full upon Doña Isabel. Feliz followed her lady, both -looking like spectres under the rough stone arch of the -vestibule, with its grim garniture of serpents and fierce-eyed -wild beasts.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Wretched girl!” cried Doña Isabel, as Chinita stopped -like a deer at bay. “Wretched girl!” grasping her with -a grip of steel, yet shaking as with ague. “Hast thou a -wound? Is the mark of shame on thy face already? My -God! Oh, child! Canst thou not speak?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will kill her!” gasped Chinita, too much excited herself -to be surprised by the agitation of Doña Isabel, or to -wonder at her presence. “To-morrow I will find her and -give her such a blow as she would have given me. What -will her Benito care for her then?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What is he to thee?” cried Doña Isabel, catching the -girl by the wrist, and looking into her eyes,—“he or any -such <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">canalla</span></i>? Come thou with me!—with me, I say!” -She threw a glance, half inquiring, half defiant, at Feliz, -who stood with her eyes cast down, her face strangely -white, yet inexpressive. “Come thou with me,” she reiterated, -scanning the girl from her unkempt shock of tawny -curls to her unshod feet. A blush passed over the usually -colorless and haughty face of the lady, as she added slowly, -“before it is too late.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl and the mistress of Tres Hermanos looked at -each other searchingly; then Doña Isabel turned and led -the way across the court. Chinita followed her with head -erect and sparkling eyes. Pedro entered at the instant, -but his foster daughter did not hear him; but Feliz, who -gave way that the strangely associated lady and girl might -pass, looked up, and her eyes met those of the gatekeeper. -Pedro approached with his Indian, cat-like silence of -movement, and found her standing as if in a dream. The -eyes of the man filled with tears. He was too lowly to -manifest resentment at the studied reserve he believed -Doña Feliz had for years preserved toward him, while still -she had made him her tool. He and such as he were made -for use. Yet inferior as he was, they had been workers in -a common cause, and their common purposes seemed now -frustrated at a word.</p> - -<p class='c001'>He bent humbly and touched the fringe of her reboso.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>“Have I done well, Doña Feliz?” he queried in a broken -voice. “Alas! I can do no more. You see how blood -flows to blood, as the brooks turn to the river.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Feliz started. “Strange! strange!” she muttered. -She turned upon Pedro a glance of mingled pity and -deprecation. She seemed about to say more, but paused. -“Thou art a good man, Pedro,” she presently whispered. -“Thou hast done a greater work than thou guessest. Be -content. Thou knowest the child’s nature,—Chinita will -not suffer with Doña Isabel; but she who thrust from her -bosom the dove will perchance warm the adder into life.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no!” cried the man, vehemently. “Cruel, bitter -woman! Chinita hath been my child, and though she -turn from me I will hear no evil of her. I will live or die -for her!” The unwonted outburst ended in a sob, and -before he could speak again, Doña Feliz had passed -across the court, but—strange condescension!—she had -seized his hand and pressed it to her lips, in irresistible -homage to a devotion as pure and unselfish as that of the -loftiest knight who ever drew sword in the cause of -helpless innocence.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro turned to his alcove dazed, stunned. To him it -was as if a star should leave its place in heaven to touch -the vilest clod upon the highway. A very miracle!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Although Doña Rita had left her home upon a sad -errand, and her tears flowed fast when on embracing her -mother she beheld upon her countenance the shadow of -death, that first startling impression vanquished, she -allowed herself to be deceived by the fitful brightness that -hovers over the consumptive; and as days passed on she -felt a pleased sense of freedom and relaxation, and her -return to her early home, which had been undertaken as -a pilgrimage, assumed much of the character of an -ordinary visit of pleasure.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita was a member of a large family, of whom -most had married; so that her parents, relieved from cares -that had long pressed upon them, were enabled to live in -the little town of El Toro with an ease and comfort from -which in their narrow circumstances they had necessarily -been debarred while the children were dependent. They -were, strictly speaking, people of the class known as <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">medio</span></i> -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pelo</span></i>, or “the half-clothed order,” as far below the aristocrat -as above the plebeian; and Rita Farias had been -thought to have risen greatly in life when she became the -wife of Rafael Sanchez, though he was then but a clerk, -the son of the administrador of Tres Hermanos, with no -prospect of succeeding soon to his honors. But as the -pious neighbors said when they heard of the early death -of the bridegroom’s father, “God blessed her with both -hands,” of which one held marriage, and the other death; -so Doña Rita was accustomed when she at rare intervals -visited her parents to be looked upon with ever increasing -respect. Such silken skirts and rebosos as she wore were -seldom seen within the quiet precincts of El Toro.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita herself was not quite clear upon the point as -to whether or not her native place could be considered to -rival “the City,” as Mexico was called <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">par excellence</span></i>, or -even Guadalajara, which she had heard was a labyrinth of -palaces; but Rosario who had seen El Toro declared to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>Chata that nothing could be finer, and Chata herself was -quite convinced of that when opening her eyes suddenly -upon the clear moonlight night on which the diligence -stopped before the door of the inn, she first looked out -upon the plaza.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The two girls shivered a little in their sudden awakening, -as, scarcely knowing how, they were lifted from the diligence -and stood upon their feet at the door of the inn, -with an injunction to watch the basket, the five parcels -tied in paper or towels, the drinking-gourd, the bottle of -claret, and the young parrot which their mother had brought -with her as a suitable gift to her declining relative. With -habitual obedience they did as they were bid, more than -once rescuing a parcel from the long, skinny claw of a -blear-eyed hag, who crouched in the shadow of the wall -whining for alms, while at the same time they cast their -admiring glances at the really beautiful church upon which -the white rays of the moonlight streamed, converting it for -the nonce into a symmetrical pile of virgin snow or spotless -alabaster. The priest’s house, a long low building with -numerous barred windows, stood on one side of it, while an -angle of the square was formed by a mass of buildings, the -frowning walls of which were apparently unpierced by door -or window. This was a convent. Later the children learned -to know well the gardens it enclosed, and also the taste of -the wonderful confections the sweet-faced sisters made. -The other buildings seemed poor and small in comparison -to those, with the exception of the inn which rose gloomily -behind them, a solitary rush-light burning palely in the -yawning vestibule, and the torches flaming in the courtyard, -where benighted travellers were loudly bargaining -for lodgings,—no hope of supper presenting itself at that -late hour.</p> - -<p class='c001'>While Rosario and Chata were noticing these things with -wide-open eyes but with ill suppressed yawns, Don Rafael -and Doña Rita were returning the salutations of the concourse -of friends who had come to meet them; and as -soon as the children had been embraced in succession by -each affectionate cousin or punctilious friend, they were -hurried across the plaza upon the side where the shadows -lay black as ink, and with a regretful glance at the seeming -palaces of marble that rose on either hand were conducted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>with much kindly help and cheerfulness over the -rough cobble-stones along a narrow street of single-storied -houses, above the walls of which, as if piercing the roofs, -rose at intervals tall slender trees, indicating the well-planted -courts within. Reaching the more scattered -portions of the town where the moonlight shone clear -over open fields and walled gardens and orchards, with -low adobe houses scattered among them, they at last -entered, somewhat to the disappointment of Chata, a -rather pretentious house which fronted directly upon the -street. She was consoled upon the following day to find -a garden at the back, where a triangle of pink roses of -Castile, larkspur, and red geraniums grew, almost choking -with their luxuriance the beds of onions and chiles, and -rivalling in glory of color the “manta de la Virgin” or -convolvulus, which entirely covered the half-ruinous stone-wall—the -gaps filled with tuñas and magueys—which -divided the cultivated land from the thickets of mesquite -and cactus that lay beyond.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the garden the children spent many hours while their -mother sat chatting at the side of the invalid, who rallied -wonderfully as she heard the endless tales of her daughter’s -prosperity; though like many another <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">nouveau riche</span></i>, Doña -Rita had her fancied self-denials to complain of. One of -the clerks at the hacienda had a wife whose father had -given her a string of pearls as large as cherries upon her -wedding day, while she the wife of the administrador was -left to blush over the shabby necklace—not a bead of -which was bigger than a pea—which Rafael had gone in -debt to give her on her wedding day, and which until the -advent of the fortunate Doña Gomesinda she had thought -most beautiful; and then too her dearest friend had a -daughter who would inherit a fine house of three rooms or -more in that very town, and money and jewels fit for a -<i>hacendado’s</i> daughter; and it was quite possible that she -would marry—who could tell? it might even be an attorney -or an official,—while with two to endow (and it was well -known that Rafael loved to enjoy as he went), Heaven only -knew to what her own flesh and blood were doomed! -There was Rosario for example,—and her own grandmother, -who would not be prejudiced, could judge if there -was a prettier or more daintily-bred girl in the whole -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>town,—what chance was there that an officer or an attorney, -or indeed any one but a clerk, a ranchero, or a poor -shop-keeper, should pretend to their alliance when they -could give so poor a dower with their daughter? Doña -Rita’s eyes filled with tears, and decidedly she was obliged -to compress her lips very tightly to prevent herself from -uttering further complaint; for since Rosario had with -true Mexican precocity burst into the full glory of young -womanhood, this had become a very real grievance to her -mother, but one of which, with the awe of the promoted -as well as trained daughter and wife, she had seldom -ventured to hint of either to Doña Feliz or Don Rafael.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As Rosario had outgrown her sister in physique, so had -she also in womanly dignity and apparent force of intellect -At least she thought of matters, and even to her admiring -mother and female relatives began to give weighty opinions -upon affairs which either wearied Chata or interested -her little. The grandfather, old Don José Maria, used to -sit under a fig-tree watching with disapproving eyes as -Chata darted hither and thither chasing a butterfly or -ruby-throated humming-bird, or with her lap full of flowers -or neglected sewing pored over some entrancing book -lent her by the village priest (he was a man whose ideas, -had he not been the Santo Padre, would have been the -last that should have been tolerated in the bringing up of -sedate and simple maidens); and those same eyes lighted -with pride as they fell on Rosario, beating eggs to a froth -to mix with honey and almonds for her grandfather’s -delectation, or bending over a brasier of ruddy charcoal -watching anxiously the cooking of the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">dulce</span></i>, of which -already more successes than failures showed her a born -artist. Then again sometimes, when Don José came in the -cool of the evening from the plaza where he had been to -buy his jar of pulque or his handful of garlic, he could see -his favorite sitting demurely in the upper balcony with -her head bent over her needle, listening it is true to that -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">maldito libro</span></i>, “that pernicious book,” which Chata was -reading, but as far as he could see doing no other harm, -unless the very fact of a young and pretty girl looking -into the street was a harm in itself,—but <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Maria Purissima!</span></i> -one must not be too rigorous with one’s own flesh -and blood: like others before him and more who will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>come after, Don José Maria forgot in tenderness to the -grandchildren the discipline he had thought absolutely -necessary with the preceding generation.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata, too, thought it delightful to sit on the balcony -and peer through the wooden railing at the long stretch of -sand which led far away where the houses dwindled into -a few half-ruinous hovels, where children and dogs throve -as well as the bristling cacti. On Sunday mornings very -early, as the mother and daughters came from Mass along -that road, they used to be covered with dust thrown up -by the scores of plodding donkeys who wended their way -to the plaza laden with charcoal and vegetables, eggs and -screaming fowls. Doña Rita and her daughters would -cover their faces with their rebosos, and trip daintily by, -scarcely appeased by the admiring salutations and apologies -of the drivers, who pulling off their rough straw hats -apostrophized the dust and the scorching sun and the -clumsy donkey, “by your license be the name spoken!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Sometimes more distinguished wayfarers passed over -the road and turned into the inn, or rode on to the -barracks which lay quite at the opposite extremity of the -little town; for it happened that a company of soldiers -were quartered there. They were for the most part well -clad in a gay uniform of red and blue, and every man had -a profusion of stripes on his sleeves or lace on his cap. -No one knew and no one asked whether they were Mochos -or Puros, Conservatives or Liberals,—for the nonce they -were Ramirez’s men. This General had been a Liberal -the month before, and was suspected of favoring the clergy -at this time. Who could tell? Who knew what he might -be on the morrow? In the night all cats are gray; in times -of perplexity all soldiers are patriots. The ragged urchins -of El Toro threw up their hats for the soldiers of Ramirez, -and the discreet householders leaned from their balconies -every evening to hear the little band play, and to exult -for a brief quarter of an hour in the mild excitement inseparable -from a garrison town.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata and Chinita had delighted in the distant music, -and had caught glimpses of the soldiers, as disenchanting -as those of the rude grimy structures they had in the -moonlight imagined to be marble palaces; they had -gazed up and down the dusty street and watched the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>noisy ragged urchins play “Toro” with a big-horned, -long-haired, decrepit goat, with crowds of half naked -elfin-faced girls as spectators, until they were actually -beginning to weary of the attractions of the town and -long for home,—when one day the beat of a drum was -heard and a squad of soldiers went filing past, with a -young officer riding at their head, who threw a glance so -killing at the balcony where the young girls stood that, -whether intended to reach her or not, it pierced the heart -of Rosario on the instant.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata had also noticed the young officer (a slender undersized -young fellow, with a swarthy lean face and keen black -eyes, shaded by a profusely decorated sombrero), but merely -as a part of the mimic pageant,—a prominent part, for the -trappings of his horse, as well as his own dress, were -covered by that profusion of ornament affected by gallants -whose capital was invested in the adornment of the person -with which they hoped to conquer fortune; for in those -days there were numberless roystering adventurers, who to -a modicum of valor united a vanity and assurance which -provided many a rich girl with a dashing and fickle husband, -and his country with a soldier as false to Mexico as -to his Doña Fulana.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was just after this that evening after evening Rosario -would lean pensively over the balcony rail, resisting -Chata’s entreaties to come to the garden where there -was no dust to stifle them, and where the dew would soon -begin to fall upon the larkspurs and roses, and already -the wide white cups of the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">gloria mundo</span></i> were beginning -to fill with perfume. The dew would chill her, the perfume -sicken her, Rosario said. Chata remonstrated; Rosario -smirked and smiled. Chata grew vexed; she thought the -smile in mockery of her. She need not have lost her sweet -temper,—Rosario was thinking of a far different person. -The young captain was walking slowly down the opposite -side of the street; he had just laid his hand on his heart. -It was on him Rosario smiled.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita, discreetest of mothers, was not one to leave -her daughters to their own devices unwatched. It was -she who always accompanied them in their walks or to -Mass; yet curiously enough the young captain found -means to slip a tiny note into Rosario’s ready hand, as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>she knelt on the grimy stone floor of the church. Obviously, -Doña Rita could not be in two places at once, -and she usually knelt behind Chata, who needed perhaps -some maternal supervision at her devotions; and it came -about that the space behind Rosario was occupied by -some stranger. It was Don José Maria who first noticed -that quite as a matter of course that stranger grew to be -the Captain Don Fernando Ruiz; and quite accidentally it -happened that thereafter the mother and daughters went -to an earlier Mass. Don José Maria was not so early a -riser as Don Fernando was; so he was not there, while -the young soldier was in his usual place.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata was perhaps a stupid little creature,—Rosario -it is quite certain would never have done such a silly -thing; but one day when Don Fernando had pressed a -note into the hand which was nearest to him, and which -in the confusion of dispersal happened to be that of the -smaller sister, she gave it in some indignation to her -mother. It was full of violent protestations of affection, -and entreated the life of his life to give her lover hope; it -was signed her “agonized yet adoring Fernando.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita showed herself capable of great self-control; -she said sadly that she would not ask which had been guilty -of attracting such impassioned admiration, but she assured -the girls she was heart-broken. When she reached the -house, after first carefully closing the door that her father -might not hear, she rated them both soundly. Chata did -not think it strange they should both be thought guilty; -she assumed that Rosario was as innocent as herself. -Doña Rita, giving Rosario the note to read, that she might -learn for herself the daring and presumption of which man -is capable, forgot in her indignation to reclaim it. An hour -afterward Chata saw Rosario read it over in secret, and -was scandalized to see her kiss it; and late that day, as -they stood as usual on the balcony (the little mother, as -Chata remarked, was so forgiving!), she caught Rosario’s -hand spasmodically as Fernando passed by, but the girl -released it with some impatience and slyly kissed the tips -of her fingers,—and Chata, with a pang of awakening, realized -that her sister had not been and was not so innocent -of coquetry as she had assumed, and thenceforth suffered -indescribable tortures between her sense of loyalty to her -sister and duty to her mother.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>Rosario’s ideal of truth was in accordance with that -which surrounded her; to be silent when speech was undesirable, -to equivocate pleasantly where plain speaking -would be harsh, to tell a lie gracefully where truth would -offend,—this was her natural creed, which she had never -questioned. But Chata, unknown to herself, had never -accepted it; her soul was like certain material objects -which resist the dyes that other substances at once absorb. -It was not enough for her to give the truth when it was -asked,—it was a torture, an unnatural crime, to her to -withhold it. She would not indeed have done so in this -case, had not Rosario in a manner put her upon her honor -the very next day.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The washerwoman had been there, and Rosario, who -was an embryo housewife, had been deputed to attend -her, and Chata, who had gladly escaped the duty, ran to -the bedroom when she saw the servant depart to congratulate -her sister on the dispatch she had made; when Rosario -closing the door mysteriously, cried: “Look! look what -he has sent me! Is it not beautiful, charming, divine?” -and she held up to the light her hand, on the first finger of -which glittered a ring.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Truth to tell, Chata was dazzled; at that moment her -own insignificance and the womanliness and beauty of -Rosario were more than ever apparent. She gazed at -Rosario with greater admiration than on the ring, beautiful -though it was. Here was a sister just her own age, yet a -woman with an actual lover! Oh!</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What will our mother say?” she began in an awed -voice, when Rosario, her womanly dignity gone, began to -spring up and down, screaming yet laughing, “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Ay, Dios -mio!</span></i>” throwing her hand over her shoulder and slipping it -into the loose neck of her dress. “Oh, my life! the creature -is down my back! it is crawling now on my shoulder! -No, no, grandfather,” for Don José Maria had entered, “it -is Chata who will help me. No, my mother! Ay, it is -gone now! I would not have you frightened, it was but -one of those bright little beetles that live on the roses;” -and she contemptuously tossed something out of the window, -and Chata saw with speechless wonder that the ring -which had been on her finger was gone. The bauble -at least had slipped into a secure hiding-place, and Chata -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>really could not determine whether the beetle had ever -existed or no.</p> - -<p class='c001'>An air of delightful mystery began to pervade not only -the house but the quiet street all the way from the plaza, -which Don Fernando Ruiz crossed at intervals in the long, -dull, sultry days. It became quite a diversion to the initiated -to watch what clever turns and doublings he would -make, and with what assumed indifference he would linger -by the fruit-stand at the corner, where old Antonina sold -tuñas or a few poor figs and lumps of roasted cassava -root. She made quite a fortune from the young captain, -who seemed bent on dazzling her bleared eyes; for every -day, and sometimes three or four times in a day, he appeared -resplendent in uniform of blue and red, or a riding -suit of buckskin embroidered in silver, or perhaps, when -his mood was sombre, in black hung with silver buttons, -and more than once in a suit of velvet and embossed -leather, with buttons of gold set with brilliants, and riding -a horse with accoutrements so splendid that Doña Rita -declared he must be as rich as the Marquis of Carabas -himself, and without any apparent consistency embraced -Rosario with tears.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Truth to tell, Doña Rita was a match-maker born, and -though her talents had lain dormant during the years she -had spent at the hacienda, they had not declined; and it -was natural that she should find a quiet exultation in exerting -them in favor of her daughter, for young though Rosario -was, her precocity and the custom of the country and -period rendered it perfectly natural that marriage should -present itself in her immediate future.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A vision of it rose before the impassioned girl like a star, -though there was a period of clouds and mourning when -her grandmother died, and Chata, sobbing in the garden or -moving sadly about the darkened rooms, wondered that -Rosario could smile over those pink notes she was always -stealing into corners to pore over. During the nine days -that her mother remained within doors receiving visits of -condolence, the notes indeed were the aliment upon which -Rosario’s fancy fed; for Doña Rita, though the little drama -of courtship had undoubtedly made less absorbing to her -the tragedy of illness and death, was too strict an observer -of the proprieties to allow her maternal affection to betray -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>her at such a time into permitting even a shutter to be left -ajar, or to suffer her daughter to approach a window to -satisfy herself by a momentary peep as to whether the -love-lorn captain was on his accustomed beat or no. It -was a time however when without offence the veriest -stranger might leave a card and word of sympathy, and -this he never failed to do from day to day. Doña Rita -would glance at the bit of cardboard with an affectation of -indifference, but it would always shortly disappear from -the table, and with the cruel sarcasm of childish intolerance -Chata would suggest to Rosario its suitability for -baking the little puffs of sugar and almonds upon, which -she was so deft at compounding.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At last the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">novena</span></i> of grief was ended, and taking her -aged father’s arm Doña Rita dutifully led him into the -street to breathe the air. Rosario knew that at that hour -the captain was on duty at the barracks, but nevertheless -could not resist the opportunity of stepping into the balcony -and gazing upon the scene from which she had been -so long debarred. A neighbor across the way greeted her -with a significant smile; and somewhat piqued, Rosario -drew back, half closed the shutters with a hesitating hand, -and then dropping on the floor in the long ray of sunlight -that streamed through the aperture, set herself to the ever -entrancing task of re-reading her lover’s letters.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As she sat there opening them one by one and after -perusal leaving them unfolded in her lap, she became so -absorbed that she did not notice the passage of time until -a footstep sounded behind her, and glancing up she saw -with trepidation that her grandfather was ushering in a tall -and imposing stranger, whose military garb made her heart -beat madly, for a wild thought of Fernando Ruiz flashed -through her mind. Her confusion was not lessened by -perceiving that the visitor was a man of more advanced -age and infinitely greater assumption of rank. The telltale -letters were in her lap, though involuntarily she had -dropped her reboso over them; but she dared not rise lest -they should drop in a shower around her, and she equally -feared the anger of her grandfather and the condemnatory -surprise of the visitor.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I pray you enter the house, Señor! Pass in, sir, pass -in!” she heard her grandfather say in his smoothest tones. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>“My daughter will be here almost immediately; but she -stopped at the convent for a moment to buy a blessed candle -to place before the altar of Our Lady of Succors. She -will be honored indeed by this visit. Take care, Señor, the -room is somewhat dark, but I will open a shutter. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Valgame -Dios</span></i>, what have we here?” as he caught sight of -the bent figure sitting in the narrow streak of sunshine. -“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba, niña</span></i>, rise! rise, I say! seest thou not the -Señor General?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay, but I have the cramp in my poor foot, my grandfather,” -cried Rosario in a voice of lamentation, vainly -endeavoring under cover of the reboso to make some -disposal of the letters which rustled alarmingly. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">No, -Señores</span></i>, by Blessed Mary my patroness, let me alone!” -she cried, as both her grandfather and the stranger -attempted to help her,—the latter with a faint gleam of -amusement in his eyes, the former with genuine consternation -depicted on his face. “Ay, Chata,” for by this time -her sister had appeared. “Oh, but my back is broken! it -is worse than when you struck me with the stick when you -were trying to knock the peaches from the tree. Oh! ah! -no, it is impossible for me to rise!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>In dire affright Chata knelt before her. “Oh, what -shall I do?” she cried, in remorse at the remembrance of -an escapade that had been almost forgotten, and in sudden -fear that it might have been the cause of her sister’s -present distress. “Oh, my life! I thought it was your -poor foot!” and she began rubbing one small slippered -member, while Rosario eagerly whispered, “Stupid one, -hide me these letters!” and the mystified Chata felt her -sister’s hand with a mass of fluttering papers thrust under -her arm, covered with the ever useful reboso.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Involuntarily the hapless confidant pressed them to her -side, and at the same moment Rosario limped from the -room, inwardly raging at making so poor a figure before -the General, while Chata, standing for a moment abashed, -was about to follow, when a voice which bewildered her by -its strange yet familiar accent said gayly, “And you, my -fair Señorita, have you never a twinge of the same disorder -that afflicts your sister?” and he glanced meaningly -at a pink envelope, which had fallen at her feet,—at the -same time covering it with his foot that it might not attract -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>the suspicious eye of the old man, who with profuse apologies -for the informality of the reception was assuring the -visitor that until that moment never had there been a -healthier damsel than his granddaughter Rosario, adding -with a sigh, “But the Devil robs with one hand and -pinches with the other.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata trembled and blushed painfully as she raised her -eyes timidly to the General’s, while with a sense of the -grotesque she was conscious of wondering whether he, -like herself, was thinking her grandfather had suggested -no complimentary agency in her grandmother’s removal to -another sphere. But at the instant all present perplexities -vanished in the surprise with which she recognized the -face which she had seen but for a few brief hours years -before,—the face of the man of whom Chinita had never -grown weary of talking. “The Señor General Ramirez,” -she said in a low voice, with some awe. She was more -than ever bewildered by the look he had fixed upon her. -She shrank back, barely dropping her hand for a moment -upon that he extended toward her. She was -actually inclined to be frightened, his eyes were so brilliant, -his smile so eager. The foolish thought struck -her that had not her grandfather been there, this strange -imperious man would surely have taken her in his -arms, would have kissed her! She hurried from the -room to find Rosario waiting for her at the end of -the corridor, alternately smothering her laughter in the -folds of her dress, and angrily chafing at her sister’s -delay.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Your horrid letters!” cried Chata, thrusting them -into her hands. “Here, take them, read them, laugh over -them or cry, or kiss them if you will! I hope I shall never -see a love-letter again in my life. He saw them,—the -Señor General. I know he did. Oh, what shame!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Pshaw!” interrupted Rosario. “What does it matter? -He will think none the worse of me. Without -doubt he is come on the part of Fernando to ask for me. -How proud and happy my mother will be, and how she -will rail at me! It will not be difficult for me to cry as -I ought, for I am mad with vexation to have appeared -such a fool when I should have been so dignified. Why, -the Señor will think me a child still! Does he not look like -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>some one we know, Chata? And yet we can never have -seen him before.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes,” returned Chata, “we have seen him. He is the -General José Ramirez.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, my heart!” ejaculated Rosario, dramatically. -“What a misfortune! My father hates the General -Ramirez because he once had some horses driven away -from the hacienda; and besides he is a good Christian -and fights for the Church! Ay, unlucky Fernando, to -have chosen such a messenger! But thank Heaven, it -is my mother who will first hear him! Ah, there she -comes!” and in irrepressible excitement Rosario grasped -her sister’s hand. “Oh, child!” she added sentimentally, -“you too may be asked in marriage some day!” and she -sighed with an air of vastly superior experience, while -Chata revolved in her mind what her playfellow Chinita -would say when she told her of this unexpected meeting -with the hero whom she fancied she had rendered invincible -by the gift of the amulet.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Like most children of her country Chata wore a scapulary. -It had lain upon her breast ever since she could remember. -She drew it out and looked at it. Some day she thought -she would open it; now she only made the sign of the -cross, as she replaced it. Rosario in nervous unrest had -left her. The cool of the evening had come; the perfume -of the flowers stole in at the open window, and the breeze -soothed the unusual agitation of her mind. Glad to be -alone, yet anxious and perplexed, she stepped into the -garden. More than once as she walked down the alley -she stopped, her heart palpitating violently. She fancied -she heard her name called, or that Ramirez would step -from the shadow of a tree to encounter her. It was an -unnatural and unchildlike mood quite new to her. It -seemed to her that her grandfather’s unnecessary mention -of the Devil’s name might have incited that enemy of -innocence to annoy her, and she whispered an <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Ave</span></i>.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was a large cluster of bananas just behind the -house. Chata sat down there to watch the fantastic clouds -which hovered where the sun had set. In her absorption -in the glowing scene she was unconscious that any sound -disturbed the silence around her. It was indeed but a low -indistinct hum, scarcely recognizable as the sound of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>human voices. Had she noticed them, she would have -remembered that she was within a foot or two of a window -which was screened from sight by the foliage, and would -have withdrawn from possible discovery; but as it was, -she remained there an unconscious trespasser. The first -distinct sound that reached her ear at once startled and -impressed her, for it was the deep voice of Ramirez uttering -her own name.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chata, yes it was Chata I said,” he affirmed dictatorially. -“Why attempt dissimulation with you, Señora? I -am in no humor for trifling. Will Doña Isabel provide a -dowry for your daughter? It is my fancy that Ruiz should -marry the little one, and I can make or mar him. So far -the boy has blundered, but if he once turns his eyes on -the pretty face of Chata, he will not find the mistake -irremediable.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata could not credit the evidence of her senses, and -remained as if rooted to the spot. She presently heard -her mother sobbing: “This is an unheard of thing! A -young man pays court to one child,—perhaps she is not -insensible to his advances,—and his patron comes to me -to bid me give him another, whom he has not perhaps even -glanced at. Oh, it is too much! too much!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I have already told you,” said Ramirez, coldly, “that -Ruiz is poor. His father was my father’s servant, and is -mine; more than once he has saved my life at the risk of -his own. Years ago he rendered me a service that I swore -to repay in a certain manner. More than once of late I -have been reminded of my promise, and the marriage of -Fernando with your daughter would render its fulfilment -impossible.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“By my patron saint!” cried Doña Rita, “it is -strange indeed that a poor little country girl should interfere -with the projects of a man as great as yourself. But -even if that is possible, why bid me give him Chata?”—adding -with asperity, “have I not done enough? No, -no! I will not, I cannot make my Rosario a sacrifice!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i>” cried Ramirez, laughing, “is it so dreadful -a thing that she should wait until the next lover comes,—he -will be sure to come, Señora,—and that she should -have a double dower to make her fairer in his eyes? for I -tell you Ruiz will ask no dowry from you with the little -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>one. Come, come, Señora, I am not used to reasoning -and pleading, yet I am not cruel. The child has been -yours too long for me to tear her from your arms. It was -a cunning device of Doña Isabel to hide her from me. -Ah, it is not the first trick she has served me, and, like -the others, she will find it turn to my advantage!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“As Heaven is my witness,” ejaculated Doña Rita, in -a voice of intense impulse and fear, “never have I breathed -to mortal the secret which you seem to know! Who are -you, sir? What have you to do with the child?” Suddenly, -she uttered a horrified shriek. Chata, who had started -from her seat with dilated eyes and lips parted, gasping -for breath, heard her mother spring to her feet, and rush -toward the door; heard also Ramirez follow her and apparently -draw her back, remonstrating in low tones. Then -she realized no more. Perhaps she fainted, though to -herself there appeared no interruption of consciousness. -Though she did not notice the stars come out, she beheld -them at last looking down upon her, as if they heard -the questions that were repeating themselves again and -again in her mind. Whose child was she; who was the -man who claimed the right to shape her destiny? That -she was not the child of Rafael Sanchez and his wife she -felt certain. Doña Rita had not denied the insinuation.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The child—all childish thoughts suddenly crushed -by the overwhelming revelation she had surprised—remained -in the same spot, unconscious of the passage of -time, until she heard her sister—no, Rosario—calling -her in anxious yet irritated tones: “Where art thou, -Chata? Chata, the supper is ready; the grandfather is -angry that thou art so long in the garden! Oh, here -thou art!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The two girls encountered each other in the dusk. -Rosario threw her arms around the truant. “How cold -thou art!” she said. “Hast thou seen a ghost here -alone? Bless me! one would think the General Ramirez -had brought the plague with him. My mother has shut -herself up, and when I went to her door to beg her to tell -me whether she was ill, she answered me, ‘The world -is all ill. Go dress saints, my child, it is all that is left -to thee!’ What could she have meant? Can it be after -all that the General did not come from Fernando?”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>Rosario stopped to wipe a tear from the corners of her -eyes. Evidently she was more perplexed than dismayed. -She was too young to fear the mischances and mishaps of -love. Her words recalled to Chata’s mind the fate that -was decreed to her,—to which she had given no second -thought, in her discovery that she was not the child of -those she called father and mother. Friendless, homeless, -nameless,—yes, she reflected bitterly, that she had <em>never</em> -been known by a Christian name,—she felt as though the -solid earth had opened beneath her, and she was clinging -desperately to some tiny twig or bough to prevent herself -from being engulfed forever. She clung hysterically to -Rosario, who had begun to laugh nervously. And so old -Don José Maria found them, and querulously bade them -go into the house; nothing but ill fortune would befall -maidens who wandered alone in the dark; did they not -know that the Devil stood always at the elbow of a -woman after the sun set? With which second-hand and -scurrilous wisdom the old philosopher ushered them into -the dimly lighted dining-room. Doña Rita was there, -and as the girls entered lifted her eyes, which were heavy -with weeping, and for the first time in her life Chata saw -in them aversion,—yes, actual fear and dislike.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The child sighed deeply, and sat down at a shaded -corner. No one noticed that she ate nothing. The old -man was sleepy, Doña Rita was occupied with Rosario, -who grew more and more depressed. From her mother’s -very kindness her daughter foreboded little good from the -tidings she could give her.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXIV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>For many succeeding days Chata seemed to herself to -be struggling to awaken from a torturing dream. The -household was very quiet. Doña Rita and Rosario went -gloomily to work to set the house in order and prepare -for departure; they talked together in low tones, and -sometimes one or the other would sigh in echo to poor old -Don José Maria, who was contemplating a lonely widowhood, -though a kindly cousin had consented to take -charge of his domestic affairs,—a kindness which was -taken exceedingly ill by the two elderly servants. It was -natural enough that the atmosphere around her should -be charged with gloom, and as natural that to Chata -it should seem a part of the evil dream from which she -longed to emerge. At times she thought desperately that -she would rush to Doña Rita and beg her to tell her all; -but she shrank from dispelling the illusion of her life, -from losing the father and mother whom she had believed -her own. Her father!—was it possible he could be other -than Don Rafael? No, no, no! she loved him, he loved -her; he was her own, her very own,—even Rosario did -not love and cling to him as she did. And if by word or -deed he was deposed from that relationship who would -take his place?</p> - -<p class='c001'>The unhappy girl shuddered from head to foot; her very -heart seemed to become ice. Who, if all she had heard -was true, could be her father but this man, General José -Ramirez,—the bloody guerilla, the unscrupulous robber? -He had not, it was true, declared so in as many words; -it would kill her to hear them—she would not hear them. -And so in a sort of dumb frenzy she resisted the temptation -to disclose what she had heard; and with a miserable -conviction that she was the object of suspicion and dislike, -and feeling herself a hypocrite and impostor, she lived -from day to day, nursing in her heart such repressed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>misery as perhaps only a sensitive and uncomprehended -child can feel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata was at the point in life where the intuitions of -womanhood begin to encroach upon the credulity and -frankness of immaturity. A year earlier it is likely she -would have gone to Rosario at once with her surprising -discovery; but now she unconsciously felt that she was—however -unwillingly—her rival. She needed no instruction -by word or experience to tell her that Rosario would -feel no sympathy with the stranger who had shared as a -sister in the love of father, mother, and friends, and who -it was purposed should be given to the man whom she -had herself won. Strangely enough the remembrance of -this only occurred to Chata at intervals, and simply in connection -with Rosario. Her mind was so engrossed by the -sense of desolation and the agonizing fear of the General -Ramirez, that the thought of Ruiz seldom presented itself -to her; and the possibility of his being in any way made -to affect her life seemed so absolutely incredible that even -the sight of him brought no blush to her cheek nor a thrill -of interest, either of dislike or latent kindness, to her -bosom.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The bewildered and suffering girl did not realize that -there was any change in her manner. Sometimes she -wondered that she could sleep all night, that she could -laugh, yes even talk, so wildly at times that Don José -Maria sniffed impatiently, and muttered that it was hard -an old man could not take his sorrow in quiet,—as if it -was some sort of soothing potion, which to be healthful -must be lingered over. But the truth was that the dull, -heavy, unrefreshing sleep which came to the child took -the place of food to her, besides following naturally upon -the physical exhaustion consequent on incessant thought -and movement; her sharp, penetrating laugh and inconsequent -babble were the outbursts of mental excitement -that otherwise must have found vent in passionate cries -and tears.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata, it is true, had suddenly become invested with a -new interest to Doña Rita, who, while events flowed -smoothly on, accepted without question the prevailing -opinions and sentiments of those surrounding her. She -had honestly thought she loved her foster daughter as her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>own, and that her welfare was as dear to her as that of -her own child; but now, without reasoning on the matter, -without a throb of anguish in contemplating the fate which -Ramirez might will for her, she saw in the girl but a -rival who, once knowing them, might well approve and -glory in the designs that threatened the pride and affections -of Rosario.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita dared not repeat to her daughter the substance -of her interview with Ramirez; and even had she -been at liberty to do so, her satisfaction in being the -possessor of an actual secret would have led her to assume, -as she did now, mild airs of superior wisdom,—which -were perhaps as effectual as words could have been -in assuring Rosario that the opposition which the General -Ramirez had urged against his subaltern’s engagement was -more serious than the ordinary interest of a patron would -have induced him to make; and for a week or more her -affectations of despair, her abundant tears and hopeless -sighs, were sufficient to justify her mother’s exaggerated -tenderness,—a tenderness which Chata contrasted bitterly -with the indifference that permitted her own suffering -to pass unnoticed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The secret fear of Chata’s heart was that she might -meet Ramirez, might even be called upon to speak with him. -The thought of either filled her with a frenzy of dread. -Had it been possible she would have fled from the town. -Oh, if she could but have hoped to find her way to the -hacienda alone, even though she dared not make herself -known to Doña Feliz and the administrador! Oh, was -it possible that they could be cold, suspicious, as Doña -Rita was? The thought was an impiety, yet it returned to -her again and again, and her dread of meeting Don Rafael -became—from vastly differing causes—almost as strong -as that with which she imagined herself enduring the -mocking and triumphant scrutiny of Ramirez. In her -desolation the memory of Chinita rose before her. Oh, -to steal with her into the hut and lean her head upon the -breast of that poor waif, who must in her woman’s consciousness -be feeling something of the misery that day -by day was becoming more agonizing and unendurable to -Chata! The similarity of lot so unexpectedly revealed -to her seemed to explain the irresistible attraction which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>the foundling—who had apparently been so far removed -from her by caste and circumstance—had always -possessed for her. At the thought, a tint of crimson -suffused her neck and face. How could she know but -that in the obscurity of Chinita’s life as the adopted child -of a poor gate-keeper, even the foundling had perhaps -less to blush for than the supposed daughter of the -administrador?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita had talked much during the early part of -her visit of the family affairs of the important personages -whom her husband served. Chata had heard the talk -with more entertainment than interest; but she was of a -reflecting and acute mind, and she began now to weave -theories and form conclusions which sometimes startled, -sometimes horrified her. Had she but caught the name -that had brought the shriek from Doña Rita’s lips the evening -the General Ramirez had talked with her! But without -that clew her speculations were idle, and she tortured -herself in vain, yet with unconscious dissimulation hid her -wild and bitter thoughts beneath an exterior that to the -ordinary observer appeared one of thoughtless rather than -feigned and hysterical levity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the fear of meeting the General—though the temptation -often came upon her to fly from the house lest he -might enter it—Chata avoided going into the streets, and -but that she feared it might prove a deadly sin she would -even have made an excuse of illness to remain from Mass. -But this might not be, though no temptation of a week-day -feast would draw her forth. And thus it happened that -she and Doña Rita were alone when the General Ramirez -for the second time visited the house.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Rosario by chance had accompanied her grandfather on -a visit. She had gone in the best of spirits; for she had -shown Chata a note from Ruiz, in which he declared that -though forbidden to ask for her until in the course of the -revolution he had acquired a competency, or her father -should lose his unjust prejudices against the Church party, -he should ever remain true to her, and should live only in -the hope of calling her his own. For the first time Chata -had embraced Rosario with a genuine sympathy with this -love which seemed so true and yet so hopeless, and had -watched her turn the corner leading to the plaza, when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>she was suddenly aroused from a melancholy—which was -actual repose compared to the state of excitement that -had long possessed her—by the sound of a quick, imperious -knock upon the street door; and glancing down, she -saw the General Ramirez impatiently flicking his boot with -the small cane he carried, and glancing up and down the -street as if suspicious rather than desirous of observation. -He had not seen her she was sure. Quick as -thought she ran through the room, and passing through -the window pushed open a door which led to the parapeted -flat roof of the back building, and crouching behind -a low brick wall prayed breathlessly to the Virgin -for protection. It was a solitary place, where only a servant -came sometimes to place a tub of water to be heated -in the noonday sun, or to hang some household article for -speedy drying. It was not likely, even were she wanted, -they would think to look for her there. She was out of -hearing, away from all the ordinary sounds of the house; -no voice could reach her there,—not even that voice -whose accents she could never forget, which had made -her desolate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As the time passed on and the stillness grew oppressive, -and the sunbeams, which had at first annoyed and -distracted her, stole to the wall and at last receded altogether, -a sense of bitter forlornness and weariness overcame -her; and ceasing from the vain repetitions of -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Aves</span></i> and <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Pater nosters</span></i>, Chata clasped her hands over -her face, and resting it upon her knees burst into heart-rending -sobs.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Her passion did not continue long; it was perhaps too -severe. It was arrested as by a blow,—by the sudden -bang of a heavy door. She lifted her head and listened. -Was it fancy, or did she hear the rattle of musketry? It -was an unfamiliar sound, and yet she recognized it. -What had happened? Was an enemy entering the town? -Had the garrison revolted? Accounts of such events -were too frequent to make these conjectures other -than natural even to Chata’s unwarlike mind. She hastily -rose, pushed aside the bolt of the heavy door, and -stepping into the corridor found herself face to face -with Doña Rita.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, you are here!” that lady exclaimed in a hurried -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>and abstracted manner, far different from that which she -would usually have worn at the discovery of such a misdemeanor. -“I have been seeking you everywhere,—I could -not send a servant. And now something has happened in -the street, and he has rushed away without seeing you,—the -Señor General Ramirez, I mean.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I know whom you mean!” cried Chata. “Oh, my -mother, why should I see him?” Then with wild passion -she threw herself at Doña Rita’s feet, and buried her face -in her skirts and the flowing ends of her reboso. “Oh, tell -me that it was not true—what I heard! I was in the garden -the other evening as you talked! Oh, my mother, -my mother!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita looked down at her in startled surprise, but -almost instantly an expression of relief rose to her countenance. -“Rise, child, rise!” she said in a low, not ungentle -voice; yet there was an inexpressible lack of maternal -solicitude in it, which struck to the heart of the suffering -child. “Listen; be reasonable; have I not ever been -kind to thee? I do not blame thee even now that thou art -forced to repay me so ill; it is not thy fault.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But you shall not be repaid so ill!” exclaimed Chata. -“I will be your child forever. Oh, it is not possible that -he—this strange man, who frightens me—would dare -take me from you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Bless me, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>, you are a strange one! If you but -knew it, you have rare good fortune. A handsome lover -and a rich dowry are not to be had every day for the asking. -But you show a proper spirit, and one I should have expected -after the good training you have had. Heaven -knows what would have been the result had you been given -to Doña Isabel, and allowed to run at large like most -of the children of Our Blessed Lady. Yet it was a cruel -trick my mother-in-law played me, and Rafael too! Well, -well, it shall be brought home to him some day. Listen! -was not that the sound of cannon? and my child abroad! -Ave Maria Sanctissima!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Mother, be not afraid!” said Chata, desperately. -“She and my grandfather will not yet have left Doña -Francisca’s, and that you know is quite away from the -plaza or the barracks; they have only to cross the gardens -and be home in a ‘God speed us!’ But as for me, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>I am in more fright and misery than if a thousand guns -were levelled upon me. Do you not see, I know only -that I am not your child! Who am I? What is to become -of me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The last seems settled already,” returned Doña Rita, -with an accent of chagrin which was almost spiteful; -“and the long and short of it is, child, that you were -sent to Doña Isabel, but that my mother-in-law had the -fancy you would be safer with me; and I, like a tender-hearted -simpleton, did not object to humoring her -whim, thinking at the same time I was doing a person -whom I loved a service she would know how to appreciate,—and -now when the time has come for recompense, -instead of gain, comes loss. There is nothing in this -world but vexation and disappointment.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I cannot understand anything of this,” said Chata, -with a deep sigh. She had risen to her feet, and was -looking pitifully at Doña Rita, who walked up and down -the corridor, listening to the distant and irregular firing, -and interrupting her discourse with interjections and -doubts as to the safety of her daughter. “But when I -see my father, Don Rafael, I will ask him, or Doña -Feliz,—yes, Doña Feliz always loved me.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay, but you must ask nothing,” almost screamed -Doña Rita, running to Chata and seizing her by the -shoulders. “They will think it was I who betrayed the -secret; they will never forgive me. Oh, I should lead a -dog’s life! <a id='corr207.28'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='Yon'>You</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_207.28'><ins class='correction' title='Yon'>You</ins></a></span> are not old enough to know how cruel an -angry husband or a baffled mother-in-law can be. And -poor Rosario—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What can it matter to Rosario?” interrupted Chata. -“Were you not lamenting that her dowry would be so -small? Will it not be double now that I shall not innocently -rob her?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, yes,” whispered Doña Rita, eagerly. “The General -Ramirez promised me this very day that when you, -Chata, married Ruiz, he would make a gift to Rosario of all -my husband may bestow on you, and that as much more -should be given her on her wedding day, provided that the -secret of your birth be kept. It is useless to ask me his -reasons. He gave me none. I cannot guess them any -more than I can surmise why Doña Isabel would not receive -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>you, and therefore you were thrust into my arms. -Heavens, what a reverberation! the whole house shakes!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is nothing,” cried Chata, “but the slamming of a -door. I hear the voices of Don José Maria and Rosario. -Stay!” she added, grasping Doña Rita as she was about -to run down the stairs. “I warn you that I will know -all the truth. Your poor reasons shall not keep me from -demanding it. Doña Feliz shall not refuse me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Doña Feliz will do as she wills!” retorted Doña Rita. -“But this I tell you, child, that the moment Ramirez -knows that those who once crossed his plans are warned -against him, you will be spirited away. Ramirez has -his own purposes, and is not to be thwarted. He is -already angry against Rafael and Doña Feliz for their -attempted and long successful deception. He is a man of -great and mysterious power, and knows not the meaning -of the word forgive; and as sure as you stand there, if -you disobey his commands sent you through me he will -separate you at once from your home and friends, and -bring ruin upon those who have cared for you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita spoke with that impressive eloquence and fire -which upon occasion seems at the command of every Mexican. -She stood with one foot on the corridor floor, the -other upon the stair, which she was about to descend, and -she had turned half-way round, stretching out her hands, -and lifting her dark and anxious eyes to encounter and fix -the gaze of Chata. Below, in the stone entrance-way, stood -Rosario, volubly describing to a servant the dangers she -and her grandfather had encountered. For the moment -Doña Rita appeared in Chata’s eyes like some timorous -yet desperate animal standing between her and her young. -“My Rosario, my poor child,” said the mother in a low -voice, “is her life to be blasted by you? Ramirez is in -two minds now. One is to resent the frustration of his -will, and be the mortal enemy of those who have sheltered -you; the other to applaud and reward them. Upon your -discretion all depends.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But I shall go mad if I have only this to think upon,” -exclaimed Chata. “Who, who can tell me anything to -make this dreadful revelation endurable, if not Don Rafael -or Doña Feliz? Ah, yes, there is—there is the General.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Surely!” replied Doña Rita. “Yes, my life, I am -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>coming”—to Rosario. “Yes, Chata, could I have found -you to-day, you would have known all. Ask him what -you like—it will please him. Oh, he is most considerate. -Did he not show that by taking me into his confidence? -Yes, yes, you are right; insist upon knowing all from him, -and you shall tell me: who could understand, or sympathize -so well? But as you love me and value the safety of -Rafael, not a word to him or Doña Feliz.—Rosario! what -an impatient one! What is there to see? If there is commotion -in the street, keep back from the windows. Ay, who -would have thought the troops would pass this way? God -save us, we shall be killed! the whole town will be destroyed! -The street is alive with soldiers. Bar the doors! -close the shutters! Oh, what horror! Is it Comonfort -returned? Is it a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamiento</span></i>? What new alarm -is this?” Ejaculating these last sentences Doña Rita -hurried downstairs and rushed from room to room, -directing the bewildered servants and chiding Rosario, -who, attracted by the sound of music and the trampling -of men and horses, strove to peep through a crack in the -shutters.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata, standing where she had been left at the head of -the stairs, heard it all as though in a dream. She said -over and over to herself, “It is the General I will ask. -Yes, yes, I will have the courage! No word of mine shall -bring danger on my father. Oh, why do I say ‘my father’? -Yes, I will say so; he is mine until he turns me away! -Oh, what shall I do? Oh, Sanctissima Maria, help thy -child! May I not say to Don Rafael, ‘Here is thy poor -little child; she will be the daughter of no other’? Oh, I -know he would cling to me, fight for me; but that Doña -Rita says would be ruin! Ah, I know the soldier is cruel -and false, even if he is my father; he has been so to -me—” She stopped suddenly, as though blasphemy had -escaped her. Though she would not believe in her heart -the testimony which her reason could not disallow, she -was struck dumb by the mere possibility of filial disrespect -and with the actual abhorrence which she felt in her -bosom toward the man whom she instinctively feared.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As if to flee from her thoughts, she rushed into a room -that faced upon the street, and with an impulse such as -leads the desperate man to throw himself into a vortex of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>seething water, or into the thickest of battle, as her ear -caught the sounds of commotion, she threw open the shutters -and stepped out upon the balcony.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A scene of confusion met her eye, in which men on -horseback and on foot seemed mingled indiscriminately, -each individual struggling in an attempt to secure a personal -advantage. Ranks were broken and scattered. -Men and officers alike were for the most part un-uniformed, -and to the uninitiated it was impossible to -distinguish the adherents of one party from those of another, -save by the wild cries of “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Religion y Fueros!</span></i> -Long live Liberty! Long live Juarez!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The name of Juarez had begun to be a familiar one -in all ears; and even though it possessed not the magic -of later years, the voices that uttered it thrilled with an -intensity of purpose which seemed to infuse the word -with life,—to make it a watchword for great and noble -aspirations and deeds, not the mere echo of a name, a -party cry to be shouted with frenzy to-day and execrated -to-morrow.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was impossible to tell what chance had forced the -combatants upon that straggling highway. The struggle -had begun at the barracks, when a party of horse had surprised -the garrison, pouncing upon it from the hills like -hawks upon their prey, and by the sheer force of surprise, -rather than any superiority of numbers or courage, throwing -it into a confusion which in spite of the efforts of the -young officers speedily resulted in a panic. The soldiers -who had been drilling before the town prison,—which had -done duty as a fort,—after a feeble and confused attempt -to defend its doors, had been driven into the plaza; and -when Ramirez reached this, it was to find his own guns -turned upon him. His servant had been leading his -charger up and down the street, awaiting him; and -catching a glimpse of his master as he hurried past an -alley in which the groom had taken refuge, he called in -mingled devotion and affright,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“For God’s sake, Señor! here is the black. Mount -him for your life! another moment and we should have -been discovered! Everybody knows Choolooke, and my -life would not have been worth a cent had they caught -sight of him. My faith, I like not these surprises! This -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>way, Señor! Around by the church there is an alley unguarded. -They are fighting like ten thousand devils in -the plaza. It is madness to go there!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez sprang into the saddle with a laugh, though his -lips were white and his eyes blazing with rage. It was a -new experience to him to be thus caught napping,—his -scouts must have played him false. His horse snorted -and bounded under him. In another moment he was in -the midst of the mêlée, and an electric shock seemed to -pass through friends and foes alike. There were wild -shrieks at sight of him. The exultant invaders echoed -with some dismay the name of Ramirez, the battle-cry -with which his followers made an attempt to rally, seizing -arms from the hands of their opponents, or using the pistols -which had remained forgotten in their belts.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For a few moments the plaza appeared to be a veritable -battle-ground, though there was far more noise and confusion -than actual fighting done. Ramirez knew with -infinite rage and shame that he would probably be forced -to yield the town, rather by strategy than superior numbers. -It would have been an actual pleasure to him at -the moment to have seen his followers falling in their -blood, rather than flying disarmed,—even though they -should rally later and take a terrible revenge upon the -enemy. For an instant his presence stemmed the current -of retreat, but for an instant only. There had been a -secret dissatisfaction in his ranks, which the sight of -the well-known face of a popular leader, together with -panic, rapidly fermented into a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamiento</span></i>; and -even as Ramirez, waving his sword above his head, entered -the street of the Orchards, he was saluted with the shout, -“Down with Ramirez! Down with the Clergy! Long -live Juarez! Long live Gonzales!” and through the dust -and smoke he caught sight of Vicente Gonzales, almost -unrecognizable under the grime of the hurried march and -the heat of excitement and success.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The two were so close together they could have touched -each other. One of those hand-to-hand encounters which -the history of Mexico proves were not infrequent even at -that date seemed inevitable, as they turned toward each -other with the fury of personal hatred added to partisan -animosity.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>But at the moment when the two fiery steeds would -have clashed together, a woman threw herself before -Ramirez and caught his arm, calling aloud his name. -With that wonderful power of the bridle-hand possessed -by the horsemen of Mexico, Gonzales drew back his -charger and gazed full at his opponent, whom force more -potent than a blow seemed to arrest. The crowd surged -in; Ramirez’s horse was forced back. The woman -had fallen in the mêlée; and with a curse upon her the -guerilla chieftain was swept onward in the current of -retreat.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata from the balcony had witnessed this incident in -the distance. She shrieked as the woman fell. An officer -who was speeding past looked up,—it was Fernando Ruiz. -“Coward!” she involuntarily cried, “to leave your General!” -She realized how impossible, having lost the first -moment of vantage, would be an attempt to control the -undisciplined and flying rabble when even the officers had -succumbed to panic; and for the first time her sympathies -woke for Ramirez.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Yielding to the necessity of the moment the General -had put spurs to his horse. The bullets flew past him as -he sped over the highway; yet he glanced up as he passed -the house,—he even drew rein for an instant in alarmed -surprise.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Go in! go in!” he cried. “What! wilt thou be -killed in mere wantoness? Go in, I tell thee! Are <em>both</em> -to be killed before my eyes to-day?” Chata sprang -through the open window in affright, obedient rather to -his stern yet imploring gesture than to his words. He -glanced back, fired a pistol toward a pair of Liberal -soldiers who had rapidly gained upon him, and without -the change of a muscle upon his set face, as one of them -pitched headlong from his plunging steed, continued his -flight and disappeared in the low bushes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With horror Chata watched the death agony of the -wounded soldier. His comrade had not thought it worth -while to linger; there might be booty or sport elsewhere. -All the church bells were being rung for the victory by -this time. The half hour’s fight was over; the fort had -been taken, the garrison routed, a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamiento</span></i> successful; -the town had changed its politics. A few dead -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>men were lying in the streets, a few wounded were bathing -or plastering their bleeding heads or limbs; the closed -houses were opening again; the street merchants were -setting forth their wares; and one of the thousand phases -of the revolution had passed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The next day the Liberal soldiers were lounging about -the streets; the boys were shouting, “Long live Gonzales!” -as they went by, as they had shouted before, “Long live -Ramirez!” A tranquil gayety pervaded the place. No -one would have known its peace had ever been disturbed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>So lovely was the afternoon, and the distant sounds of -the band playing in the plaza were so inspiring, that -Doña Rita and her two charges sallied forth to visit the -convent. They had often been there before. Rosario -thought it dull to wait while her mother chatted at the -grating with the soft-voiced nuns, but Chata watched them -with awe. There was one whose pale face used to peer -out wistfully through the semi-darkness; her voice and -her large dark eyes, it seemed to Chata, were always -softened by tears. She longed to touch the white hand -which she sometimes saw raised to the sensitive lips, as if -to check some ill-considered word.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Upon this day some rays of light piercing the barred -window of the corridor rendered the features of the nun -unusually distinct. A sense of bewilderment stole over -Chata as she gazed upon them. Where had she seen -them before? Who was this Sister Veronica?</p> - -<p class='c001'>The short time allowed for the interview expired; the -attendant nun gave her hand to Doña Rita to kiss in token -of dismissal, and turned away. As the Sister Veronica -extended her hand in turn, Doña Rita caught it eagerly: -“Forgive me! Forgive me! Oh, I had thought so ill of -you,” she said earnestly; “yet to think ill of you seemed -to make my own life noble. Forgive me, Señorita Herlinda, -that I ever thought you anything but a true and -spotless saint!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The eyes of the nun opened wide. “Forgive, forgive? -I have nothing to forgive; why should not you—ay, all -the world—condemn me?” she whispered hoarsely. “Oh, -Rita, that face! that face!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>At that instant the slide was drawn and the white face -and eager eyes of the nun disappeared.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>Chata turned to look behind her where the nun had -apparently directed her gaze. A woman was crouching -on the door-sill. She was not old, though over her wonderful -Spanish beauty some power of devastation seemed -to have swept. She was carelessly but richly dressed, the -disorder of her person seemingly according with that of -her manner,—perhaps of her intellect; for though evidently -a lady by birth, she lay in the sun, her head uncovered, -her shawl thrown back from her shoulders, her hair, -which was of a peculiar reddish brown, half uncoiled, -twining like little serpents around her throat.</p> - -<p class='c001'>She glanced carelessly up as Doña Rita and the young -girls passed her. Chata saw with surprise that one side -of her face was bruised, and there was a deep scratch on -her arm. Where had she seen before the glint of that -shining hair? It flashed over her in a moment. This -was the woman who had thrown herself upon Ramirez!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata involuntarily paused, but Doña Rita caught her -hand and drew her away. She had motioned Rosario on -before. Her very garments had rustled with disdain as -she passed the prostrate woman.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Such as these one can at least be certain of,” she -said sententiously. It was not a pleasant thing to own -one’s self mistaken. Chata detected chagrin in the tone -of her voice: was she piqued that she had misjudged Sister -Veronica? Then she remembered with a start what -the new interest of the moment had driven from her mind,—the -name by which her mother had addressed the nun: -it was of the Señorita Herlinda that her mother had -asked pardon!</p> - -<p class='c001'>A feeling of awe crept over her. She had seen Doña -Isabel’s beautiful and sainted daughter, around whose -name hung so much romance and mystery. And oh the -sadness of that face! the wistfulness of those eyes! the -appealing agony of that voice!</p> - -<p class='c001'>When they reached the house the door was ajar; there -was a mild excitement within. A familiar voice saluted -their ears. Doña Rita clutched Chata’s arm and whispered, -“Not a word, I command thee!” and with a -glance of mingled entreaty and menace followed Rosario -to greet Don Rafael with exclamations of welcome and -delight.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>Chata took with icy fingers the hand he extended at -sight of her and bent over it with tears and kisses. “My -father, my own father!” she whispered. Even had she -been at liberty to do so, she would not for the world have -broken the spell of those words.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“My patron saint!” cried Don Rafael, regarding her -with puzzled fondness, “what has come to the child?” -He caught her on his arm and held her from him. Her -eyelids lowered, her color rose beneath his gaze. Presently -he released her and turned away. He had not -kissed her. Had he forgotten? Had some new, deep -feeling withheld him? Chata felt cold and faint; he too -had muttered under his breath, “That face! that face!” -and <em>he</em> had spoken those words of <em>her</em>.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>For many days following the unexpected event which -closed the feast of Juana’s marriage, an old proverb went -the rounds of the gossips of Tres Hermanos: “She who -would handle the wild-cat should wear steel gloves.” -Doña Isabel had heard it perhaps, though it was not -likely to reach her ears then: and assuredly she had -reason to remember it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Perhaps when Chinita crossed the court and followed -Doña Isabel upstairs to her own room, dazzling visions -flitted before her of being clasped in the embrace of her -patroness, and being called by the name which to her -was sovereign. But nothing of the sort occurred. Doña -Isabel threw herself into a chair as if exhausted, and bent -her face upon her hands, leaving the child standing so -long regarding her in silence that at length her impatient -spirit rose in rebellion, and she said, “The Señora surely -brought me here for something more than to stand like a -drowsy hen waiting for morning.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel raised her head at these words, which -though impatient did not strike her as impertinent,—she -was too well acquainted with the characteristic speech of -her inferiors, rich in quaint phrases and figures drawn -from familiar objects,—and regarding the girl with that -curious mixture of admiration and repulsion which never -entirely disappeared, she replied,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thou art a proud child. Humility would better become -thee. Hast thou no other name than Chinita, which -I hear all call thee?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I was baptized like any other Christian,” cried Chinita, -indignantly. “And as for surname,” she added recklessly, -“if I am not Garcia, you Señora, will tell me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel’s lips compressed; no effort of her will -could prevent the falling of her eyelids,—an actual fear -of the girl seized her; yet she was fascinated. She said -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>not a word, and presently Chinita began to laugh in a -low, triumphant tone, which was to Doña Isabel like the -mocking of a thousand devils.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hush, hush!” she said violently at length. “You -distract, you madden me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She caught up a candle, took the girl’s hand and drew -her impetuously into the corridor. She tried several doors, -and opened the first that yielded. It was not until they -stood within the room that Doña Isabel knew it was -that (long deserted, half unconsciously avoided ) of Herlinda. -She started, and clasped her hand over her heart. -Then as if scorning her weakness, pointed to the bed, and -without a word turned from the room.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With a sense of wild exultation Chinita saw she was -to sleep in a bed, like a woman of quality; in the very -bed of the daughter, whose name, like that of a saint, -was spoken with bated breath by the vulgar, and was -perhaps too sacred for utterance by those who had -loved her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The little structure of brass, with its mattresses and -pillows, its linen and lace, was unpretentious enough, but -Chinita walked around it and eyed it almost in awe, as if -it had been the throne of a princess. The candle was beginning -to flicker in its socket when she at last lay down, -adjusting her head to the unaccustomed pressure of the -pillows with some difficulty, saying to herself with an -impatient smile, “What a poor creature I am! Even -the things I have longed for hurt more than please me to -learn to use. But there must be still greater things to -conform to, and I shall do it. Oh, yes, Sanchita thought -she could ride in a coach, and be taken for a lady as well as -another; and I who was born a lady must forget I have -been ever a Sanchita. It should not be hard!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had slept far better upon the preceding night -upon a sheepskin. Her excitement and the unusual comfort -of the bed kept her wakeful; and at early dawn she was -up, peeping into the wardrobe, where long-disused dresses -and other garments were hanging. She took down one of -bright silk and put it on, and thought how exactly it fitted -her. She could scarcely see herself in the dim mirror, and -she went to the door to open it for the admission of more -light, and with a momentary fright found herself a prisoner. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>She decided in a moment that Doña Isabel had no intention -of detaining her beyond the sleeping hours, yet a -feverish impulse seized her to escape at once. That any -one should hold her at a moment’s disadvantage was intolerable -to her. Without thinking of the dress she had -on, she glanced around her eagerly for means of egress. -The window was barred, but there was a door that opened -into an adjoining chamber, into which she passed -hastily, finding the door that opened on the corridor actually -ajar. As her way was open, she was in no hurry -to depart, but stood balancing herself on one foot, holding -by one hand to the door-post, and with the other -pushing back her hair that she might see clearly into -the court.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Not a creature was astir; the very bird that was in a -cage hanging near her stood silently on his perch, with -his head on one side, gazing through the bars as if in -pensive wonderment at the silence.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had a feeling that the world had been transformed -with her; she was half terrified, yet amused, and -longed for some one to speak to. Could she speak the -old words, the accustomed sounds? Was she indeed -Chinita and not another? Had Rosario or Chata been -under the same roof, she would have been tempted to run -to them at once with the query; but there was no one who -would know what she meant if she put such a question to -them. They would only laugh and stare and pass on. -Ah, there was one who could not pass on! At a bound -she was on the stairs, and in a minute stood at the door -of the stranger’s room. It was open; he liked the air. -Early as it was, Selsa had left him; so without let of -hindrance Chinita seated herself at the foot of the bed, -and with expressive pantomime began to inquire into the -state of the wounded shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young man looked at her in amaze. This was -the strangest of the strange visitors he had had. At first -he did not recognize her in the incongruous dress; but -a glance at the elfin face and the mop of curls recalled to -his mind the name Chinita, and he held out his hand -with a gesture of welcome and surprise, and even found -words in his meagre stock of Spanish to ask her where she -had been.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>“I have been in my home,” she answered with a great -show of dignity. “Do you not see, I am a lady, a grand -lady?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She had risen and spread out the silken dress with her -hands. The young man caught one of the locks of her -hair, and pulled it teasingly, “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">No comprendo</span></i>, I don’t -understand. Tell me where is your mother? Where is -your <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">padre</span></i>?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Such a mixture of languages should have been unintelligible, -but Chinita understood very well, and with a sudden -prompting of the spirit of mischief which was never far -from her, replied, “<em><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Padre mio muerto! Americano -guero, como Ud.! Oh, si Americano!</span></em>”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What!” cried the young man in English, “Your -father dead! An American? Fair like me?” He had -clutched the lock of hair so tightly, as he rose in his -bed in his excitement, that her head was quite near him. -“Are you quite sure? Can it be possible?” adding, with -sudden remembrance that intelligent though she was it -was impossible she should understand his foreign tongue, -and angry as he saw her at his vehemence, it was unlikely -she should care to divine his meaning, “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Niña -bonita</span></i>, pretty child, pardon me! Your father an <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Americano</span></i>? -Well, that is wonderful! I <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Americano</span></i>,—I, -Ashley Ward. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Pardona mi!</span></i>”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita was not to be at once appeased; but she saw -with inward delight that he was much impressed by her -claim jestingly set forth to American parentage, and -there was something in the sound of his name that recalled -to her mind the man who had been murdered so many -years ago. She began with a thousand gestures, which -made somewhat intelligible her voluble Spanish, to give an -account of him. The young man listened with intense -excitement, anathematizing his ignorance of the language -in which she spoke, yet convinced that chance had led -him to the very spot which he had had it in his mind to -seek. In the interest of her narration, Chinita forgot the -assertion she had made; but her listener more than once -supposed that she alluded to it, and looked intently upon -her face to catch a glimpse of some expression that should -remind him even of the race to which the man of whom -she spoke had belonged. But there was nothing. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>features, expression, color, were those of a Mexican of -mixed Spanish and Indian types, with nothing individual -other than a weird beauty and vivacity, and the peculiar -hair which had suggested the name that even Doña Isabel -did not seek to disassociate from her. For at the moment -when the interest of her narrative was at its height, -and Ashley Ward had risen on his pillows and was following -her every gesture with mute and rapt attention, the -lady of the mansion entered, calling breathlessly, “Chinita! -Chinita!” suddenly arresting her steps, as she caught the -concluding words: “And so he was killed! And they say -it was not a man, but the Devil who did it. But for my -part I don’t believe it, for the ghost of the American -can be seen under the tree or at the old reduction-works -any night; and it’s not likely Señor Satan would -give so much liberty to a soul he seemed so anxious -to get.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had finished her sentence with a certain defiance, -for she felt guilty before Doña Isabel,—not so much for -being found in the room of the wounded guest, as because -of her borrowed attire. But Doña Isabel did not seem to -notice that. “Thou art wrong to come here,” she said; -“thou art wrong to talk like a scullery-maid of things -thou dost not understand. What did I hear thee say of -an American as I came in?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Did I say American?” retorted Chinita with a laugh -at the thought of the jest she had made, for the idea of -falsehood did not occur to her. “Ah, yes! I told him -the American was my father! He would have believed -me even had I said Señor San Gabriel. Oh, it is a -grand diversion to see his eyes open with wonder! Selsa -says he is dumb and deaf and understands nothing, but -there is not a word I say that he does not understand -quickly enough; and he knows—” But she ceased -suddenly, for Doña Isabel was deadly white. She had -turned to the American almost fiercely, and demanded -hoarsely, “What has this child told you? What tale -has she poured into your ears, wild, improbable,—the -dreams of a child, filled with the superstitious tales of -the common people? What have you heard? What have -you believed?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley Ward looked at her in some surprise at her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>vehemence. Her gestures did not translate to him the -purport of words which had not even a familiar sound. -After a moment he shook his head, and said slowly: “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">No -comprendo!</span></i> I do not understand Spanish.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel breathed freely; her rigid face relaxed; -she almost smiled. “Foolish child,” she said to Chinita; -“he does not understand our language. Come, thou -shalt have chocolate with me. I am not angry, though -thou art a runaway.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita seldom afterward found Doña Isabel so gracious -when she had committed a fault; but she discovered -at night, when she was left in her room alone, that that -particular escapade was not to be repeated. The door -which led to the adjoining room was locked, as well as that -which opened upon the corridor. She shook the bars of -the window in impotent rage. She opened her mouth to -scream, to wake the echoes with the name of Pedro, but -at a second thought refrained, and went and lay quietly -down like a baffled animal reserving its strength for the -time when its prey should be near. She did not sleep. -She had done nothing to tire her, and also she had -dropped into slumber more than once during the day in -the silence of Doña Isabel’s room, where she had sat -watching her, as she opened drawers and boxes, and as if -by stealth moved various articles to a large trunk, turning -from it with affected carelessness when Doña Feliz or any -servant entered.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita was living over again in her mind the long monotonous -day, feeling as if a thunder-clap or some convulsion -of Nature must break upon the feverish stillness, -when she heard a tap at her window. The sash was -already raised, but she sprang noiselessly from the bed -and across the floor, and thrust her hand through the bars, -for she divined that Pedro had called her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is but for a moment, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>,” he whispered, almost -humbly, as he kissed her hand. “But tell me, art thou -happy; art thou content?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Why should I not be happy?” she asked. “I have -worn a silk gown all day long, and have eaten and drunk -things so dainty a humming-bird might sip them; and -Doña Isabel has dared not say no to me,—though she -does not love me, Pedro, and I love not her.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>“Then thou wilt come again to poor Pedro, who does -love thee?” queried the gatekeeper in a tremulous and -doubting voice.</p> - -<p class='c001'>She withdrew her hand, tossing her head scornfully. -“No,” she said. “You know how the black cat strayed -once into the hut, and though Florencia drove him away, -and would strike and frighten him if he stole as much as -a morsel of dried beef, he would come back and curl himself -under the bench, and lie there upon the cold floor, -though he might have gone to the granaries and had his -fill of fat mice, and plenty of straw to lie on. Well, -Pedro, I am the black cat, and I will stay in Doña Isabel’s -house because it is my humor, and I cannot tell why, and -there is an end of it.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro sighed; but presently he said in his slow way, -“Well, well! God is God,—may he care for thee! -Pedro can be of no more use to thee; the guitar that -doesn’t accord with the voice is best hung upon the wall. -Farewell, Chinita; God grant thee so much good that -thou needst not remember thy old friends.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita laughed. “Thou art vexed, Pedro; but I love -thee, and I would love thee more if thou wouldst tell me -the name of my father or my mother.” Pedro shook his -head. “Oh, I am sure thou dost not know; thou couldst -not have kept a secret all these years!” She looked at -him sharply, but he was not the man to begin unwary defences, -which might to a keen eye expose the weakest -spots in his armor. He stood for some moments quite -silent. Chinita saw by the moonlight that his face had -lines upon it she had never seen before. Her conscience -smote her, yet she could not say she was sorry for the fate -which had parted them,—for it did not occur to her any -more than to him that he might question the act of Doña -Isabel, and refuse to yield the child he had sheltered from -its birth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What secret should the tool have?” he asked at length -bitterly. “It is taken up and laid by as the master wills. -Years ago I used to think I was a man, but since then I -have been but a dog to watch and to guard; but the watch -is over, and the dog may be a man again. That would -please you, would it not? There is better work than to -sit at a gate and see the soldiers come and go, and never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>hear so much as the echo of a shot; or as much as know -why there is a smell of blood always in the air, and men -are dragged away to death. Gonzales told me the struggle -is for liberty; I can do no more for you, and I will go -and see. Who knows what I may find beyond there? -Who knows what news I may bring to you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The face usually so stoical in its expression was lighted -as if by an inward fire. For the first time Chinita knew -that this man too had his ambitions, the stronger that they -had been repressed for years. Would he join the next -band of soldiers or bandits that came that way? The -thought struck her comically, like a touch of the mock -heroic; yet it thrilled her. She would have liked to be a -soldier herself. She would have chosen to be a boy to go -with him; and yet she was glad they were to part, if that -indeed was his meaning,—that her foster father would no -longer sit at the gate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>He had touched her hand and bent to kiss it humbly, -as he might have saluted Doña Isabel herself. Then he -thrust a long narrow package through the bars, muttered -softly, “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Adios</span></i>” and stole noiselessly away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Though Chinita saw him at his old place on the morrow, -she understood that an eternal farewell had been made to -their old relations and their old life. All that remained -of them was contained in the package of trinkets he had -brought her,—the coral beads, the few irregular pearls, -the many-hued reboso, and the ribbons she had prized and -which in his simplicity he had thought she would regret. -Indeed, she had recognized them with a thrill of delight; -nothing half so bright or costly had been offered her in -the new life she had imagined would be so rich and brilliant. -Yet she clung to it as hers of right, the more firmly -after turning over and over, again and again, the dainty -swaddling clothes, which she had never seen before, but -which she knew Pedro had yielded to her as the sole possessions -with which she had come to him,—possessions -useless in themselves, but invaluable to her as proofs that -she came from no plebeian stock. She wondered if her -mother had arrayed her in them to cast her out,—and -though she was of no gentle mould, her mind revolted -from the thought. Then, had her father disowned her; or -had an enemy filched her from her cradle, and unwilling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>to be guilty of her blood, left her in the first hands he -had encountered? She ran over in her mind all the tales -she had heard of mysterious disappearances,—and they -were not a few,—but none would fit the case; and surely -a hue-and-cry would have been made at the abduction of a -rich man’s infant.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita wrapped up the clothes and hid them away in -impatient despair. Once she thought of taking them to -Doña Isabel; but what would be gained by that? That -her protectress knew the secret of her birth she was convinced, -not by any course of reasoning, but by the simple -fact that she had assumed the charge of her as her right. -The girl did not know how baseless are apt to be the -caprices of a great lady.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The days passed wearily to the eager child. They -would have been intolerable—for she was always alone -or with Doña Isabel, who gave her no certain status as -equal or inferior, and with whom she was feverishly defiant, -or seized with sudden tremors of awe or actual fear—but -that she knew Don Rafael had gone to bring his family -home. She longed to pour her secret thoughts into the -ears of Chata, to show the infant clothes and hear her -comments and suggestions. It appeared to her that Chata -would certainly penetrate the gloom, and in her sweet simplicity -throw some light upon the mystery which enveloped -her. Besides, the wilful girl exulted in the anticipation -of dazzling the eyes of Rosario and Doña Rita by her -connection with Doña Isabel. She was shrewd enough -to see it had greatly increased her importance in the estimation -of the servants and employees. Even Don -Rafael, before he went away, had seized an opportunity -to ask her whether she was content, and afterward had -never failed to bow to her with grave politeness when -they met.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Once a strange thought had been set in the child’s mind: -it returned and vexed her again and again. Doña Feliz -had come into the room when in an unusual mood of devotion -Chinita had knelt to pray before the image of the -Virgin, before which, though she did not know it, had been -poured forth so many bitter cries. Feliz started as she -saw her, and Chinita rose to her feet.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Do not rise,” said Doña Feliz; “learn, child, to pray. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>Many amens must perforce reach Heaven; it is well to -begin thy task young.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What task?” Chinita queried. “I shall have something -more to do than to pray all my life. That is for saints and -nuns; and even Pedro would not take me for a saint.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But thou couldst still be a nun,” said Doña Feliz, with -a peculiar smile; “and why shouldst thou not be?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Why not?” ejaculated Chinita. “Because I will not!” -Then seized with a sudden terror, she cried, “Is that why -Doña Isabel has taken me from Pedro? Is it to shut me -up to pray for her and the wicked brother she loved so -much? Selsa told me she had set her own daughter to free -his soul from purgatory, and is not that enough? I’ll not -do it. My knees ache when I kneel; I yawn, I fall -asleep. I cannot bear to be forever in one place. It is to -go away, to see strange sights, to wear silk and lace every -day, as the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Herlinda must have done,—see, here are -some of her dresses still,—it is for this, and because I was -born for such things, that I stay with Doña Isabel; it is -not to pray. I care not to pray, nor sing hymns, nor -dress saints. I will go to her and tell her so!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz caught the arm of the excited child. “I am -your friend,” she said. “Speak not a word of what I have -said. Perhaps it was a foolish thought; but many more -beautiful than you have entered convents, and perhaps -have been happy.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Is the Señorita Herlinda happy?” asked Chinita, her -excitement calmed by the thought of another. “Selsa told -me once,—it was the night Antonita saw the ghost of the -American, when she came back from the mountain,—Selsa -told me a witch had laid a spell upon her the day he was -murdered,—a witch who loved the foreigner; and that -the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Herlinda drooped and withered and would have -died, but that a fever carried away the evil woman before -she could read her into her grave.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The witch!” ejaculated Doña Feliz, mystified. This -was a superstition of which she had heard nothing. “Who -was the witch?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“How can I tell?” answered Chinita. “Chata knows -more of her than I. It is to her old Selsa told her tales; -she is never cross to Chata. But after the American was -killed I know the witch used to read and read and read -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>strange words to the poor <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>, and she grew paler and -paler, and more and more sad.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And the witch died?” queried Feliz, thinking of -Mademoiselle La Croix.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, in a good hour,” answered Chinita, energetically. -“But I forgot; you must know it all, Doña Feliz. Tell -me,”—with her old gossiping habit,—“tell me, did the -Señorita love the American? Was it for him she pined -away; or because she was bewitched; or was it because -the Señora would not let her marry the Señor Gonzales, -but would send her to the convent to pray for the wicked -Don Leon?“</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Quien sabe?</span></i> Who knows?” answered Doña Feliz, -in the non-committal phrase a Mexican finds so convenient. -“It is not for us to chatter of the Señorita Herlinda. -Peace be with her! and have a care how you mention -her name to Doña Isabel.” Her brow contracted as she -thought how many conjectures, how much gossip of which -she had known nothing, had been busy with events she -had believed quite passed from remembrance.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXVI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Ashley Ward had been, an involuntary though perhaps -not entirely an unwilling guest, at Tres Hermanos a month -or more before it dawned upon him that he was not a perfectly -welcome one. Throughout his illness, which had -been prolonged by the peculiar nursing and diet to which -he had been for the first time in his life subjected, he had, -though left almost entirely to the care of Selsa, been provided -with luxuries and delicacies that even his imperfect -knowledge of the country and situation enabled him to -know were rare and costly, and most difficult to obtain. -Doña Isabel Garcia was like a princess in her quiet dignity -and in her gifts; and like a princess too, he grew to think, -in the punctiliousness with which, every day, she sent to -inquire after his health, and the infrequency with which she -entered to express a hope that he lacked nothing. She -never touched his hand, seldom indeed turned her eyes upon -him when she spoke, and never smiled; and when she left -him he inwardly raged, and vowed he would leave the hacienda -on the morrow, even though he should die from the -exertion. But his wound was slow in healing; the fever -had sapped his strength; he was alone, and no opportunity -of securing escort presented itself. He was virtually a -prisoner. And besides, after these periods of vexation he -would fall into a fit of musing, which would end in the resolve -never to leave Tres Hermanos until certain doubts -were set at rest, which from day to day grew more and -more perplexing.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The nurse, Selsa, was more communicative than the Indian -peasant woman is apt to be. She had been employed -constantly in and about the great house in positions of -some trust, and had lost that awe of superiors, which held -the mere common people dumb. In a sense, indeed, she -felt herself one of the family, privileged to use gentle insistence -with the sick, even against their aristocratic wills, -and to be present, though eyes and ears were to be as blind -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>and deaf as the walls around her, while matters of family -polity were at least hinted at, if not openly discussed. She -had in fact been to the house of Garcia “the confidential -servant,” without which no Mexican household is complete,—one -of those peculiar beings who however false, -cruel, deceitful, and thievish with the world in general is -silent as the grave, devoted even unto death, true as the -lode-star, to the person or family which she serves.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was something in the personality of this wrinkled -crone, growing out of these relations, which early impressed -the young American; and gradually he grew to feel that -he was face to face with an oracle, had he but the magic -to unseal her lips, as the witch-like Chinita had had to -change her air of vexed though friendly equality into unobtrusive -yet unmistakable deference. Other servants who -came and went spoke with some envy and spite of the sudden -elevation of the gatekeeper’s foster-child. But Selsa, -sitting in the doorway of the sick man’s room, combing -out her long black locks,—for that, though she never succeeded -in smoothing them, was her favorite occupation,—would -glance askance at Ward and say,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Be silent! the Señora knows what she does. Go -now! she has a heart like any other Christian. What was -to become of the girl, now that Pedro will be leaving for -the wars? Would you have Don ’Guardo think we are -barbarians here, who would leave the innocents to be devoured -like lambs by the coyotes?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don ’Guardo was the name Selsa had evolved from -Ward, which she had perhaps believed to be the foreign -contraction of Eduardo; and as Ashley, with boyish enthusiasm -easily acquiring the limited vocabulary of those -around him, began to relieve the monotony of his convalescence -by listening to their conversations, and asking some -idle questions, he found himself answering to the convenient -appellation and alluding to himself by it, until it became -as familiar to his ears as his own baptismal name, -and certainly conveyed far more friendliness to him than -the formal Señor Ward, which Don Rafael and his mother -rendered with infinite stumbling over the unattainable W.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was a subdued excitement throughout the hacienda -upon the day that Don ’Guardo first appeared at the great -gateway. Pedro was sitting there in the dull, dejected -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>manner suggestive of loss, or waiting, or both; and it was -only when Florencia, with an exclamation, twitched his -sleeve that he looked up.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Maria Sanctissima!</span></i>” he stammered, staggering to his -feet. Ashley stood in the dim light in the rear of the deep -vestibule, with his hand on Pepé’s shoulder,—for the boy -had been called to attend him,—but with a sudden faintness -he had paused to rest against the stone wall hung with -serpents. Ashley was a handsome youth, but in Pedro’s -eyes a thousand times more startling than the most hideous -snake or savage beast. So had he seen John Ashley stand -a hundred times or more, not pale and trembling, but full -of life and joy. Was this his sad ghost, come with reproachful -eyes to haunt him?</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is the Señor American,” said Florencia. “My life! -how pale he looks! Go, go, Pepito! bring him hither -before the carriage of my Señora drives in; here it is at -the very gate.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro instantly recovered his usual stoicism. “Wait, -Señor!” he said, “you are well placed where you are. -The carriage can pass and not throw an atom of dust on -you.” And at that moment the feet of the horses and the -rattle of wheels were heard on the stone paving, and the -hacienda carriage was driven rapidly into the courtyard. -As it passed, Ashley caught a glimpse of Doña Isabel—how -pale and statuesque!—and beside her a creature -radiant in triumph, who nodded to Pedro as she passed; -her smile seeming to say, “Behold me!” Hers was not -an ignoble pride, but the wild exultation of an eaglet that -had been chained to earth, and for the first time had tried -its wings in the empyrean. That morning Doña Isabel -had said, “Chinita, thou shalt go with me;” and though -the lady’s brows had risen a little when with unconscious -audacity the girl had taken the seat beside her, and not -that opposite, where Doña Feliz was wont to sit, she said -nothing. “The child is pale,” she thought, “and needs -the air; there is no one to heed that she sits beside me.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>It would be hard to tell what were the thoughts of Chinita; -they were a sudden delirium after the intense quiet of -the semi-imprisonment, which she had borne with stoical -fortitude for the sake of a dimly seen future of power. In -this enforced quiet, day by day, her ambitions were shaping -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>themselves; the dominant passion of her being was seeking -a point from which she might have advantage over all -the narrow field within the range of her mental vision. -As yet her aspirations knew no name; they were mere -vague, impatient longings, or rather impatient spurning of -the old ignoble conditions of life. To ride in a carriage -was an intoxication to her, because the low-born peasant -went afoot. She chafed in a very thraldom of inaction -because the high-born toiled not. She loved the rustle of -a gaudy silk, while her hand shrank from the contact of -the stiff and rustling fabric, because such attire was only -for the rich and great. As undefined as had been the joy -with which she had heard she was a Garcia, was still the -delight of each fresh conquest that she made. No eager -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">virtuoso</span></i> groping in the dark among undescribed treasures -could be more ignorant yet more wildly anticipative of the -glories the daylight should discover than she of what the -future should reveal.</p> - -<p class='c001'>From where Don ’Guardo and his attendant stood, they -could see Doña Isabel and Chinita as they descended from -the carriage. Doña Isabel, without glancing around, ascended -the stairs to her own apartment. Chinita followed -a step or two behind, then turned and paused. Her quick -eye scanned the little group that had gathered in the court. -Ashley Ward himself was startled by the change that had -passed over her since he had seen her last. What had -been elfish in her wild abandonment of bearing had become -a subtle grace of manner, which gave piquancy to a -hauteur that counterfeited the dignity of inherent nobleness. -“The gypsy has borrowed the air of a queen!” -was the thought of the American. He felt Pepé quiver -beneath his hand, and looking at him saw a sullen fire -in his dark, slumberous eyes, though his lips were white -and his dusky face ashen as if a chill had seized him. -The girl had overlooked him and all the plebeian crowd, -and her eyes rested in a triumphant challenge on Ashley. -She smiled, and a ray of sunlight darted down and reddened -the crisp and straggling tendrils of her hair. The -smile or the sunlight dazzled him; he leaned heavier on -Pepé’s shoulder. She reminded him of a Medusa idealized, -of incarnate passion surrounded by the halo of -radiant youth.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>Ashley was roused by a sudden movement of Pepé, who -had for the moment forgotten his station, and impetuously -thrown himself upon a bench in an attitude of impotent -grief and rage; then he sprang to his feet, and again placed -his shoulder under Ashley’s hand. Once more he was the -mere stock and stick; but Ashley had discovered in him -the soul and heart of a man.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Poor fool!” he thought, with a sort of anger mingled -with his pity; “here is a touch of the tragic in this little -comedy, which the wily little peasant is inspired to play -so daintily. She appears to have bewitched me with the -rest; I can’t keep the thought of her, or rather of her -words, out of my head,—and yet I have only a word to -build a whole fabric of theory upon.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>These thoughts had passed through his mind in an instant,—the -instant in which Chinita had lightly run up -the stone steps after Doña Isabel, and in which Ashley -and Pepé had reached the broad gateway of the hacienda. -Ashley sank upon the stone bench where Pedro was wont -to sit, and Pepé leaned sullenly against the rough wall. -Both looked in silence over the village, across the fields, -the narrow line of cottonwood trees and yellow mud -which marked the bed of a torrent in the rainy season and -a waste of desolation in the long drought, and onward -still to the gray and barren mountains whose distant peaks -of purple pierced the deep blue of the cloudless sky. The -scene to Pepé was as old as his years, too familiar to distract -for a moment his tortured mind; but Ashley beheld -it in a sort of rapture. Perhaps any glimpse of the outer -world would have charmed him after his unwonted imprisonment; -but the fertility of the valley, this gem set in -the broad expanse of bare and sterile Mexico, was a revelation -to him of that wonderful productiveness and beauty -which in his journeyings he had often heard of but had -never encountered, until at last he had believed that the -horrors of war, in its years of duration, had swept over -the land and blasted it. But here was one spot at least -that had escaped,—such a spot as he had pictured for -months, and sought in vain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For a time he gazed upon it in simple admiration, then -at first almost unconsciously began to look about him for -certain landmarks. Yes, here at his back was the great -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>pile of buildings; here on the sandy slope in front, the -village of adobe thatched with knife-grass; there along -the line of the watercourse, the few straggling huts of the -miners and laborers; there away to the right, the low walls -of the reduction-works with its tall brick chimney, and in -its rear the gaping cleft of the mountain which marked the -entrance to the mine. All now was silent and deserted; -yet for a moment he seemed to look upon it with other -eyes, and to see the trains of laden mules filing in and out -of the wide gateways, and to trace the black smoke rising -in a column to the cloudless sky. “This must be the -place!” he inwardly exclaimed; and drawing from his -breast-pocket a flat case of papers, he selected from them -a torn and yellow letter, and read it slowly over, ever and -anon raising his eyes to identify some point in the description, -which a hand as young, more firm, more resolute -than his own, had in an hour of leisure so accurately -written years before. The date of the missive was gone, -and with it the name of this new place in which the writer -seemed to have found an earthly paradise,—“not wanting,” -as he said at the close of the letter, “an Eve to be at -once the gem of this perfect setting, and the inaccessible -star to which poor mortals may raise longing eyes, but -may never hope to win.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley smiled as he read the words. Who could this -divinity have been? But for other letters that had been -put into his hands he would have thought the paragraph -mere bathos, boyish gush, and sentiment; but it was a -prelude to what might prove a strange and fateful series -of events. Somewhere here his cousin had years ago lived -and loved and been done to death; and his mission was -to trace the sequence of these events, and to learn -whether or no with John Ashley had passed away all -possible influence upon the fortunes of his own life.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Until within a few months such questions had never -occurred to him. The John Ashley whom he had dimly -remembered had been murdered years before; and so had -ended an adventurous career, which had been his own -choice, or perhaps his evil destiny. To Ward, as to others, -that had been the sum and substance of the tragedy -which had thrown a gloom for a time over all the family, -and had stricken a proud mother to the heart. She had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>suffered years in silence, the name of her wayward son -never passing her lips; her young daughter had grown up -with no knowledge of her brother but his name. It was -she who after the mother’s death had found these letters, -and entreated her cousin to seek the fatal spot of John -Ashley’s death,—surely there must be somewhere records -that would give the exact location,—and to make inquiries -for the wife, and for the possible child, of whom he wrote in -his last short letter, full of passionate appeal to his mother -in behalf of the young creature who for him had forfeited -the confidence, perhaps the love, of her own. “Herlinda! -Herlinda! Herlinda!” was the burden of the letter. “The -name rings in my ears,” Mary Ashley had said. “How -could my mother have been deaf to it? She thought -of those people as barbarous, false, cruel, treacherous. -But what matters that to me, if there is among them one -who has my brother’s blood, or one who loved him?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The marriage laws of those countries are strange,” -Ward had ventured to say. “Perhaps your mother -feared complications which could but bring disgrace and -misery.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I do not fear them,” said Mary Ashley, proudly. “It -is a wild country for a woman to go to, but if you will not -investigate this matter, I will brave any inconvenience, -any danger, to do so. I cannot live with this tantalizing -fear in my heart.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The idea that tormented Mary seemed at best that of a -mere possibility to Ashley,—the possibility of an event -which, as the mother had seen, might if proved bring far -more pain than joy, especially at this late date; yet it -worked upon his mind gradually, as it had upon Mary’s -suddenly,—perhaps the more surely because he personally -profited by the supposition that his cousin had died unwed. -By his aunt’s will he had been left the share in her property -that John would have inherited, on condition that -neither he nor any legitimate heir should appear to claim it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>People shrugged their shoulders and smiled pityingly. -“Poor soul, had she then doubted her son’s death?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The news had reached Mrs. Ashley in an irregular way; -the war had supervened, and particulars had been few and -far from exact. But later, through some business house, -inquiries had been made and some few books and almost -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>worthless articles of clothing had been obtained from an -alcalde, who swore they had been the dead man’s sole -effects. Certainly the proofs had been irregular but sufficient. -What could one expect from such a lawless set of -uncivilized renegades, who knew nothing of civil or international -law, and were bent on the sole task of exterminating -one another? They smiled at the condition in the -will, and pitied the poor woman who could thus hope -against hope. Ashley Ward himself, the orphan nephew -whom his aunt had loved with a jealous devotion, which at -times wearied him by its suspicions and exactions, at first -smiled also. But when Mary brought to him the fragments -of three old letters to read, just as his mind was -filled with plans for a career which the possession of -ample wealth and leisure seemed to justify, and which in -poverty he could never have dared aspire to, he grew -thoughtful, moody at times,—then suddenly his own -impetuous, generous self again.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will go to Mexico, Mary,” he said, “and bring you -word of your brother’s life there. No doubts shall shake -their spectre fingers at me in my prosperity, nor torment -your loving and anxious soul.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Good, true cousin!” was all she answered. She perhaps -did not realize what effect upon the prospects of -Ashley the results of this journey might possibly have; -they dawned upon her little by little as the days went by -and no news came of him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The daring traveller had been obliged to enter Mexico -at some obscure point. The Liberal government under -Juarez was installed at Vera Cruz; the Conservatives held -the City of Mexico; and the length and breadth of the -country was in a state of riot and ferment, torn and -devastated by roving bands who changed their politics as -readily as their encampments. Ashley’s journey through -the Republic was like a passage over smouldering coals -between two fires, and constant address and fearlessness -were required to avoid collision with either faction,—his -ignorance of the language and causes of contention perhaps -serving him a good turn in making natural the indifference -and absolute impartiality which he could never -so successfully have assumed had his sympathies been -ever so slightly biassed.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>In the distracted state of the country it was almost a -hopeless task to endeavor to trace the movements of an -alien who had lived in it but a short time, and that years -before. If any record had been made of the exact place -and mode of John Ashley’s death, it certainly had been -unofficial, and retained no place in the archives of either -the Mexican or American government.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley Ward was at first appalled by the unexpected -difficulties that he encountered. Inquiries brought to his -knowledge the existence of several haciendas bearing the -name of Los Tres Hermanos; and these he successively -visited, reserving to the last that which lay in the most -isolated and mountain-begirt district,—a point which it -seemed impossible could, amid wild and sterile surroundings, -offer the panorama of beauty and fertility which the -pen of his cousin had described. He would perhaps have -abandoned his search, at least for that unpropitious time, -but for a re-perusal of the first letter which contained -neither news nor descriptions of importance, but in which -was mentioned the fact that the writer had been offered -employment by the family of Garcia. The owners of the -distant hacienda of Tres Hermanos, Ashley Ward discovered, -were called Garcia,—a name too common, however, -to be any proof of identity, yet which seemed to -make it worth his while to spend another month or more -of precious time in the search, which in another country, -with records of average exactness, would perhaps have -been performed in one or two days.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The trip had been made as quickly as the excessively -bad state of the roads at the rainy season would allow, -and with but few divergences and delays; and the boundaries -of the estate had been already passed when the young -American and his servant were, in a merry rather than a -savage humor, detained or rather actually captured by the -redoubtable Calvo, who to amuse the leisure that hung -rather heavily upon his hands invited the young American -to ride in his company. In his broken but expressive -English, the freebooter uttered such courteous phrases -that the young man was quite unconscious that he was in -fact a prisoner, and passed a not uninteresting day in -exchanging political opinions, local and international, with -the dashing chieftain,—who, while apparently absorbed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>in the novelty and pleasure of listening to the conversation -of his involuntary guest, was mentally preparing the -speech in which he should convey to him on the morrow -the terms of ransom for himself and servant,—a likely -fellow whom Calvo had more than half a mind to add to -the number of his followers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the servant himself had no illusions as to the glory -of fighting or the chances of booty, and sometime during -the night in which they were encamped at the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">ranchito</span></i> of -El Refugio managed to elude the lax watchfulness of -the troop, who had made a merry meal on freshly killed -lambs and such other modest viands as Doña Isabel Garcia’s -trembling shepherds could furnish, and without so -much as a word of warning to the American had escaped,—bearing -with him the small bag of necessaries of which -he had charge, a pair of silver-mounted pistols, and a sum -of money which Ward had been assured would in case of -attack and capture be more secure in the possession of -this “loyal and honest man” than in his own.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley had barely had time to realize the defection -of his servant, to suspect his actual position as a prisoner -in the hands of the courteous but mercenary and -implacable Calvo, and wrathfully to regret the ignorant -trustfulness with which he had divided with the much -lauded servant the risk of transporting his funds, retaining -in his own hands perhaps not enough to meet the rapacious -demands of his captors, when suddenly his meditations -were interrupted by cries of confusion, shouts, the -crack of rifles, the whizzing of balls, challenges and defiant -yells, the shrieks of women, and the groans and appeals of -the helpless shepherds,—followed by the sight of huts -ablaze, of frightened flocks wildly bleating and rushing -blindly under the very feet of the horses, which trampled -them down, while their keepers, as bewildered as they, fell -victims to the mad zeal and excitement of the opposing -troops who had so unexpectedly met on that isolated -spot.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was conjectured that the missing servant had in his -flight to the mountains accidentally come upon the soldiers -of the Clergy, and to turn attention from himself had betrayed -the proximity of the Liberals. A hurried march in -the early morning hours had proved the truth of the servant’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>information; and the surprise and some advantage -in numbers—for the Captain Alva had spoken with a trace -of the usual exaggeration of the speech of his countrymen, -in describing the enemy as numbering three hundred—turned -the chances in favor of the attacking party; although -Calvo at first seemed inclined to contest the matter -obstinately, and Ward, with an involuntary feeling of -fealty to his host (though he had already some inkling of -his intentions in regard to himself) had ranged himself -upon his side. He soon saw with indignation, however, -that the defence of the poor villagers held no part in -Calvo’s thoughts. To frustrate some movement of the -enemy, he actually ordered the firing of a hut in which -women and children had taken refuge; and it was while -defending the humble spot from Puro and Mocho alike, -that Ward received the wound which disabled him,—that -covered with blows from muskets and swords he -fell, and trampled beneath the feet of the now flying and -pursuing soldiers, for a few horrible moments believed -himself doomed to die in a senseless mêlée, in which his -only interest had been to protect the weak, but in which -he recognized no inherent principle of right. Later he -saw in those apparently senseless broils the throes and -struggles of an undisciplined and purblind nation toward -the attainment of a dimly seen ideal of justice and freedom, -and learned the truth that these people, who seemed -so lightly swayed by the mere love of adventure, held -within their breasts the divine spark that distinguishes -man from the brute,—the deathless fire of patriotism. -They too could suffer, bear imprisonment, famine, even -death, for freedom.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But these were none of Ashley Ward’s reflections as he -found himself laid apart from three or four dead men, who -had been hurriedly thrown together for burial, and after -being subjected to a hasty examination—which resulted -in the abstraction of his remaining funds, his watch and -other valuables, and the binding up of his wound—lifted -to the back of a raw-boned troop-horse, and forced to join -the march of the triumphant guerillas. He would have -preferred to be left to the care of the houseless and destitute -shepherds; but Captain Alva, whether with the hope -of some ultimate benefit from the capture of the foreigner -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>or not it is impossible to tell, professed himself horrified at -the barbarity of deserting him,—and, as we have seen -later, in apprehension of his death from exposure to the -sun, and the fever that seized him, availed himself of -the opportunity of evading the responsibility of the death -of an American upon his hands, by delivering him to the -care of Doña Isabel Garcia.</p> - -<p class='c001'>And so, still weak, and destitute of money until he -could arrange for a supply from the City of Mexico, but -full of hope, confident that he had reached his goal, and -that a few discreet inquiries would give him the information -he sought, and perhaps allay forever the doubts that -tormented his sensitive conscience, Ashley Ward drew a -deep breath of satisfaction as he sat at the hacienda gate; -and in an animated mood, which supplemented his insufficient -Spanish, addressed himself to the reticent and -gloomy Pedro, startling him from his usual stoicism by -the exclamation, “And you, my man, can you tell me of -the American your foster-child spoke of? There is not so -much happens here that you can have forgotten.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Had Ashley known anything of the instincts and customs -of the genuine ranchero, he would have begun his -investigations in a far more guarded manner. That a certain -Don Juan had met a bloody death there years before, -he already knew; that this had been his cousin, he surmised; -that the gatekeeper should know more of the domestic -life of an employee of the hacienda than the owner -herself, or even the administrador, was a natural conclusion. -But had Ashley Ward wished to seal the lips of the -suspicious and astute gatekeeper, he could not have chosen -a more effective manner of accomplishing it. As well -touch the horns of a snail and expect that it would not -withdraw into its shell, as to question this man directly -and hope to learn aught of value.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro looked at the inquirer from under the shadow of -his bushy eyebrows and wide hat; and though his heart -bounded, his face became a very mask of rustic stupidity -as he answered, “Your grace has had much fever with -your wound. Heaven and all the saints be thanked that -you are young and healthy, and will soon be as strong as -ever.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Um!” ejaculated Ward, for the moment disconcerted. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>“Yes, I have had fever, but that has nothing to do with -the American. He was a living man fourteen or fifteen -years ago, if there be any truth in what your—young -mistress told me.” He hesitated how to designate the -girl, whose status and relations seemed so strangely -undefined.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro’s eyes for a moment lightened. Pepé laughed -ironically, yet he would have turned like a wild beast on -another who had done so.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Who speaks much, speaks to his undoing,” quoth -Pedro, gruffly, and turned away; yet he eyed the young -American furtively, with an inborn hostility to his race, -an unreasoning belief that in the guise of such fair tempters -lurked the demon who would destroy unwary damsels -body and soul, yet with an almost irresistible desire -to unburden his soul of the weight that had so long -oppressed it, to cry aloud, “I can tell you all you would -know,—how the American lived, how he died, how the -child he never saw lives after him. Is it her you seek? -And why?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro clenched his hands with a gasp. He remembered -that the natural instincts of kindred had changed to bitterness -against Herlinda’s child. She had been cast out, disowned, -deserted. Who was this stranger, this foreigner, -that he should be more just, more generous, toward the -doubtful offspring of one who had died years before? How -should he even guess such a child to be in existence? -No, he could not guess it. What a mad thought had -darted through his own brain! Pedro actually laughed -at his own perplexed imaginings. What! the secret of -Herlinda, which had been kept so inscrutably, in danger -from this idle news-seeker? Preposterous! yet an odd -conceit entered the gatekeeper’s mind: “The blind man -dreamed that he saw, and dreamed what he desired.” -This groping youth had come far to inquire into the fate -of a man long dead,—it must be because it would bring -him profit, for it did not for a moment occur to Pedro -that the questions asked were from mere idle curiosity,—and -would it be possible anything should escape him? -“Well, what God wills, the saints themselves cannot -hinder.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro sat down upon the stone bench opposite, in an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>affectation of sullen obstinacy. Ashley was weary and -chagrined, and in silence looked over the landscape with -an increasing sense of recognition. Pepé stood in the -same lounging attitude, patiently waiting. One might -have thought him carved of wood against the stone wall, -yet of the three men he it was whose passions were fiercest, -whose thoughts like unbridled coursers followed one another -in mad confusion. His mind was full of Chinita! -Chinita! Chinita! her beauty, her insolent grace,—the -memory of her pretty, haughty ways when she had been -but a barefoot, ragged peasant like himself, and the contemplation -of the hopeless height to which she had risen. -Never before had he been conscious that he had aspired. -Now, bruised, torn, wounded as if by a fall into hopeless -depths, he saw her image swimming before his disordered -vision; he thought of her as a princess, a goddess, yet -he laughed when he heard her named as mistress.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Such was the mood in which Pepé presently listened to -the disconnected dialogue between Pedro and the guest, -who was hampered by a language strange to him, and by -suspicious caution on the part of the gatekeeper. For the -first time in his life, Pepé was struck by a peculiarity in -Pedro with which he had always been acquainted; namely, -his unwillingness to speak of the tragedy, which to other -minds had seemed no more horrible than scores of others -that had occurred in the neighborhood and were common -subjects of conversation. As he listened, Pepé became -conscious that Pedro was detracting from the interest of -the tale rather than adding to it; and when the young -American at last said inquiringly, “And the cause of this -murder was never known? There was no woman—” he -was startled that Pedro answered not with the old jest, -“Was there ever an evil but that a woman was at the root -of it?” but rose and strode rapidly away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There <em>was</em> a woman,” muttered Ward, looking after -him, “and the gatekeeper knew her. I have found the -man who can tell me of Herlinda.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He spoke in English, but Pepé the eager listener caught -the name “Herlinda.” Five minutes later, when Ward -turned to speak to the youth, he found him with his hands -clasped, stretched out before him, his eyes staring into -vacancy.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>“Idiot!” was the half contemptuous, half pitying comment -of the American. Little guessed he that the conversation -that had seemed to result in so little to him had -offered both a suggestion and an inspiration to the peasant,—the -very key to the problem which he had himself come -so far and dared so much to solve.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXVII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Upon the following day, Ashley Ward went again to -the gateway,—not merely to breathe the fresh air and enjoy -the view, but irresistibly attracted by the remembrance -of the taciturn warder. The more he reflected upon the -emotion the man had shown when his eyes first rested upon -him, a stranger, as he had entered the vestibule; the more -he thought upon the guarded replies to the questions he -had asked concerning the young American who had been -there years before,—the more convinced he became that -there had been a mystery which had led to his kinsman’s -death, and that Pedro, if he would, could divulge it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Was it possible the man himself was the assassin? The -perplexed youth began to sound Pepé cautiously as to the -reputation Pedro had borne. But the young fellow was -absorbed in other matters, of which Ashley rightly conjectured -Chinita was the vital point, and was wandering and -curt in his answers. Yet he seemed to feel that Ashley -divined, if he did not comprehend, his pain, and so attached -himself to him and followed him about, much as -might a wounded dog some stranger who had spoken to -him with an accent of pity in his voice.</p> - -<p class='c001'>So when Ashley went to the gateway, it was Pepé’s -arm that aided him, though with the impatience of a -young man he protested against this need of a crutch, -and had actually walked steadily enough across the court, -under the gaze of Doña Feliz and Chinita, who happened -to be in the window; but he had been glad to clutch at -Pepé as they entered the vestibule. The lad was not -trembling then, but erect and flushed: Chinita had smiled -upon him as he passed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro was standing in the gateway, shading his eyes -with his hand, and gazing toward the cañon which -opened behind the reduction-works. He did not notice -Ashley and Pepé, but presently began to mutter: “Yes, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>it is they. Don Rafael has had a lucky journey. Go -thou, Chinita, and tell Doña Feliz the master and her -daughter-in-law and children will be here for the noon -dinner.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé laughed derisively. “You forget, Pedro,” he -said; “it is the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Chinita, and the Señorita Chinita -now; even if she heard, she is scarce likely to run at -your bidding. But are you sure the Señor Administrador -comes there? If so, I will myself go and tell them.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Go then, go!” cried Pedro, impatiently. “I am not -blind, though old usage sometimes misleads me, and I talk -like a dotard. Yes, yes. There comes the carriage down -the cañon, and Don Rafael himself on his gray, and Gabriel -and Panchito; I can almost distinguish their very -faces.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>So could Ashley, for the air was brilliantly clear, and -the travellers had yielded to the inspiring influences natural -at the sight of home, and allowed their horses to break -into a mad pace, far different from the methodic gait of -ordinary travel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé, in spite of repressed excitement, had gone at his -usual lounging and listless pace to inform Doña Feliz of -the approach of her son, and a little group of villagers -had assembled around Pedro, when a lithe, active -young figure brushed by them and leaped upon the -stone bench at Ashley’s side. He glanced up, and to his -surprise saw Chinita, her hair flying, her eyes bright with -anticipation. Putting her finger upon her lip as he was -about to speak, as if to enjoin silence, she pressed herself -close to the wall. There was a long narrow niche -where she stood, and it received almost her entire figure. -No one but Ashley and Pepé, who came with haste -behind her, had noticed her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hush! hush!” she whispered. “Chata will look for -me here,—here where I used to stand. Ay, Pepé, you -were a good lad to warn me in time, so I could slip away. -Doña Isabel will never miss me,—she is at her prayers; -and Doña Feliz is wild with joy that her son comes home -again.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The excited girl had spoken in the softest of voices, -yet Pedro heard her. But the rest of the gathering -crowd were craning their necks and straining their eyes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>in the direction in which the approaching travellers were -to be seen.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé looked up at the ardent and gypsy-like young creature, -as though she were a saint, and Ashley with a glance -of genuine admiration and sympathy. He knew not whom -she was thus eager to welcome, but it thrilled and surprised -him that she should manifest such lively affection. -Both the young men instinctively drew near as if to -shield her, and stood one on either side, almost hiding her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That is right; but you will stand away and let her -see me when the carriage drives by,” she whispered, -placing a hand on Pepé’s shoulder. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Dios mio</span></i>, how my -heart beats! She will cry with joy when she sees me, -with silk skirts and all so fine. And Doña Rita and -the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Rosario,—how they will open wide their eyes!” -And she broke into a low laugh, which to Ashley’s ears -was too full of a sort of malicious triumph to be merry.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The time of waiting seemed long; it was indeed far -longer than Chinita had counted upon. “They will miss -me from the house; they will look for me here!” she -whispered again and again in an agony of impatience.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Strangely enough, the adults of the gaping throng, who -were intent on watching the approach of the travellers, -had not noticed her; but three or four children arrayed -themselves in a wondering row, pointing their fingers at -her with ejaculations of “Look! look!” but were checked -from uttering more by Pepé’s warning frowns and Chinita’s -own imploring gestures.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley was beginning to realize that there must be -much that was absurd in the scene. Surely, never was -so strange a background made for a group of gossiping -peasants as this of the eager-eyed and beautiful girl, -leaning from her niche in the massive stone-wall between -the two young men—the one the type of aristocratic -refinement and delicacy; the other of swarthy, ignorant, -half-tamed savagery—who served as caryatids, upon -whom she leaned alternately in her excitement, seeming -herself to partake of the nature of each.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The carriage with its group of outriders now rapidly approached. -“Ah! ah!” exclaimed Chinita, “the horses -are plunging at the tree where the American was murdered. -They say the creatures can always see him there, Señor. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>Ah, now they have passed; they come gayly, they come -straight. It is not only the Señor Administrador and the -servants, there are strangers too. I am glad! I am -happy! I love to see new faces!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Be silent!” whispered Pepé, hurriedly; “all the -world will hear if you sing so loud. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Carrhi!</span></i> the soldier -sees you!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was true; though the villagers had been too intent upon -welcoming the new-comers to heed Chinita, and the carriage -flashed by so rapidly the inmates could have caught -but a glimpse of color against the cold gray wall, a stranger -in a travel-stained uniform started as his eyes fell upon -her, and checked his horse so suddenly that it reared.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The Virgin of our native land!” he muttered in a sort -of patriotic and admiring wonder. “Ah, what a beautiful -creature!” he added, as the girl he had for a moment -classed as a saint sprang from her niche to the bench and -thence to the ground, and darted through the crowd to the -inner court,—where by this time the carriage had stopped -and its inmates were descending.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley sank upon the bench with a sudden access of -weariness. Pedro, oblivious of his vicinity, crouched rather -than sat beside him. The gatekeeper’s nerves doubtless -were weak. The carriage that had driven into the court -was the same in which Herlinda Garcia had departed years -before; as it dashed by him he could have sworn he saw -her face framed in the window. He had seen, as had -Chinita, the sad and gentle countenance of Chata. Grief -reveals strange likenesses.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When Chinita reached the carriage door, she found it -blocked by the descending travellers and those who welcomed -them. Doña Rita was so slow in carefully placing -her feet from step to step, and paused so often to answer -salutations, that there was ample time for the young officer -to reach the spot and extend a hand to Rosario who -followed her. Her blushes and coy smiles; the air with -which she drew back and with which, with a little shriek, -she pulled her dress over her tiny foot lest it might be -seen; the soft glances which she threw from beneath her -long lashes,—formed a pretty piece of by-play, quite intelligible -to all beholders, but for that time certainly quite -thrown away upon the stranger.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>Ten minutes before, to have held for a few brief minutes -the tips of Rosario’s fingers would have been to him -ecstasy. Now he was scarcely conscious that they were -within his own, and his eyes were fixed upon Chinita as -she stood breathlessly waiting for Chata. Never in his -life, he thought, had he seen such a face. The changeable -yet ever radiant expression was like the dazzle of warm -sunshine through scented leaves; the shimmer of rebellious -hair was a divine halo, though the sparkle of the dusky -eyes declared a daring soul more fit for earthly adventure -than ethereal joys.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Rosario’s eyes followed his gaze. She had heard the -strange tale of Doña Isabel’s intervention in the fate of -the waif. She had wondered whether the high-born lady -could have seen anything in the girl’s face that attracted -her; and that moment more decidedly than ever she answered -“No,” yet realized that here was a face to bewitch -men. She tossed her head and passed on. Doña -Feliz stopped her to embrace her, and meanwhile the two -early playmates met.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Life of my soul!” cried Chinita. “How I have -longed for you! Did you not see me perched in the -niche of the wall? Ay, how Doña Isabel would frown -if she knew!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I saw only the tall, fair man,” answered Chata in a -low voice. She was pale and trembled: “I thought first -it was the ghost of the American. Oh God, what a -shock!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita laughed merrily. “What! a coward still, and -with the old stories we used to tell still first in your mind? -Ah, I have tales to tell now will be worth your hearing.” -She bent low and added in a whisper, “Have they not -told you? I have the place of the Señorita Herlinda -now! I have her room. I think sometimes she must -be dead, and I have risen in her stead. Do I look like -a ghost, Chata?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hush, hush!” entreated Chata. “Oh Chinita, I wish -I never had gone away. Oh, how shall I live now? How -can I bear it?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>At that moment Doña Feliz approached, and evading -her proffered embrace the young girl bent her head on -the arm of the woman and burst into tears. Chinita stood -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>confounded; the light and joyousness died out of her face; -a certain half-savage look of inquiry came over it. She -turned abruptly to the young officer,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What have they done to her?” she demanded.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chinita,” said a cold, impassive voice, “this gentleman -is a stranger to you. It is not seemly that you stand -here questioning him;” and with an imperious wave of -her hand, Doña Isabel seemed actually to force the two -apart.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Almost unconsciously the young man drew back, bowing -low, and Chinita turned to the staircase; yet as she -obeyed the movement of Doña Isabel’s hand a furious -rage possessed her. As she stepped upon the first stair, -some demon prompted her to wind her arm around Chata’s -neck and raise her tear-stained face.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I am going to the Señorita Herlinda’s room,” she -said. “I am there in her place; and—” here she stopped, -laughed, and threw a glance over her shoulder—“there is -the American!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Her last words had been prompted by a glimpse of -Ashley Ward as he crossed the court. He caught the -appellation, and bowed and smiled. Chinita ran up the -stairs, and Doña Isabel stood rigid with a face like death. -Her eyes were resting however on Chata’s countenance.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young girl had shrunk within Doña Feliz’s protecting -arm. Had Doña Isabel turned her eyes upon the -woman’s defiant yet apprehensive face, it might have been -a revelation to her; but she looked at Don Rafael.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Your daughter has a strange face and strange ways -for a ranchero’s daughter,” she said, with an attempt at -irony; but it failed. Her face worked painfully as she -added, “She reminds me of those I would forget. We -have strange fancies as we grow old.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>A laugh sounded from the window above. She started -and looked up, then dropped her head again and turned -slowly away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata gazed after her awestruck, though she knew not -why. Her manner was so different from that of the proud -and haughty dame she had pictured. Don Rafael looked -from Doña Isabel to his mother. Both these women, it -seemed to him, had grown wonderfully aged since they -had met, but a month or so before. There was a subtile -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>antagonism between them—these two who loved each -other, as only such deep intense natures can—which -tore and harried them far more than actual hate could -have done.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What hast thou, my life?” Doña Feliz whispered to -Chata. “Art thou not happy? Have strange tales been -told thee?” and she looked keenly at her daughter-in-law, -who had smiled and courtesied in vain as Doña Isabel -went by.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“My mother,” said Doña Rita in her softest voice, -“the child is weary; she must rest. Heed not this silly -child, Don Fernando. Thank Heaven, Rosario is not so -fanciful!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But Don Fernando was not thinking of Rosario, or -of Chata either for that matter, but of how he had slunk -away from his chief to prosecute a love-affair that he had -believed no power could make less than a matter of life or -death to him; and how in a moment it had become lighter -than air. The boyish perversity with which he had determined, -even at the risk of offending his patron, to continue -his courtship of Rosario Sanchez, trusting to fate or her -father’s generosity to make marriage with her possible, -faded from his mind like a dream, and with it her image; -and in its place rose the arch mocking face of the “little -saint of the Wall.” Proved she angel or demon, he felt -that she was henceforth the genius of his destiny. He -was a vain and profligate adventurer; but all the same -the arrow had found his heart, not as a thousand times -before to inflict a passing scratch, but to bury itself in -its inmost core.</p> - -<p class='c001'>All had taken place in a few short moments. While the -horses were being unharnessed and led away; while the -villagers were still crowding around the carriage, and Doña -Rita’s baskets and packages were being lifted out; while -a few words of greeting were exchanged,—emotions and -passions had sprung into being that were to make the -seemingly prosaic household a very vortex of conflicting -elements.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young American, who thought himself but a looker-on, -was also not unmoved. Like Doña Isabel, he said -within himself, “That young girl has a strange face and -strange ways for the daughter of a Mexican. And yet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>what know I of Mexicans or their ways? This is a strange -atmosphere, and fills my brain with strange fancies. Perhaps -out of them all I shall evolve some reality. May the -Fates grant me again such a chance as I had to-day of -speaking to the wild gypsy Chinita! Nothing has happened -here, I can well believe, that she cannot tell me -of. But after the escapade of to-day, she will hardly -escape the vigilance of her duenna again. Ah, here -comes the young soldier—too travel-stained to be as -dashing as is his custom, no doubt. He looks a gay bird -with sadly bedraggled feathers.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé apparently approved of him as little, as he passed -by to the room assigned him. The peasant did not cease -from lounging against the wall or bare his head as an -inferior should.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Insolent barbarian!” muttered Don Fernando, in a -revival of his usual contempt for the peasantry, as the -swarthy young fellow scowled at him, he neither guessed -nor cared why. What could such a vagabond have to do -with the Señora Garcia’s <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i>? He would serve when -the time came, to make one, in the independent troop -he, Fernando, would raise: such worms as he were only -fit to serve men. There were wild rumors afloat of the -wonderful fortune of that phœnix Benito Juarez. What -if he, Ruiz, should join his standard? There was a strange -fire and exultation in the young man’s veins. He had been -tied to a resistless fate long enough,—he would break his -trammels, and by one daring act free himself forever from -control, from tutelage, from Ramirez.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXVIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>“Señor Don Rafael!” cried a hoarse voice at break -of day. “Rise, your grace! for strange things have happened -while we have slept! Ay, Señor, if the demon -himself has not carried away Pedro the gatekeeper, who -can tell us how he has gone?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Gone!” echoed the voice of Don Rafael from -within.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Gone, Señor, and left not even so much as his shadow; -yet the doors are locked, and not even in the postern is -there so much as a crack, nor the key in the lock. The -muleteers, who were to be upon the road at cock-crow, -have waited until both they and their beasts are cramped -with standing, and all to no purpose.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Is this true?” exclaimed Don Rafael, presently appearing -with a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">serape</span></i> thrown over his shoulders, and -shivering in the morning air. “Ay, man, thou hast a -tongue like a woman’s. And Pedro, thou sayest, is -gone?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The man drew one hand sharply across the other, as -who should say, “vanished!” though his lips ejaculated, -“Gone, Señor; and who is to open the door now that it -is shut? And who could shut the door upon Pedro but -Satan himself?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Who, indeed?” said Don Rafael, gravely. “Think -you so bulky a fellow could creep through the keyhole of -the postern and take the key with him? By good fortune, -he brought me the key of the great door as usual, and -here it is. If the Devil hath carried away one gatekeeper -on his shoulders, it is but fair he should send me another; -and thou, Felipe, shall be the man.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Felipe stared a moment; then with a transient change -of expression which might be of intelligence, or simply a -vague smile at his own good fortune, extended his hand -for the keys; and suddenly mute with the weight of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>unexpected promotion trudged down the stone stairs, -across the silent inner court and the outer one, where -by this time the household servants were exchanging exclamations -of wonder and alarm with the impatient muleteers. -Felipe unlocked the wide doors, threw them open -with a clang, sank into Pedro’s place upon the stone bench, -and thereafter reigned in his stead.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The wonder of Pedro’s disappearance grew greater and -ever greater, until the boy Pepé said sulkily he had been -played a shabby trick. Had not he said to Pedro the night -before, when the Señor Don Rafael had told them that -the General Vicente Gonzales was in El Toro, that for a -word he himself would go to him there; and doubtless -Pedro had stolen away alone, like the surly fox that he -was. But the saints be praised, the road was open to -one man as well as another.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hush!” said one in a warning tone; “though Pedro -may have a fancy for a cleft head or broken bones, must -we all cry for the same? Go to thou Pepé! thou art scarce -old enough to leave the shade of thy mother’s reboso. -Did I not see thee sucking thy thumb but last Saint -John’s day?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was a roar of laughter, and though Pepé raged, -no one heeded his wrath; the talk was all of Pedro. That -he had gone to be a soldier was universally believed; that -Don Rafael, and not the Devil, had aided his going was -not for a moment thought of. The women crossed themselves, -and the men spat on the floor emphatically,—yet -there had been more mysteries than that in the life of -Pedro.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Florencia, who was distraught at her uncle’s disappearance, -and tore her hair and bewailed herself as a bereaved -niece should, found her way to Chinita to pour out her -griefs and fears; although since the change in the young -girl’s position they had by common consent ignored their -former relations,—Florencia, because of the wide social -gulf fixed between the great house and the hovels around -it; Chinita, from pure indifference. She was too full of -her new life to think of the old, or of the persons connected -with it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was so early that she was still not fully dressed, and -the chocolate wherewith to break her fast stood untouched -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>upon the table, when the sound of some one sobbing at -the door brought a tone of sorrow into thoughts which had -simply been vexed before.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had risen in an ill humor. Doña Rita and Rosario, -and even Chata herself, had failed to show any surprise -at her position. True, Don Rafael had warned them of -it; but at least something more than a kindly indifference -might have greeted her,—if only a glance of envy from -Rosario. What wonderful things had they all seen, that -they had no thoughts to spare for her? Bah! Rosario -had neither eyes nor thoughts for any one but the young -officer with the red neck-tie. Well, they should see! -But what of Doña Rita,—and Chata too? Why, Chinita -hardly knew her. Was she also thinking but of herself, -like the others? That was a change in Chata, and -one that ill-suited her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had slept badly for thinking of these things; -and truth to tell, when her mind was ill at ease the softness -of the bed troubled her. She had dreamed of snakes, -of three snakes who had lifted their heads out of water to -hiss at her. Here was the first one. Certainly she had -not dreamed of snakes for nothing. Well, to be sure, -here was Florencia, whom she had almost forgotten, -come with some trouble! She felt a little flutter of -gratification, and unconsciously assumed the air of a -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">patrona</span></i>, as she said,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, is it then Florencia? And what ails thee; and -how can I help thee? What, has Tomasito broken the -newest water-jar, or by better fortune his neck? Or has -Terecita choked herself with a dry bean?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“God has not desired to do me such favors,” returned -Florencia, piously and with a flood of tears. “No, rather -than my children should become little angels, he prefers -that they shall be friendless upon the earth. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Ay de mi!</span></i> -what is a father, what is a husband (and you know the -very driveller of a man I have), what is any one to an uncle -who was a gatekeeper of Tres Hermanos?—a veritable -treasure of silver, a spring of refreshing! Was there ever -a time Florencia asked a shilling of Pedro in vain?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>At another time Chinita would have laughed at this -pious exaggeration; now it filled her with inexpressible -alarm.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>“What! is my god-father dead?” she cried, wringing -her hands and for the moment relapsing into the demonstrative -gestures and cries of her plebeian training. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Ay -Dios</span></i>, Florencia, it cannot be! Answer me, stupid one! -Is thy mouth as full as thy eyes that thou canst not -answer?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Is chocolate served to the poor at day-break?” cried -Florencia in an injured tone, and with a glance at the -dainty breakfast; and then at an impatient word from -Chinita she explained how Pedro had departed in the -night, though the hacienda doors were locked upon the -inside, and conjectured that if he had not been spirited -away by the Devil, he had gone to join the Liberal General -Gonzales,—there could be no other alternative. -She had heard Señor Don Rafael talking to him till -late in the night of how Gonzales had beaten the General -Ramirez at El Toro, and was still there trying to -strengthen his forces, while those of the Clergy had disappeared, -no one knew where, but surely to gather men -and means to recover the lost position.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita’s eyes flashed. She knew nothing of politics, -but she thrilled at the name of Ramirez. She laughed -scornfully that Pedro should throw his puny strength into -the force against him. Still she said, “God keep him;” -and jested away Florencia’s fears.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Bah! What should happen to my god-father?” she -said. “And thou knowest thou wilt want for nothing. -Hark thou! there is nothing to cry for that thy uncle is -gone. Has he not often told us of the dollars he made in -the wars?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I fear me he is likely rather to receive hard blows -than hard dollars now,” answered Florencia, disconsolately,—an -expression of expectancy, however, relieving -her doleful countenance, as she added, “Ah, Chinita of -my soul, thou wert ever the kerchief to wipe away my -tears.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita laughed. “Thou used to say I was a prickly -pear to draw tears, rather than a kerchief to dry them,” -she presently said, pushing her chocolate toward Florencia, -and thrusting into her hand the little twists of -bread.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There, take them; I would a thousand times rather -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>have a thick cake and a drink of white gruel. One is not -always in the humor for sweets;” and she tugged viciously -at the hair she tried vainly to smooth,—she was always -at feud with it because it was not longer. But at last she -confined it in two short tresses, tying each with a red -ribbon; and then suddenly dropping on her knees before -Florencia, placed her hands palm downward upon the -floor, and looking up in the woman’s face with a laugh -exclaimed, as a tinge of red deepened the olive of her -complexion, “And what of the American, Florencia? Is -he like him thou sayest the Señorita Herlinda loved?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ave Maria Purissima!” cried the startled woman. -“The saints forbid that I should say such a thing of a -Garcia, and she dedicated to the Madonna!” But recovering -herself, “Certainly this American is like the other. -Is not one cactus like another that grows on the same -mountain? Should a white-blooded American be like a -cavalier of blue-blood, or like an Indian of the villages? -Yet both, one and the other, are we not Mexicans?” and -she uttered the words as one might say, “Are we not -gods?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That is very true,” commented Chinita, gravely; “and -yet they are not frights, these Americans. Why should -not the Señorita Herlinda have loved one if it pleased -her? Listen, Florencia; I will tell thee a dream I had -one night. When one’s bed is too soft, one dreams -dreams.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Florencia looked at the girl with an admiring glance. -How amiable she could be, this Chinita, when she -chose. “Little puss! little puss!” she murmured, -giving her the pet name Pedro had used, when in her -kittenish moods one had never known whether she would -scratch or fondle one with soft purrings, begun and ended -in a moment. “Little puss! thou wert ever good to thy -Florencia.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thou art a flatterer!” ejaculated Chinita, half-inclined -to withhold her confidence, yet longing for a listener. “Ay, -Florencia, thou knowest not what it is to sit for hours in -the gloom within four walls. Ah, what thoughts come -into one’s head! When I ran about the village, the wind -blew the thoughts about as it did my hair; but now my -brains are like cobwebs, and when a thought touches them -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>it clings like dust, and so they grow thicker and heavier -until my very skull aches;” and she pressed her head -with her hands, and heaved a deep sigh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But to think is not to dream,” said Florencia, in -some disappointment, for she had a child’s love for the -marvellous, and did not understand Chinita’s abstractions,—unstudied -and simple though they were.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But dreams come from thoughts,” answered Chinita; -“and what should I think of here but of mysteries,—such -as why the Señora should keep me with her, though -she loves me not; why she walks the floor and counts her -beads, and when she forgets I am in the room murmurs -over and over the name of Herlinda; why she looks before -her sometimes, as you used to tell me the woman looked -who saw the ghost of the American,—and that is always -when she chances to meet this Don ’Guardo whom she will -not speak of, or suffer Doña Feliz to invite to our table, -though he stays here so long. And after I have asked so -many things, I set myself to the answer. Oh, you would -wonder at what I say to myself of all these things,—and -then sometimes come dreams to tell me I am right.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Florencia looked at the door vaguely,—she was -thinking perhaps she had better go.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, yes,” continued Chinita, as if to herself, “I am -growing perhaps like the owl,—I, who in the broad sunlight -saw nothing, have discovered many things here in the -dark. Well, well, Florencia, one thought came to me on a -vexed night when I could not sleep. I had been talking -to Doña Feliz that day. I know not why, but I am with -Doña Feliz like the young fox my god-father tamed,—when -I touched him with my hand he was pleased, yet he -bristled and longed to bite. Good! we had talked that -day. Yes,—it was of the nuns, and she said the Señora -might desire I should be one; and I was angry, and said I -would not be shut up to pray as the Señorita Herlinda -had been; and then Doña Feliz bade me be silent and -ponder what she had said. And after she went away it -was not of myself I thought, but of the Señorita Herlinda; -and in the midst of my thoughts I saw the American pass -the court, and Doña Isabel, who was near, turned herself -away, as if an adder had darted upon her.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Florencia looked up with a mute inquiry or fascination in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>her gaze. Chinita, in a sort of monotone, followed the -thread of her thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“When I went to sleep at last, I dreamed that I, -though still Chinita, was Herlinda, and that the American -who was lying wounded in the room below came up the -stairs, and tapped lightly at my window. I stepped softly -and looked out at him through the grating. Ah, it was -this Don ’Guardo, yet so different, as a man is different -from his reflection in a glass; and I did not wonder to see -him there. I put my hand out and touched him, and was -happy. And as I stood at the bars,—I myself, and yet -the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Herlinda,—the man of my dream said, as a husband -says to his wife, ‘Open, my life;’ and when I -opened the door he led in by the hand a little child,—I -knew it to be his child, though it had not blue eyes nor -the yellow hair. Well, I stood there, and stood there, -and strove to speak and could not; and the vision of the -man and of the child faded, and the thought that I was -still Herlinda faded too, and the dream was ended.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She ceased speaking, and looked at Florencia with a -vague yet searching gaze.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“By my faith, a strange dream!” murmured Florencia, -disquieted. “You should have lighted a blessed candle -when you woke, and passed it before you three times, saying -an <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Ave</span></i> each time. Santa Inez! I would rather see -the ghost of the American than dream such a dream!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Coward! it frightened me not,” continued the girl. -“And I did not seem to wake, though I knew that I, -Chinita, lay in the bed, and that my head sank deep in -the soft pillow, and that I could not or would not raise it; -and the meaning of the dream crept into my mind, as the -light creeps into a dark room. Yes, I felt as I used to -when I saw the little green blades shoot up in the spring, -and I could think how the corn would grow, and the leaves -would wave, and the maize would lie in the silk and the -yellow sheath; and so I had thought of what I had heard,—of -the love of Herlinda for the American, and what -might have come of it.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hush!” interrupted Florencia with a scared look. -“You said you dreamed of a child. Did you see its face?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No,” answered Chinita, slowly. “But what need that -I should see it?”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>The two had risen as if by one impulse, and looked into -each other’s eyes. The woman was awed as much by the -penetration and daring of the young girl’s mind as by the -thought that for the first time arose within her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>She cast her thoughts back. She had been young when -the American was murdered, when the Señorita Herlinda -had left the hacienda never to return, when the child had -been found at the gate; yet she wondered that she had -been so blind to what now appeared so plain, and that all -alike—the wise and simple, the old and young—had -been so utterly dazzled by the glamor that surrounded the -family of Garcia that no suspicion of dishonor might attach -to its women, or of cowardice to its men. Surely -none other than Herlinda Garcia would have escaped -the lynx-eyed Selsa, or a score of other scandal-loving -women! Curiously enough, while a feeling of detraction -for the nun, whom she had long been used to canonize -in her thoughts, stole into her mind, a sensation of -traditional reverence for the Garcia arose for the young -girl before her. Florencia’s ideas of morality were perhaps -vague on all points; they certainly did not reach -that of aspersion of the innocent fruit of another’s fault.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i>,” the woman said at last with a gasp, “it -is not every one who drinks red wine that is happy. -Thanks to God, the peasant woman who carries a burden -in her arms too soon needs only to suckle it under her -scarf, like any mother, and needs not to close upon herself -the doors of a convent. Santa Maria! who would -have thought such things of the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Herlinda?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Be silent!” cried Chinita, with a tardy repentance of -her confidence. “How do I know that I am not the -worst of evil thinkers, and a fool, a very fool? Look thou, -Florencia, it is thou who shall discover the truth for me. -Pedro is gone; perhaps he never knew it. The Tio Reyes -must know; but where is he? Yet I <em>must</em> know. Oh, I -could bear the truth from Feliz, from Doña Isabel; but -they are as silent and as sorrowful as the image of the -Madre Dolores. It is thou, Florencia, who must help me. -Oh, it will be but a diversion for thee. Thou shalt talk of -thy Tio Pedro, and of the day I was dropped in his hand, -and of the days that went before. Thou canst talk now -of the murder of the American, and of the Señorita Herlinda -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>too, and there will be no Pedro to chide thee. And -see,—” as the woman began some faint objection,—“I -have all the pretty things Pedro gave me, and money -too; yes, more than thou wouldst think. And thou shalt -never miss thy uncle; thou shalt have them all, if thou -wilt but talk to the old women of things that happened -here before the time of the great sickness. But, Florencia, -thou must tell them nothing. Oh, if I could only run -again in and out of the village huts as I used to do!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Florencia looked at the excited girl with a nod of intelligence. -“Have no fear,” she said; “it is not possible -that Florencia knows not how to manage her own tongue, -though no one knows better than thyself it was ever a -quiet one. But it shall wag now, and not like the dog’s -tail, in mere idleness.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita laughed, then glancing around her warily, drew -from her bosom a small gold coin. She had evidently -prepared herself for a chance meeting with Florencia.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Take it,” she said, “and go. Thou hast been here too -long already; and,” she added with the flush of red again -tingeing her face, “talk and gossip when the American is -near. He must be sad,—it will cheer him to hear the -voices, even if he understands but little; and if by -chance he speaks to thee, why! thou shalt tell me -what he says.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Florencia had experienced one great surprise that -morning, and here was another; the first had awed, -the second delighted her. Like all her race she had the -instincts of secrecy and intrigue, and suddenly the opportunity -to practise both were offered her. She looked -at Chinita with a glance of infinite cunning in her soft -dark eyes; but the young girl would not meet her gaze. -“Go, go!” she said impatiently; “you have been -here too long. The Señora is coming—or is it Doña -Feliz? Go! go, I say!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was neither Doña Isabel nor Feliz, but only Chata, -who entered with a preoccupied air, scarcely noticing the -woman who passed her on the threshold. She did not -speak, however, until Florencia had reluctantly passed -out of hearing; and then she cried eagerly, “Chinita! -Chinita! who is the stranger who stood with thee at the -doorway? God bless us! I thought I saw the ghost of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>the American we used to talk of; and but now I met -him below in the court. Who is he? What is he here -for?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That remains to be seen,” answered Chinita, with an -uneasy laugh. Her hasty confidence in Florencia troubled -her, and closed her lips toward the friend for whom she -had hitherto longed. “At least the stranger is no ghost; -yet how can we know that the man who was murdered -here so many years before was anything to him?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But I do know,” insisted Chata. “I had gone to -the arbor, thinking thou mightest be there, to break my -fast. I was standing in the centre, with my eyes turned -toward this room, thinking I should see thee leave it, and -thinking too of the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Herlinda,—O Chinita! she is still -so beautiful,—when I heard a step behind me. It was a -strange step, and I turned quickly and saw the American -looking at me as if he too believed he saw a ghost. Was -it not strange, Chinita? We looked at each other quite -steadily for many moments, then he said,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Pardon me, you are then the daughter of the administrador? -You came here yesterday?’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I could scarcely make out his words, yet I understood -what he said, and I seemed to know that he had taken me -for another,—perhaps for thee, Chinita; and then again -he said, ‘Pardon me! Pardon me!’ and we still continued -to look at each other; and I did not think how -bold I must appear until the other stranger, the young -officer who loves Rosario, stepped out of the room they -have given him. I heard his spurs clank on the pavement, -and then I fled away to thee. But for the fright, I should -not have dared to come hither, Chinita. All yesterday -my grandmother kept me from thee. She said now thou -art the child of Doña Isabel, and that without leave I -must not go to thee.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chata, thou hast a poor spirit!” exclaimed Chinita, -with some severity,—though she remembered with impatient -anger that Doña Isabel had kept her in the garden -at her side, on pretence of showing her the strings -of irregular pearls, which she should some day arrange -in even strands. Doña Isabel had made no promise, -but Chinita could almost see them in the future bedecking -her own neck and arms. She had been beguiled, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>even as Chata had been commanded, to keep apart from -her old playmate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There is a mystery in it all!” she exclaimed. -“Though I am here with Doña Isabel, I know not who I -am. It is intolerable! Sometimes I fear I am but her -plaything, with no more right to her notice than had the -fawn I found on the river bank and petted, till it died from -very heartbreak because it longed so for the mountains -and its kind. And so I long, Chata. Ah, thou knowest -not what it is to be a nameless wretch, to be tossed from -hand to hand, and have no share in the game but the -dizzy whirling through the air. Pshaw! I would rather -be dashed to pieces against the first wall than go through -life with nothing but favor to rely on. I want a name, a -place, a right. I will have them: even you, who are the -daughter of the administrador, have those; and I—Well, -I will not be simply <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Chinita</span></i>, whom Doña Isabel makes -a lady to-day, who was a child of the Madonna yesterday, -and may be a beggar to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata had been leaning on the arm and pressing her -head against the shoulder of Chinita. She raised it now -with a sharp low cry, and turned away. Little guessed the -impetuous, ambitious foundling how her words tortured -and taunted the other, who longed to cry out, “I too -am no one! I too am a stray, a waif, and if I know my -father, know him only as a terror,—a horror.” Her -promise to Doña Rita silenced her. She felt there was -but one person in the world to whom she would break her -promise,—the pale, sweet-faced nun of the convent of El -Toro. In her passionate, bitter mood Chinita chilled and -silenced <a id='corr260.31'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='her,'>her.</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_260.31'><ins class='correction' title='her,'>her.</ins></a></span> She did not even tell her that as she hastened -from the arbor the American had caught the end of -her flying reboso, as if by an irresistible impulse, and -cried: “I am Ashley Ward! Ashley! Ashley! remember -the name!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Remember it! it seemed to Chata as if she had always -known the man as well as the name, which had ever before -been to her the symbol of the dead rather than of the living. -That she should have seen the Señorita Herlinda, -whom she had always known to be alive, seemed more -wonderful, more incredible to her mind, than that the -young man should have risen before her to claim the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>name of the murdered foreigner. Now that he had come, -she seemed all her life to have been expecting him. She -did not see him again for days, but all that time the -expression of his eyes haunted her. She could not -fathom it. She did not guess it had been but a reflection -of the surprise, yet conviction, in her own.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata did not again transgress the commands of Doña -Feliz; nor did she remain long enough with Chinita in her -first visit to be tempted into further confidence. Indeed, -they parted with something like a quarrel, as they had -been used to do in their childhood’s days. Rosario’s name -had been mentioned, and Chinita had with some scorn -commented both on her sentimental air and the indifference -of her lover.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Did he love her at El Toro?” she asked with the -laugh that was so mocking. “He stood for an hour, you -say, at the corner of the street waiting for a glance from -her; he wrote verses by day and sang them by night beneath -her window? Well, he stood from noon till night -yesterday with his eyes turned upward,—one would have -thought he had never gazed at anything lower than the -sky; yet it was only for a glimpse of <em>my</em> face, and a single -glance from my eyes dazzled and blinded him. Thank -Heaven, he dare not tune a guitar beneath my windows -for fear of Doña Isabel, or I should be tormented with -all the old rhymes changed from Rosario to Chinita. Ah, -there are likings and likings, and this pretty soldier is -one who would try them all!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chinita,” cried Chata in indignation, “you are false, -you are cruel! Rosario has done nothing to you that you -should torment her. I understand nothing of such things -as Rosario does; though I am her age, she seems to -be a woman while I am still a child. But she says she -loves Fernando, and for love a woman’s heart may -break.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata was thinking of the pale, sad nun; but Chinita -threw herself into a chair and broke into a peal of laughter. -It rang through the silent house, and startled Doña Isabel -in the further chamber. She started nervously and -clasped her hands over her ears.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What a strange child it is.” she murmured, “Ah, I -should have loved her if—” She glanced at a note she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>had just written. It was addressed to Vicente Gonzales, -and promised him a thousand mounted soldiers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel made no idle promises, and she had counted -well the cost when she had thus irrevocably committed herself -to the cause of the Liberals. She had watched for -years the course of events, and none saw more clearly -than she that the time for passiveness had gone. On -every hand there must necessarily be sacrifice. “That -which goes not in sighs, must in tears,” she said sententiously. -“I like not the Indian Juarez, yet his policy -promises deliverance from the vampire that for generations -has grown strong and ever stronger, as it has -drained the very life of the nation.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The knowledge that Gonzales was in El Toro enjoying -the prestige of an accidental victory, but with a force -entirely insufficient to meet that which Ramirez might at -any day bring against him, had been the immediate cause -of her action. To reward Pedro with a service which -should at once remove him from her sight and fill his mind -with new and absorbing interests, were the reasons why -he had been chosen to ride from rancho to rancho secretly -inciting the men to join the standard, which was to be -raised upon the morrow.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, this Ruiz is a poor tool!” muttered Doña Isabel, -“yet for that reason may be the more readily bought. -He loves the daughter of my administrador, and will do -much to gain my good word. Rafael says he is a brave -soldier, if a false one; and there will be those with him -who will guard against treachery. He shall fulfil his -empty offer to lead a thousand men to Gonzales, and -claim of Rafael the reward he sighs for. Ah, there is -the child’s laugh again,—I could almost fancy it in -mockery of me! Ah, this of patriot is a new <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</span></i> for -me, and tries my nerves. Well, Chinita shall laugh while -she can: if it is for long, it will prove her none of the -blood of Garcia. Was there ever a happy woman among -them?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>While Doña Isabel pondered thus, Chata in deep indignation -had turned from her whilom friend. She had been -brought up among a people who in matters of love held -man excused and woman guilty in all cases of inconstancy. -“Farewell!” she exclaimed, “I will come no more to you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>who are so cruel. Doña Isabel was right to part us; she -has changed your heart as she has your fortune. Ah!” -she added bitterly, “all the world is changed to me, and -why not you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The grieved and imbittered girl went out so quickly -that Chinita’s answer did not reach her. As she passed -through the corridor Chata glanced down. The young -officer stood there, as Chinita had described. He would -catch the first glimpse of her as she left her room. Chata -flushed in anger, yet tears of pity rose to her eyes. She -was still a child, yet her heart foretold what might be the -agony of woman’s slighted love.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Even so soon Chinita was laughing no longer; she had -crouched forward and sat with her face bent almost to her -knees. “What have I done?” she asked herself. “It -is early morning still, and I have told a secret to a fool, -and offended her I should have trusted!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She had eaten nothing; the excitement under which she -had acted suddenly expired, and she burst into sobs and -tears. Doña Feliz coming in a few minutes later, found -her on her knees before the little image of her patron -saint, passionately vowing the gift of a silver <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Christo</span></i> in -return for the boon she craved.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Go to the corridor, my child,” said Feliz pityingly. -The girl was a problem to her, which every day seemed -more difficult of solution. “You look weary and ill; but -console yourself,—Pedro is safe. You will see the good -foster-father again, be assured.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita looked at her in astonishment. She had for the -time forgotten Pedro’s very existence. Doña Feliz discerned -at once that she had credited the girl with a sensibility -to which she was a stranger. Five minutes later -she was quite certain of it, as Chinita sat on the corridor, -apparently equally unconscious of the impassioned -glances of Ruiz, or those of the invisible but infuriate -Rosario, drawing the threads of some dainty linen and -singing,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Sale la Linda,</span></i></div> - <div class='line in2'><i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Sale la fea,</span></i></div> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Sale el enano,</span></i></div> - <div class='line in2'><i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Con su galea.</span></i></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>“The beauty comes out,</div> - <div class='line in2'>The ugly one too;</div> - <div class='line'>Then comes the dwarf,</div> - <div class='line in2'>With a gay halloo.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>As unstudied and inconsequent as the meaningless -words of the song seemed the actions of the singer, but -Feliz shook her head, and met Doña Isabel with a face -that was even more serious than its wont. The problem -became to her mind each day more complicated. Would -the result be bitterness, and that grief most dreaded by -the proud heart of Doña Isabel Garcia,—the grief and -bitterness of shame?</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXIX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Florencia fulfilled her mission well,—recalling skilfully -to the minds of the elder gossips the events and doubts of -years agone, and those suspicions, light as air, which had -once before menaced the fair name and fame of her -who later had been revered as a saint under the name of -Sister Veronica.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was natural after the excitement of Pedro’s disappearance -had subsided that reminiscences of events in -which he had figured should, in default of some new interest, -rise to the stagnant surface of hacienda life, and be -re-colored and adorned with suggestions probable or improbable, -and that the favorite topic should be torn to -shreds in its dissection, while the motive power of its appearance -should in the excitement of discussion be utterly -lost sight of. Florencia herself, in the interest of tracing -the sequence of events, and in hearing attributed to the -characters that had figured in her girlhood traits and -deeds of which she had heard little or nothing at that -bygone time, almost forgot that she was talking with a -purpose, and therefore perhaps had a truly unprejudiced -account to give to Chinita,—when she could again see her, -for Doña Isabel had become a wary duenna, and the girl -had had no opportunity of learning anything that might -have thrown light upon the theory she had formed of her -birth and parentage.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In his insufficient knowledge of the language, Ashley -Ward let much of the gossip of the women who chatted -about him as they performed their daily tasks pass entirely -unheeded, while he pondered upon the very subjects -which with more or less directness were discussed. But -one morning he caught the name of Herlinda, and thenceforth -all his senses were alert. Great was his surprise -when he discovered this to be the name of a daughter -of Doña Isabel who had been a beautiful girl when the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>American was killed, and thenceforward his mind became -preternaturally keen; so that he divined the meanings of -words he had never heard before,—gestures, glances, -the very inflection of a tone, became revelations to him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Hitherto, without cogitating upon the matter, Ward had -naturally assumed from hearing no reference to another -that the newly married Carmen was the only child of Doña -Isabel. Now he learned the tragical fate of Norberto and -the existence of the elder and more beautiful daughter -Herlinda, the cloistered nun; and she was for the time -the theme of endless reminiscences and conjectures. Her -winsome childhood; her early gayety and incomparable -beauty; the open love of Gonzales; the suspected mutual -attachment of the young American and the daring child, -who with her mother’s pride had failed to inherit her -mother’s strength of will; the murder of John Ashley; -the time of the great sickness; the death of Mademoiselle -La Croix; the effect of the shock and horror upon the -mind and appearance of Herlinda; the scarcely whispered, -faint, yet not wholly disproved suspicions which had -floated over the name and fame of the daughter of a house -too absolute in its ascendency and power to be lightly attacked; -her removal from the hacienda; her strange rejection -of the suit of one who had always been dear to her, -and to whom her mother, in accordance with good and -seemly usage, had pledged her; her renunciation of the -world she had loved, and entrance to a convent, which she -had held in horror,—all these circumstances were discussed -from a dozen points of view.</p> - -<p class='c001'>And all he heard confirmed in Ashley’s mind the belief -that the woman whom his cousin had loved was traced; that -whether she had been actually a wife or no, she, Herlinda -Garcia, the daughter of a woman whom it would be a -mortal offence to approach upon such a subject, was the -possible mother of a child which he could scarcely refuse -to believe existed,—though here a new perplexity confronted -him as (like the young officer, whom he regarded -with a half-contemptuous amusement that should have -prevented him from following any example set by so -love-lorn a cavalier) he began to seek occasion for observing -Chinita with an intensity that made her doubly the -object of the jealous and ireful dislike of Rosario and her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>mother. To his alert and dispassionate mind circumstances -pointed to this girl as the possible link between the -families of Ashley and Garcia, though the most minute -and patient observation only seemed to make absurd the -supposition that American blood mingled in the fiery -tide which filled her veins, colored her rich beauty, and -vivified the scornful and stoical yet ambitious spirit, -which as by a spell at the same moment repelled yet -charmed both himself and the haughty Doña Isabel. What -was the secret of the foundling’s influence? He cared not -to analyze either his own mind or the irresistible fascination -of Chinita; but that the girl, though not positively -beautiful, and unmistakably repellent in her caustic -yet stoical discontent and ambitious unrest, possessed a -bewitching and bewildering grace far different from any -he had ever beheld in woman, of whatever race or kindred, -impressed him daily more and more deeply, while—But -stubborn facts made speculation and efforts at inquiry -alike futile.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As days passed on, a certain friendship sprang up between -Ward and Don Rafael. They talked for hours -over the political situation,—Ashley straining ear and -mind to comprehend the administrador’s smooth and impressive -utterances, and Don Rafael with grave politeness -listening without a smile or gesture of amusement to the -hesitating and often utterly incomprehensible attempts of -the young American to deliver his opinions, or to make -minute inquiry into reasons and events which often horrified -as well as puzzled him. Don Rafael had the air of simplicity -and candor which is so infinitely attractive to the -stranger, and which presented so great a contrast to the -lofty coldness of Doña Isabel and the grave and melancholy -reticence of Feliz. Their demeanor left the baffling -and depressing conviction that there was an infinity that -they might reveal were but the right chord touched; while -that of Don Rafael was satisfying in its cordiality, even -while no response fulfilled the expectation that his fluent -and kindly frankness appeared to encourage.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As soon as the state of his wound permitted, Ashley -joined the administrador in his early morning rides to the -fields and pastures, and learned much of the workings of -a great hacienda. These rides were confined to the immediate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>neighborhood of the great house, and four or six -armed men were invariably in attendance,—for, as Don -Rafael explained with a smile, the administrador of the -rich hacienda of Tres Hermanos was invested with the dignity -of its possessors, his personal insignificance being -absorbed in the state of those he represented; so that his -person bore a fictitious value, and if seized by an enemy, -either personal or political, would doubtless be held at a -prince’s ransom, which the honor as well as the interest of -his employers would force them to pay.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the course of these rides they not infrequently approached -the deserted reduction-works, and it was upon -the first occasion that this happened that Don Rafael -questioned the young American as to his relationship to -the last director; and upon learning it, rehearsed with -deep feeling the story of his murder, pointing out the very -tree under which the bloody tragedy was enacted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley watched his countenance narrowly as he talked. -His words, whose meaning might have been obscure to -the foreigner, were rendered dramatic by the deep pathos -of his tone and the expressive force of his gestures; even -the men who rode behind drew near as his voice rose on -the stillness of the air in a tale so foreign to the peace and -beauty of the scene. As they skirted the low adobe wall -and looked over upon the stagnant masses of mineral clay, -the piles of broken ores, the adobe sheds and stables -crumbling under rain and sun, Ashley was ready to credit -the whispered words with which Don Rafael ended his -narration; “Señor, it is said in the silent night, when -the moon is at its full, phantoms of its old life revivify -this deserted spot, and that its massive gates open at -the call of a ghostly rider, who wears the form of that -poor youth who after his last midnight ride came back -feet foremost, recumbent, silent, from the tryst he had -sallied forth to keep.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And did you know the woman?” gasped rather than -demanded Ashley Ward.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Did <em>I</em> know the woman?” answered Don Rafael. “I -know the woman? I was a stranger, and, truth to tell, no -friend of Americans; a faithful husband withal, and was -it likely, though he had them, this stranger would have -shared secrets of a doubtful nature with me? When -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>I said a ‘tryst’ I used it for want of a better word. What -attraction should a man so refined, so engrossed in his -affairs as this busy foreigner, find in the humble and rustic -beauties of the village? For my part, I find it impossible -to imagine such coarseness in a man so little likely to be -governed by a base passion as Ashley appeared. You -know your own people better than I can; what say you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I say the same!” answered Ward, eagerly, with a -keen glance at the sensitive dark face of the administrador. -“Yet I know that my cousin loved; that he claimed -to be married; that the lady—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He paused,—some of the men were within hearing, -listening like Don Rafael himself with rapt faces. That -of Don Rafael lighted for a moment with an incredulous -smile. “Ah, then there <em>was</em> a woman?” he said. “That -might be; but a marriage? Ah, Señor, if there had been -that, all the world would have known it. You know but -little of our laws if you suppose such a contract could be -here secretly and legally made. If he claimed such to be -the case, he was vilely deceived, or himself was—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He stopped at the word, as if fearing to offend.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To urge the matter further seemed to Ashley worse -than useless. He had learned enough of marriage laws in -Mexico to feel that to mention the name of Herlinda Garcia -in connection with that of Ashley was to cast upon it -a slur such as could but bring upon him the resentment, -and perhaps the revenge, of the family to which he was -probably indebted for his very life, and certainly for a -hospitality that merited respect for its liberality if not -gratitude for its warmth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I shall never learn the truth,” he thought; “and why -indeed should I seek it? My aunt was wise in her generation. -Though ignorant of the possibilities or impossibilities -of Mexican society and character, she wisely -refrained from problems which its keenness and honor -ignored or left unsolved. I will go back again in content -to my houses and lands, to my silver and gold. I am -despoiling no legitimate heir; and to imagine the existence -of any other is an offence either to my cousin’s intelligence -or honor, as well as to the chastity of a woman -whom even in thought I must be a villain to asperse. -Let but a momentary quiet come that I may be able to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>obtain the requisite funds, and I will abandon this senseless -quest, and leave my murdered cousin to rest in -peace in his forgotten grave, in this land of violence and -mysteries.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>This was the resolve of one hour,—to be broken in the -next, as the sight of a girl’s face or the sound of her -voice, like a disturbing conscience, assured him that in -absence the doubt, or rather the tantalizing certainty, -would each day torment him more and more, and so make -enjoyment of his wealth even more impossible than it had -been when Mary’s sensitive imaginings had urged him -upon his Quixotic errand.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Trivial and even ridiculous things often divert minds -most harassed and burdened, and exert an influence when -great and weighty matters would benumb or torture. It -would have been impossible for Ashley Ward, in the embarrassment -of his situation (for his funds in the City of -Mexico were entirely cut off by its investment by the Liberals) -and in the perplexity of his thoughts, to have -entered with enjoyment upon any festivity or pleasure -requiring exertion either of body or mind; but he was, -quite unconsciously to himself, in the mood idly to view -the little comedy which was enacted more and more freely -before his eyes,—just as in seasons of deepest grief -and anxiety one may seek mechanical employment for -the eye and relief for the brain in the perusal of a tale -so light that neither the strain of a nerve or a thought, -nor the excitement of pleasure or pain, shall awaken -emotion or burden memory.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Fernando Ruiz was too wily a youth, too courteous, too -kind, to throw off at once the semblance of devotion to a -goddess who had lured him to a shrine that held a divinity -whose charms, in his inconstant sight, so far surpassed -her own that he could not choose but transfer his worship, -even were it but to be disdained and rejected. In the -decorous visits he made to Doña Rita and when they met -at table, he would still sigh and cast despairing glances at -the bridling Rosario, who but that she intercepted others -more fervent still, directed toward the upper end of the -board where Doña Isabel and Chinita sat in lonely state, -would have believed quite true the tale with which her -mother strove to console her,—using such feeble prevarication -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>as is usual in Mexican families when ill news is to -be ultimately communicated, in the fond hope of softening -a blow which doubt and procrastination can but cause to -be the more nervously dreaded. But well was Rosario -convinced that though Ruiz held daily conferences with -her father, and even once or more was honored by a few -moments’ speech with Doña Isabel, it was not of her or of -love that they spoke; and with a philosophic determination -to replace with a more faithful lover the fickle admirer -whom she could cease to love but would never forgive, -the piqued, but lightly wounded damsel began to turn a -shoulder upon the recreant soldier and her smiles upon -the stranger.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ward was perhaps singularly free from vanity, or too -much absorbed to notice the honor paid him; but with a -sense of angry surprise he became aware that Chinita no -longer ignored the existence of the persistent languisher, -who at early morning paced the court in trim riding-suit -of leather, a gay serape thrown negligently over his left -shoulder, his wide-brimmed hat poised at the angle whence -he could see the door of her room open, and Chinita rival -the sun in dazzling his enchanted eyes. At noon he stood -in the self-same spot in gay uniform, from which by some -miraculous process all stain and grime had disappeared; -and not infrequently at evening he reappeared in the -holiday dress of some clerk, who for the time had lent -his jacket of black velvet trimmed with silver buttons, or -his riding-suit of stamped leather and waist-scarf of scarlet -silk, well pleased to fancy he was represented by the -lithe young officer, who filled them with a grace that made -them thenceforth of treble value in the owner’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This masquerade might have continued indefinitely,—for -Ruiz wearied no sooner of changing fine clothes than -of descanting to Ashley of his sudden but undying passion -for the young Chinita, whose fortunes he conceived, as the -favored of Doña Isabel Garcia, would be as brilliant as -her charms,—but that first, one by one, then in twos and -threes, in tens and dozens, men flocked into the adjacent -villages; and though reluctant to be torn from gentler -pursuits, yet proud to form and command a regiment, the -young adventurer was set the task of bringing order -out of the wild and discordant elements,—a task for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>which the training of his life, and his peculiar knowledge -of the material with which he had to work, more fitted -him than any especial talent, however brilliant, in the -conduct of ordinary military affairs would have done.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young officer’s vanity was flattered, for in some -occult way the responsibility of the spontaneous rally was -thrown upon his shoulders, and he became the central -figure in a movement which within a few days assumed a -picturesque and imposing character. He himself assumed -that the magic of his name had called from their rocky -lairs these mountain banditti, these sturdy vaqueros, these -apathetic but resolute rancheros who trooped in, bringing -with them rusty carbines and shotguns, and sometimes -polished Henry and Sharp’s rifles, which the enterprise of -speculative Americans had introduced into the country. -There was no choice of weapons, but every one brought -something,—a silver-mounted pistol, worthless as pretentious, -or a strong and formidable short-sword, or -glittering curved sabre, forged in some mountain or -village smithy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It seemed too that by mere force of will money came into -the captain’s hands, and that clothing, horses, and provisions -were thus brought forth from the stores and fields -of Tres Hermanos; that plans were laid, and adverse -possibilities provided against, a way marked out and -guides provided; and that he suddenly found himself at -the head of a force more fully equipped than any he had -before beheld,—men eager for adventure and battle, and -clamorous to be led to join the forces of Gonzales, who -while the cause with which he sympathized was meeting -bloody reverses around the City of Mexico in which the -Clerical forces were concentrated, was daily attracting in -the interior formidable additions to the numbers of the -Liberals. The tales of Conservative despotism and barbarity, -which later investigations proved to have been well -founded, aided much in influencing the masses to seek -a change of evils, even where hopeless of any lasting -benefit from the new condition of affairs which it was -proposed to inaugurate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A people who had for generations found in changes of -government simply fresh despotisms and encroachments -were not likely to be as enthusiastic in discussion as mad -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>for action,—for crushing and destroying the old, and -seizing upon all available booty, not as necessary to the -success of their cause, but as a despoilment of the enemy. -And upon this principle it within a few days happened -that Tres Hermanos presented more the appearance of a -forced than a voluntary contributor to the military necessities -of the time. Not only the common soldiers but -those who were to lead them,—most of them men as -skilled in ordering the sacking of a hacienda as in defending -a mountain pass or assaulting some unwary town,—had -poured in and filled every vacant nook in the village -huts, and occupied the long-deserted reduction-works and -the ruinous huts along the watercourse, and overran the -courts and yards of the great house itself.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The great conical storehouses of small grains and corn -were opened and the mill invaded by the soldiers, who -under the half-reluctant directions of the skilled workmen -kept the somewhat primitive machinery in constant motion,—varying -their employment by breaking the half-wild -horses brought in from the wide pastures and talking -love to the village girls, who in all their lives had never -before beheld a holiday-making half so delightful.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The long-closed church too was thrown open, and a -priest from the next village was busied all day long -shriving the sins of those whom he shrewdly suspected -were ready to raise the standard of revolt against the -temporal rule of the Church, whose ghostly powers had -overshadowed earth with the terrors of its supernatural -dominion.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz had gained a certain fame, more as a reflection -from that of the man with whom he had been associated -than from any daring episodes in his own career; and -he actually possessed a military training that ordinarily -well filled the place of innate genius, and at other times -counterfeited it. He had impressed Don Rafael as a man -well suited, if hedged with precautions, to lead the forces -that his representations induced Doña Isabel to send to -the relief of her favorite Gonzales. A leader of more -positive aspirations and declared opinions than Ruiz manifested, -would not so happily have welded and moulded -men of such diverse and conflicting elements,—men who, -accustomed to the freedom of guerilla warfare, were more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>ready to be led by the glitter than the substance of authority. -A man of straw, who though answering a purpose -for the time could create no diversion of devotion to his -own person in detriment to the supremacy of Gonzales, -was sought and found in Ruiz. He was indeed the -simple tool of Doña Isabel Garcia, manipulated by her -administrador, yet so skilfully that he came to think himself -the moving power which from an isolated farmhouse -had within a few days changed Los Tres Hermanos into -a military camp.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In proportion with the importance of the position into -which Ruiz was forced his love and daring grew, and he -remembered that many men of family as obscure, and -certainly of less tact and talent than he, had crowned their -fortunes by marriage with beautiful daughters of rich -houses; and he even began to reflect with some dissatisfaction -upon Chinita’s doubtful status, although a few -days before he had despaired of rising to a height where -he might dare so much as touch the hand of Doña Isabel’s -favored <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i>.</p> - -<p class='c001'>These changes of feeling were watched from day to day -with amusement by Ashley Ward, and with rage by Pepé, -as with despair he saw himself fading completely from the -horizon of Chinita’s life, and a new and dazzling star rising -upon her view. More than once Ashley Ward saw him -nervously fingering the knife in his belt, as the unconscious -Ruiz stood by the fountain in the moonlight and strummed -the strings of a bandoline, and in the shrill tenor which -seems the natural vehicle of such weird strains sang the -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">paloma</span></i>, “the Dove,” or <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Te amo</span></i>, “I love thee,”—sounds -pleasing in any female ear, though doubtless, thought -Doña Isabel, intended to reach the heart of one particular -fair one; at which she smiled as she imagined this to -be the pretty brown Rosario, while the tender notes in -reality appealed not quite in vain to the girl who with a -remarkable semblance of patience shared the seclusion -of her own life.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Once only had Chinita rebelled, and that was when, -instead of her usual ramble in the garden with Feliz or -Doña Isabel herself, she had asked to be driven through -the village, past the reduction-works, that she might see -the preparations of which the distant sounds reached her. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>She would not be appeased at Doña Isabel’s refusal, even -by the suggestion that she should stand upon the balcony -of the central window, whence she could overlook the -scene for miles; and so contrary was her humor that -Doña Isabel was glad to agree to her sudden fancy that -her old playfellow Pepé should be allowed to describe to -her what he had seen. “Men see more than women,” -the wilful girl exclaimed; “he will tell me something -more than of the chickens that are stolen, and the number -of tortillas that are eaten. Ay, Dios! I would I were -a man myself, to be a soldier!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>So toward evening a message brought by Doña Feliz -herself startled the sullen Pepé. Ashley Ward watched the -youth with some curiosity as he sauntered across the court -and ascended the stone stairs. Pepé’s dress that day was -in a Saturday’s state of grime, and at best consisted of a -shabby suit of yellow buckskin, from which the metal buttons -had mostly dropped, and which gaped at the armholes -as widely as at the waistband; and his leathern sandals -and sombrero of woven grass showed signs of age, corresponding -to that of the ragged blanket he wore with such -an air that he might have been taken for the very king of -idle loungers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel glanced up at him as he muttered the customary -salutation, uncovering his shock of black hair and -inclining his head to her, while his black eyes furtively -sought Chinita. There was nothing in his appearance for -the most careful duenna to fear, and although Doña Isabel -remembered that a few weeks ago those two had been -equals, they now seemed as widely sundered as the poles; -and knowing the prolixity with which the ordinary ranchero -usually approached and gave his views upon any -subject, she withdrew to the lower end of the gallery, -where she might count her beads or con her thoughts -undisturbed. The murmur of voices reached her with -sufficient distinctness for her to know that the usual process -of minute questioning and tantalizing indefiniteness -of answer was in progress; and at length, soothed by the -warm still air, the low song of a bird in the orange-tree -which exhaled a sweet and heavy odor, and the habitual -absorption of her own reflections, she failed to notice that -the murmur of the voices grew less and less distinct, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>and indeed blended faintly with the low medley of sounds -peculiar to the coming eveningtide.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Pepé,” Chinita was saying then, in a tone a little -above a whisper, “tell me, is it true that this Don Fernando -Ruiz, who for love of Rosario, and to please Don -Rafael and Doña Isabel, is to lead these recruits to join -Don Gonzales,—tell me, is it true that he was the associate -of that Ramirez who was here so many years ago?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is likely,” answered Pepé, sullenly. “I have heard -that he is Ramirez’s godson; and what more likely,” he -added in an undertone, “than that the Devil should stand -sponsor for an imp of his own blackness?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“In that case,” said Chinita, sharply, “it is impossible -Ruiz has pronounced against him. Who ever heard of a -godchild drawing sword against his sponsor? It should be -against his father or brother rather. Go to, Pepé, you -and I know nothing of Puro or Mocho. Bah! they know -not the difference one from the other themselves; but we -do know Ramirez and Gonzales, and it is the first that I -love. What are you frowning at, Pepé? Oh! oh! oh! -you are jealous, as you used to be of Pancho and Juan -and Gabriel! What an idea! Ha! ha! ha!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Why do you laugh so loudly?” asked Doña Isabel -across the corridor, not displeased to see her merry.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Because he was telling me how the Tia Gomesinda -broke the jar over the shoulders of the brave recruit who -drained it of her last boiling of corn gruel,” answered -Chinita, readily. “But excuse me, Señora, I will not -disturb you again;” and she turned with a conciliatory -smile toward Pepé, who was regarding her with an expression -of malignant idolatry,—if such an extravagant -phrase may be coined, to indicate a love which was capable -of destroying, but never of renouncing, its object.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thou art more unmannerly and more easily vexed -than when thou usedst to follow me through the corn and -bean fields, bending under the loads of wild fruit and -flowers I piled upon thee, and then throwing them down -some stony ravine because of one sharp word I would give -thee. How canst thou expect ever to be aught but a -poor ranchero, with a temper so unreasonable?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And what if I were as patient as Saint Stephen himself, -what would it matter? Thou wouldst not love me,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>answered the young man. “And what care I whether I -am poor or rich, ranchero or soldier? It is all one now -that thou art with Doña Isabel. Why, if thou wert her -child she could not be more choice of thee. Those who -ate from the same plate and drank from the same bowl -with thee are less than the dogs who followed thee;” and -he would have kicked, had it been near enough, the cur -which had been Pedro’s, and which like many others had -the undisputed right to the corridor, and with patient -obstinacy chose to lie at Chinita’s door.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young girl looked up with a tantalizing smile. She -had been used to these speeches of covert jealousy, which -she feigned to take as the envy of an ill-mannered ranchero. -“Pshaw!” she said gazing at him through her half-closed -lids, and yet from beneath the long lashes that veiled them -casting a languorous though wholly unstudied glance, -which dazzled and thrilled him, “‘friends, bacon, and -wine should be old!’ What friend like an old friend? -He is better than a new-found relation. It is he who -will do a bidding and ask no reason for it; it is he—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What can I do for thee?” whispered Pepé, hoarsely. -“Tell me, and thou shalt see whether I am a friend or no; -and then Chinita thou wilt—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Sh-h!” interrupted Chinita, her finger again on her -lip. “What does it matter to me who wins or loses in -these senseless battles? Yet I wonder thou art not with -Pedro; I would not have him sick or wounded, and alone,” -and her eyes filled with tears. Pepé moved from foot to -foot, and rubbed his shoulder against the wall uneasily. -There was a covert reproach in her tone which he resented, -and yet it pleased him too that she should be -troubled: if Pedro were remembered, he could not himself -be wholly forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is not my fault,” he muttered: “he stole away in -the night. Some say after all he has not gone to Gonzales, -and that the men who are gathered here may find themselves -led to Ramirez. At any rate this Ruiz—who you -say loves Rosario, but who sighs like a furnace when his -eye lights on you, and who has worn away the post of his -door writing verses to your praise with the point of his -rapier—should be but little to be trusted.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah!” ejaculated Chinita, “I do not think thou lovest -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>him, Pepito. Thou wouldst not that he should do me a -favor instead of thyself?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I would see him choked first with the wine in which -he drinks a toast to thine eyes,” answered Pepé, hotly. -“Señor Don ’Guardo and I are in the same mind about -that; but it is not that he thinks thee a beauty,” he -added hastily.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita flushed and tossed her head proudly. “What -matters it what Don ’Guardo thinks?” she said. “There -could be nothing but ill luck in the favor of a man like that. -Hast thou shown him the grave of the other American? -Ah, thou must know where to find it. Didst thou think -I did not see thee following me behind the tuñas and -bushes the day I found it after I had bidden thee go back? -Thou wert like Negrito there. Come here, Negrito; thou -art lean and black, but I love thee;” and she stooped to -pat the slinking cur. “Ah, ah! Pepito, it would be a -good jest if thou wouldst show Don ’Guardo the American’s -grave, and tell him Chinita bids him beware of the -same fortune.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“He would think thee a gypsy more than ever, and a -saucy one,” answered Pepé. “But I know this is not the -favor thou wouldst ask of me. Thou art thinking ever of -Ramirez, who bewitched thee. Ask it of the Captain Ruiz -rather than me. I would die for thee, but I see not how -I can serve thee by turning traitor.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita started up angrily. “Am I a false-hearted wretch -to ask it of thee?” she cried furiously, though in a low -voice. “Ramirez fights for the side of right. Is it his -fault if the Clergy are right to-day and the Liberals tomorrow? -Were not he and Gonzales upon the same side -when they were here years ago? Were not his men crying -‘<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Dios y Libertad!</span></i>’ when they passed here six months ago? -And suppose the cry is changed. Bah! with Doña Isabel’s -men he would be of Doña Isabel’s opinion! What does it -matter to him? He is a man to fight, not to sit down like -Don Rafael and the major-domo, old Don Tomas, and -talk, talk, talk!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“That is very well,” said Pepé, staidly; “but why do -you not tell this all to Doña Isabel? Or listen, now: to -please thee I will seek Pedro,—I warrant me he is not so -far away,—and I will tell him how thou wouldst have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>Ramirez rather than Gonzales to lead the troops; if it -matters not to him, <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">cierto</span></i> it will not to me! But I tell -thee frankly I would be of those who would pull down -rather than build up churches. I see no gain to be had -in fighting for the Señores the bishops, who have so much -already that the poor man can have nothing but leave -to fast while the priests revel in plenty. Go to, Chinita! -thou hast heard Pedro talk of freedom as much as I have. -If Don Benito Juarez and Don Vicente and the rest of -them gain the day, I—why I might be an alcalde myself, -or a general; and then—well, anything thou wilt!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita laughed and nodded at him. “It is the Señor -Ramirez who could bring about all that,” she said with -conviction; “and, Pepé, though thou dost not love the -Captain Ruiz, thou shalt take him that message from Chinita. -Yes, yes! go thy way quietly to Pedro, and if there -is treason, Ruiz shall work it. So the General Ramirez -shall be brought over to our side, and Ruiz shall be the -only man who will be blamed, if Doña Isabel is vexed.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé shook his head doubtfully. His views were no -clearer than Chinita’s, but they were not additionally obscured -by an unreasoning enthusiasm for a self-created -hero. Doña Isabel was rising from her chair; the rattle -of the wood upon the bricks startled the two speakers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“How goes it with thy sister Juana?” asked Chinita, -lightly. “She told me once she loved Gabriel because, -though he was old and ugly, he would do more to please -her than all the young and handsome lovers. Are they -happy, do you think, or has he beaten her already, as I -said he would?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé looked at her keenly and with an expression of wild -hope from behind the wide hat he was holding in both -hands before his face, in awkward preparation for departure. -Would Chinita too marry the man who would please -her? And after all it was but a little thing,—just a hint to -the man whose admiration she jeered at.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thou canst go now, Pepé,” said Doña Isabel, approaching. -“I am sure the Señorita has heard enough of -the wild doings of these mad soldiers. Thank Heaven, -they leave us soon! Ah, now that I think of it, thou -mayst say to the Señor Americano that Captain Ruiz told -me to-day he would gladly give him safe escort as far upon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>their way as their roads may lie together; and—but I forgot, -such messages are not for thee. I will send them by -the Señor Administrador.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé muttered his adieus and bowed himself away in -some confusion. Chinita looked after him meaningly; he -caught her glance and then the motion of her lips. His -heart beat wildly; they formed the refrain of a popular -song,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Adios, my dearest love!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Pepé reached the court quite dizzy. Ashley Ward and -Captain Ruiz were both waiting for him. His excitement -had reached a crisis. He seized Ruiz by the arm. “If -you would please her,” he hissed in his ear, “find Ramirez, -and let him, and not Gonzales, lead the troops.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You are drunk!” answered Ruiz; yet he clutched the -youth by the arm, and led him into his room.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé came to his senses with the shock as he sank upon -a stone bench against the cold, hard wall. Presently he -gave a brief account of Chinita’s desires and reasons. -Ruiz listened without a smile. Childish and unprincipled -as they were, they were not more so than scores he had -heard discussed in the course of the years of anarchy in -which he had entered upon manhood. Find Ramirez, -pledge him to the Liberal cause, leave it to him to gain -such an ascendency over the troops that they would themselves -proclaim him their leader! It was an easy task. -It set him thinking, and Pepé slunk away to hope, to -doubt, to despair, to hope again.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c009'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Adios, my dearest love!”—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>just the refrain of a song, yet it pursued and bewildered -him. For less, stronger men than Pepé the ranchero have -committed unimaginable crimes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The next morning when they met in the court, Captain -Ruiz stopped Pepé. “Tell her her wishes are law to me!” -he said. “If she but love me, I—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i>” cried Pepé, savagely. “Am I an old -woman or a priest that I should carry your messages? -She love you! she would needs have been born to lead -apes, to love you.” And Pepé flung himself off in a rage, -while the astounded Ruiz gazed after him in open-mouthed -amazement.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>“By my life, he loves her himself!” he muttered vacantly. -“Señor Don ’Guardo, heard you ever such presumption? -The bare-skin beggar loves the favorite—what -shall we say?—niece of Doña Isabel!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let us say you are both fools!” said Don ’Guardo -in good round English and with a sudden rage, the motive -of which was to himself inexplicable; and the discomfited -captain bowed, not doubting that his own expression -of disgust had been echoed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> a woman so beautiful gazed at by every -beggar, like an image of the Virgin of Remedios carried in -procession! I swear I will not forget thee, Pepito, and -will keep a close eye on thee, now I know thou hast been -tampered with!” continued Ruiz, hotly. “A word to the -General Gonzales will be enough if he is of my mind!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>That day, in spite of Doña Isabel’s diligence, a pink note -found its way to Chinita. “Good!” she said after reading -it, “My General Ramirez will have the men; the -Señor Gonzales will be helped, and Doña Isabel will do a -double good. This is not so bad a subject,—this Ruiz; -and his eyes are as black and large as those of Ramirez -himself. All is well. All things will come right at last. -Ah, if only what Don Rafael told Feliz one night should -come true, and the convents are opened, then—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She paused. It seemed too utterly impossible even to -dream of. She looked again at her first love-letter; a -twinge of remorse seized her as she thought of Rosario. -She laughed, but she tore the paper into infinitesimal -shreds.</p> - -<p class='c001'>What was the writer thinking? “Onward! I have gone -too far to turn back even at the word of Chinita. A -promise will gain her love, but the essential thing is the -good-will of Doña Isabel. ‘A pearl is all the better for a -golden setting!’ No treaties then with Ramirez. Though -he is my godfather, I need not his patronage. Doña Isabel, -a straight path, and Juarez! Forward! Ruiz, fortune -favors you!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>A few days later the troops had left Tres Hermanos, -and Ashley Ward stood in the silent graveyard on the -mountain side, pushing back with his foot the loose sand -his tread had disturbed, as it threatened again and again -to cover the rude wooden cross upon which his eyes were -fixed. It bore the name of his murdered cousin, faint -yet distinct, preserved by the sand, for the wind had soon -prostrated it after Chinita’s shallow replanting. The words -seemed to Ashley to call to him aloud from the dust of his -kinsman; in the hot sunshine their spell was as potent -as though a ghostly voice had spoken at midnight. For -the first time, something more intense than the desire to -satisfy conscience by proving that he wronged no rightful -heir in entering upon property which would have been -John Ashley’s had he lived, arose in his mind. The absolute -reality of his cousin’s death for the first time seemed -to become an overwhelming conviction; and with it came -memories of the young and daring man whom he had in -childhood held in wondering admiration. And as he stood -within sight of the spot where the brilliant young life had -ended in a bloody tragedy, a deep wave of sorrow surged -over his soul, and from its depths, as from the loose sands -of the wind-levelled grave, appeared to rise a cry for -vengeance.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Though not till now had Chinita’s charge that he be -taken to the American’s grave been carried out, the message -from Doña Isabel, which Pepé had not failed to deliver, -had reached him some days before, and had been -supplemented by a visit from Don Rafael. Although a -certain fascination had inclined Ashley to linger still at -Tres Hermanos, he had so little hope of adding to the -information he had already gained of his cousin’s life,—there -seemed so little possibility that the marriage which -John Ashley had intimated had taken place, could ever -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>have been more than a mere sentimental dedication of the -lovers one to the other, in which they deemed themselves -man and wife in the sight of God, but which in the sight -of man was a mere illicit connection, to be condemned -or ignored,—that he had not dared to present himself -before the haughty mother of the one Herlinda whom he -suspected to have been the object of his cousin’s passion, -and to insult her with questions or insinuations that would -cast a doubt upon her daughter’s purity and a stain upon -the fame of the house of Garcia, which even the blood of -John Ashley and his own added thereto would be insufficient -to wash away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young man had decided then to accept the order of -dismissal, so delicately conveyed in the intimation that -by accepting the escort of the troops as far as they might -proceed toward Guanapila, he would not only reach a point -whence in all probability he might in safety proceed to -that city, but that he would thus render a favor to Doña -Isabel, who was minded by the same opportunity to withdraw -from the hacienda,—her presence there being liable -to act as a lure to either party, who might after seizing -her person levy a ransom upon the family which even their -large resources would be severely strained to meet.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Although the fiction was maintained that her assistance -of the Liberal cause was involuntary, it was readily surmised -that Doña Isabel Garcia was in reality seeking to -avoid the vengeance of the Conservatives, while their -forces were so demoralized and scattered that she might -hope to reach Guanapila, which was then occupied by a -patriot guard, before the tide of the war should turn and -bring the army of the Church again to the fore en masse,—collected -by the clarion cry of fanaticism, and lavishly -rewarded from the hoards of silver and gold drawn from -the vaults into which for generations had been drained the -prosperity and the very life-blood of the peasantry.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley Ward had been struck with admiration of the -woman who thus dared the dangers of the road,—to -which she had been no stranger. He had felt something of -the chivalrous enthusiasm of a knight of old, as he joined -the irregular band which by daylight had gathered upon -the sandy plain before the straggling village. The soldiers -had fallen into march with something like order, with Ruiz -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>at their head,—for once with an anxious face, for he felt -that the die was cast, and that he had raised up for himself -an enemy whom it would be mad temerity to face, -and hopeless to attempt to conciliate. The baggage-mules -were driven by the leathern-clad muleteers, who even thus -early had begun their profane adjurations to the nimble-footed -beasts, that listened with quivering ears thrown -back in obstinate surprise at every unwonted silence. The -women who had come from other villages had laughed -and chided their unruly infants, as they arranged and rearranged -their baskets of maize and vegetables upon the -panniers of their donkeys, if they were fortunate enough -to possess any, or upon their own shoulders if they -were to walk; and those who were for the first time leaving -their birthplace to follow the fortunes of husband or -sweetheart, had burst into loud lamentations. Ashley had -been glad to find these changed to laughter, however, -before they were well past the broken wall of the reduction-works; -which they skirted, entering upon the bridle-path -which led across the hill, where the rough heaps of -sand showed through the scattered cacti, and where, by -the rude wooden crosses, he now for the first time learned -lay the village graveyard.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé had ridden sullenly by his side. He had been -sent back with a sharp reprimand from the station he had -taken among the mounted servants who surrounded the -carriage of Doña Isabel, Ruiz in petty tyranny refusing -him so honorable a place. A glance from Chinita had -been the deepest reproof of all; and as he pondered upon -it, certain words which she had uttered, and which he -had hitherto forgotten, had come into his mind. As they -neared the graveyard his eye caught Ward’s, and suddenly -laying his hand upon the bridle of the American’s horse, -he had muttered,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señor, she thinks I have forgotten all her wishes; but -there is not even one so foolish that I scorn it. Turn aside -but for a moment, Señor,—here where the adobe has -fallen, your horse can scramble through the wall. Follow -me, they will not miss us before we can reach our places -again. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> Don Fernando watches me as a cat -watches a mouse. Here, Señor,—never mind the women. -Stupids! how they herd their donkeys together, when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>they might have the whole hillside to pick their own paths -on! Patience! Let us wait a little, Señor! Ah,” he -reflected, as they remained silent and motionless, “there -is the spot. I have never forgotten it since I followed -her through the rushes down there by the stream, and -scratched my face in the tuñas, darting behind them that -she should not see me. I was not half so tired as Chinita -was though, when she sat down to rub sand upon her -smarting hands, and fell asleep with the sun beating -upon her head. I wonder if she ever thought it was I -who covered her face with her ragged reboso,—she wears -one of silk now, as clean and soft as a dove’s breast,—or -that I lay behind the big pipes of the flowering -organ-plant as she turned over the fallen cross which her -hand struck against, and read the name and age of the -American who had been murdered years before? Who -ever would have thought—for I hated her then if I did -follow her, as she maddens me now with her soft eyes -and her mocking smile—that I should be bringing here -the man who perhaps is just the handsome, woman-maddening -demon they say that other was, and at her will too? -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ave Maria Purissima!</span></i> what God wills the very saints -themselves may not say No to,—much less a poor -peasant like Pepé Ortiz.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>These thoughts, perhaps scarcely in the order in which -they are set down, passed through the mind of Pepé, as -lingering until the straggling procession had passed, he -emerged from the shade of such an organ-plant as had -once sheltered him years ago, and taking his bearings -with unerring eyes, beckoned to Ashley,—who had waited -within touch of his hand, and whose heart had begun to -beat suffocatingly, though he knew that it was utterly -improbable that anything more important than the mound -that covered the body of his cousin would meet his eye,—and -led the way to the most wind-swept and desolate -portion of that paupers’ acre, and presently stooping -where the ground was sunken rather than heaped, turned -with some effort the half-buried cross, and exposed to -Ashley’s view the name from which his own had been -derived.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young man gazed at it in a sort of fascination, -actually spelling the letters over and over. He felt as if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>a part of himself must be buried there. His eyes burned; -the glaring sunshine leaped and quivered above the ill-carved -letters, distorting and confounding them. His -heart beat violently; every sense but that of hearing -seemed to fail him, and every sound upon the air became -a weird, mysterious voice,—blood crying unto its kindred -blood.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This deep emotion fixed the indifferent and wandering -eye of Pepé, who, holding the bridles of the horses, stood -near, impatient to be gone, yet intending to watch out -of sight the last stragglers; for it was with a double purpose -he had turned aside to point out the grave of the American,—first, -perhaps, to gratify the seemingly jesting wish -of Chinita; and then to seize the opportunity to turn -his fleet steed into the narrow bridle-path which led to -mountain villages, where he shrewdly suspected Pedro -might be found, or at least be heard of. He had promised -to carry the message of Chinita to Pedro, and would have -set forth upon the very night she had charged him -with it, but until mounted by Ruiz’s command had found -it impossible to provide himself with a horse, without -which it was hopeless for him to attempt his quest. To -escape the discipline of the ranks, he had induced Ashley -to retain him as his servant, feeling no scruple at his intended -abandonment. As his eye rested upon the pale -and excited countenance of Ashley, Chinita’s words, with -which she had bade him taunt him, flashed into his mind; -yet he forbore to utter them, saying presently in a tone of -concern,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let us go now, Señor, it is growing hot. It is almost -noon, and you are faint. Let us ride on, and I will point -out the way that you must take when we have crossed the -face of the hill. Then comes a slight descent, Señor, and -upon the little plain that lies between that and the cañon -of the Water-pots will the troop stop for the nooning. This -has been a rapid march. Doña Isabel will feel all the -safer when she is once on the highway. But as for us, -Señor, we must part company. You will find a better -servant; I should but ill serve your grace. You know -yourself I am but a stupid fellow, and it is only the patience -of your grace that has been equal to my ignorance.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley heard neither the excuses of Pepé nor his own -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>praises, but with a gesture at once commanding and entreating -the servant to leave him, said: “Pepé, I had -forgotten. There is something which will keep me still at -Tres Hermanos. The Señora Doña Isabel must pardon -me. Go! go to your duty, as I must to mine. God! how -could I have forgotten it? Oh John, John! does time and -distance make men so unnatural? Is it possible I could -leave the place where you were so foully murdered, without -knowing why or by whom? Who killed him, and why -was the deadly and secret blow struck? Ah, that involves -the question of the very mystery I came here to fathom, -and which I was turning my back upon; for I am convinced -that it is here, and not by following Doña Isabel -Garcia, that it may be solved. She is too resolute, too -astute; nothing is to be forced or beguiled from her lips! -But now that the spell of her presence is removed, I may -learn everything from these people, who with all their cunning -and clannish devotion can surely be influenced by -reasons such as I can give.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Who would have guessed the sight of a grave would -so stir the blood?” soliloquized Pepé. “Can it be that -Chinita—But no, she was more in jest than earnest; she -always laughed at the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Chata for her sorrow for the -foreigner.—Well, all must die!” he said aloud. “Believe -me, Señor, after all these years a knife-thrust is a little -matter to inquire into. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> Chinita herself would -tell you that to turn back on a journey because of the dead -is an omen of evil; ’twas not for that she would have -me show you the grave of your countryman,—God rest -him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley looked at him keenly. “Ah,” he said, “it is -then no accident that you have brought me here? God! -what a mystery! Pepé, tell Chinita I know her thoughts, -and that I never will rest till I prove them right or -wrong. She is a strange creature, and likely to prove -an enigma to more men than myself. Poor lad, she is -not for you to dream of.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will not see her again till I can tell her that which -shall please her,” said Pepé. “Look you, Señor, she is -one who will have the world turn to suit her.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“A wilful girl,” thought Ashley, with judicial disapproval. -“She has all the craftiness and deceit of the Indian -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>and the pride and passion of a Spaniard; yet what if -I should follow her? No, no! mere circumstance and -conjecture shall not turn me!—<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Adios</span></i>, Pepé,” he said -aloud, “and beware! It is Doña Isabel you serve, and -not the young girl who has bewitched you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé smiled vaguely; his glance roved over the landscape. -“Her heart is virgin honey in a cup of alabaster!” -he murmured. Ashley was becoming accustomed to the -poetic expressions of these unlettered rancheros, and with -some impatience took in his own hand the bridle-rein of -his horse, and reminding Pepé that it was nearly noon, -and that he would be missed should he longer delay, bade -him mount and hasten with messages of excuse to Doña -Isabel for his own sudden return to Tres Hermanos.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With the customary apparent submission of a peasant, -Pepé prepared to obey. He was in fact anxious to set -forth as soon as he could be certain that no straggler was -near to mark his movements. The troops and their followers -had disappeared. “The Señor Don ’Guardo should -leave this solitary spot on the instant,” he said with genuine -concern; “in these days of revolution, one can never -say what dangerous people may be wandering abroad.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I have nothing to fear from them,” answered Ashley, -“unless it should be that they might attempt to rob me -of the horse Doña Isabel has lent me. Well, for its -sake, I will be prudent; though in truth the sight of a -ghost in this desolate spot of sunken graves would seem -more probable than that any living being should pass here. -Now, then, good-by, Pepé.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Until our next meeting, Señor!” replied Pepé, gravely -lifting his hat. He had attached himself to Ashley, and it -seemed to him an evil omen that they should part at a -grave, and he thus attempted to console himself by the -pretence that it was but for a little while. “For a short -time Señor, and God keep you!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley shook his hand warmly. The ranchero drew his -hat over his eyes, adjusted his serape so that his face was -almost hidden, and dropping into that utterly ungraceful -posture into which the skilled horseman of Mexico relapses -when he suffers his steed to take his own way and pace -across a wearisome stretch of country, he turned his horse’s -head toward the bridle-path they had left, and slowly receded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>from Ashley’s gaze. Once however beyond the crest -of the hill, the rider’s eye brightened, his figure straightened; -a distant sound of voices reached his keen ear,—it -was so remote that but for the rarity of the atmosphere -it would have failed to reach him. Bending his head, he -listened intently for a moment; then raising it he gazed -searchingly on every hand, rode for a short distance to the -right, guided his nimble-footed beast down the cleft sides -of a deep ravine and along the dry bottom of a rock-strewn -path, which rapid floods had in some past time cut -in their fierce descent from the steep sides of the frowning -mountains, and so gradually gained the dark and solitary -defiles that led directly to those eyries of bandit mountaineers, -who under the guise of shepherds, charcoal-burners, -and goat-herds had been, as Pepé well knew, the -chosen comrades of Pedro Gomez and his mates in the -boyhood days of that Don Leon whose wild deeds were -still the theme of many a tale, and like the story of his -death became more mythical with every repetition.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé rode steadily on for hours, picturing to himself his -meeting with Pedro should he find him, or the quiet exultation -of Chinita when she should hear that he had deserted -the troops, or of the return of Don ’Guardo to the hacienda. -In his heart he was not displeased that the American -should be separated from Chinita, though it left her -the more completely to the gallant care of Ruiz. He had -comprehended instantly the emotion which had seized -upon Ashley at his kinsman’s grave,—the instinct for -revenge. He said to himself that those Americans, after -all, were people of sensibility, and he felt a certain satisfaction -that he had been the instrument of calling into -action a sentiment that did the foreigner so much -credit.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile the heat of noon passed, and Ashley’s horse -stood with patient dejection in the shadow of the huge -cactus to which he had been tethered, not even taking -advantage of the freedom allowed by the length of the -rope, so little temptation to browse was offered by the -sparse and coarse tufts of herbage which struggled into -existence here and there. The time wore on, and an occasional -stamp attested his disapprobation of a master -who lay prone upon the ground under a mesquite tree -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>when the sun shone hottest, and who when the cool breeze -of afternoon swept over the silent spot, stood long and -still beside the grave he had not sought, and yet felt -infinite reluctance to leave.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was a foolish thought, but as he gazed across the -broad valley to the great square of buildings set among -the fields, the youth imagined how indeed the dead man -might at times steal forth to visit again those fertile -scenes where he had lived and loved. As he stood there, -Ashley could see the people like pigmies passing in and -out the great gateway, or going from hut to hut in the -village. There was one figure—it seemed that of a -woman—which his eye sought from time to time, as it -appeared and disappeared in the corn and bean fields, and -at last came out on the open road that lay between them -and the reduction-works. He was becoming quite fascinated -by its hesitating yet persistent progress, when he -was startled by a sound; and glancing up, he saw a man -leaning upon the crumbling wall and regarding him with -a gaze so bewildered, so fixed, that involuntarily he -moved a step toward him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The stranger started, as if some frightful spell had been -broken. Ashley saw that he crossed himself, and muttered -some invocation; yet that he had not the look of a -nervous man or a coward, but rather of a somnambulist -pacing the earth under the impulse of some horrible -dream. The man was not ill-looking,—no, decidedly -not; and though his skin was deeply browned as if from -much exposure, and his cheek bones were prominent, -giving his face a certain cast below the eyes that was -plebeian or Indian in character, the eyes themselves were -dilated and brilliant, and the straight nose and pointed -beard gave him the air of a Spanish cavalier, though he -wore the broad sombrero and serape of a common soldier -of the rural order. Perhaps on ordinary occasions even a -more practised eye than that of Ashley Ward would have -accepted the stranger for what he purported to be; but -the American with an extraordinary feeling of repulsion -little accounted for by the mere sense of intrusion caused -by the man’s unexpected appearance, at once leaped to the -conclusion that his dress—though he had no appearance -of strangeness in it—was virtually a disguise, and that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>instead of a soldier of the ranks, the man before him was -of no ordinary position or character.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The new-comer seemed to have risen out of the ground, -so stealthily had he approached. It would have been -quite possible for him, tall as he was, to have skirted the -wall without observation from any one within the enclosure. -But undoubtedly he had taken no precaution in -that solitary place, which except at funeral times was -shunned as the haunt of ghosts and ill-omened birds and -reptiles, and thus had come unexpectedly upon the motionless -figure of the tall young man clothed in a plain riding-suit -of black, with bright conspicuous locks at the moment -uncovered, and fair-skinned face of a characteristic American -type,—all unremarkable in themselves but associated -in the mind of the observer with one whom he had seen -but twice or thrice, and this on the mad night when the -moon had shone down upon a victim quivering in the -death-agony above which he had exulted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The two men held each the other’s gaze in silence for a -full minute, both unmindful of the common courtesy usual -in such chance encounters in solitary places. Then recovering -from the superstitious awe which had overpowered -him, the Mexican stepped over the broken wall. -Ashley noticed as he did so that heavy silver spurs were on -his heels, and that the fringed sides of his leathern trousers -were stained as though with hard riding, and that, as -if from habit, rather than any purpose of menace, his nervous -hand closed upon the pistol in his scarlet band, as -with a few long strides he reached the spot on which -Ashley stood with that air of defiance which a sudden intrusion -upon a solitude however secure naturally arouses -in a man who is neither a coward nor an adept in the -self-command that is perhaps the most perfect substitute -for invincible courage.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señor,” said the Mexican, “your pistols are on your -saddle. You are right; this is an evil habit to wear -them so readily at one’s side. Pardon me if in my surprise -I assumed an attitude of menace; but these are -troublous times. One scarcely expects to find a cavalier -alone in such a place.” He looked around him with a -smile, which did not hinder a quiver of the lip expressing -an excitement which his commonplace words denied.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>Ashley regarded the speaker with ever increasing repugnance. -It was true his pistols hung from the saddle, but -there was a small knife in his belt, and his hand wandered -to it stealthily as he answered: “Señor, I make no -inquiry why you are here, and on foot,—which you must -acknowledge might well cause some curiosity in this place; -but in all courtesy I trust your errand is a happier one -than mine. Whatever it is, I will not intrude upon it -longer than will suffice to plant this cross.” And with an -air of perfect security, yet with his knife in hand, he bent -to the work, which the other regarded with an almost incredulous -gaze,—the preservation of a grave or its tokens -being a sort of sentimentality to which by tradition and -training he was a stranger; and to see it exhibited for the -first time in this God’s acre of laborers, almost sufficed to -dissipate the impression the unexpected encounter had -made upon him. As Ashley quietly pursued his work, -the new-comer had an opportunity to look at him narrowly. -After all, this one was like many another American! Yet -there was something in the young man’s appearance that -brought the sweat to the brow of the soldier; he pushed -back his hat, and breathed hard. As he did so, Ashley -braced the cross against his knee. The action brought -the letters into clear and direct view. The eyes of the -Mexican rested upon them. He fell back a step or two in -superstitious awe, involuntarily exclaiming:</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Cristo!</span></i> was <em>he</em> buried here? And who are you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley glanced up. There was a revelation to him in -the questioner’s disordered and ashy countenance. He -dropped the cross, sprang over the grave, and seized the -stranger by the right arm. “Who are you who ask?” -he cried. “What do you know of the man who is buried -there?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“My faith! you are a brave man to put such questions!” -retorted the new-comer, wrenching himself free. Ashley -had spoken in English, but the violence of his act had -interpreted his words. “Take your pistols and defend -yourself, if you are here for vengeance. Kill him? Yes; -I killed him as I would a dog. Faith, I thought it was -his accursed ghost that had risen to challenge me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I am his cousin! Assassin, give me reasons for your -deed!” cried Ashley, furiously, yet with a remembrance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>that to every criminal should be allowed some chance of -justification.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But the Mexican seemed little inclined to profit by it.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Reasons!” cried he. “Yes, such reasons as I gave -him when I thrust the knife into his heart.” He raised -his pistol and fired. The shot passed so close to Ashley’s -temple that he heard it whiz through the air. In the same -instant the two men clinched. The horse, which during -the controversy had plunged and reared madly, broke -away, and careering over the graves galloped wildly down -the hillside. A fresh horse with its rider at the same instant -dashed into the enclosure, and a voice cried, “For -God’s sake my General! what adventure is this? Mount! -mount! there is no time to be lost!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The combatants at the sound of a third voice had involuntarily -paused. Had the knife in the hand of the -American been in that of the Mexican it would have -sheathed itself in his opponent’s heart; but Ashley, less -ready in its use, arrested his hand midway. His passion -half spent, the scarcely healed wound throbbing in his -shoulder, his strength exhausted, he had much ado to keep -himself from staggering.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“A touch of my sabre would finish him,” said the new-comer -coolly, as he reined in his restive horse, and put -his hand on the long weapon swinging from his saddle. -But the soldier stopped him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No killing in cold blood,” he exclaimed. “’Tis a -madman, but his fury is over. What brings you here, -Reyes? Were you not to wait at the rendezvous?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Wait!” he retorted, “this is no time to wait! We -are already a day too late. A thousand men are on the -road before us, my General! We let them pass us this -morning as we lingered on the opposite side of the mountain -in the Devil’s gate!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And the troops are there still?” cried the other -furiously. “Where is Choolooke? Did you not think to -bring me a horse? Back to the Zahuan, man! We must -begin the march this very night. I know Ruiz; he will -yield in a moment at sight of me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Not he!” answered Reyes. “He has a new patroness; -Doña Isabel herself is with him.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Isabel!” cried the officer with an oath. “Ah, then, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>Tres Hermanos is partisan at last! <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Carrhi!</span></i> my lady -Isabel shall find what she has begun shall be soon ended!” -He put a small silver whistle to his lips and blew a shrill -blast, which was answered by a neigh. A black horse -lifted its head and looked over the wall with a gaze of -almost human intelligence.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“He followed me at a word,” exclaimed Reyes, “and -stood by the wall like a statue when I bade him. Never -was there such another horse as your black Choolooke, -my General. Even the stampede of that unbroken brute -that was tethered here could not startle him.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay, I discipline horses better than I do men,—eh, -Choolooke?” The horse with its jingling accoutrements -had cantered into the enclosure, and with one bound his -owner was in the saddle.</p> - -<p class='c001'>All had passed in the few minutes in which Ashley was -recovering breath, and in utter bewilderment endeavoring -to gain some insight into the meaning of this rapid transformation -scene, of which he himself had formed a part. -As his late opponent sprang into the saddle, he could -have fancied he heard the sound of the bugle, so alert -were the man’s movements, so soldierly his bearing. -But in the midst of his involuntary admiration he did not -forget the extraordinary relations in which they stood -to each other. He threw himself before the horse at the -imminent risk of being trampled down. “Your name!” -he cried. “By your own admission you are my cousin’s -murderer. We must meet again! I am Ashley Ward; -and you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Out of the way!” cried the rider, checking his horse -by a dexterous turn of his hand. “My name? Ah, yes! -Tell them there,” and he nodded in the direction of the -hacienda, “they will soon have reason never to forget it!” -He hesitated; plunged the spurs into his already impatient -steed, and dashed furiously away, followed by -Reyes; then rose in his stirrups to shout back in defiance -the name—“Ramirez!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Ramirez! Ashley’s heart bounded, his brain throbbed -dizzily yet acutely. Here was no obscure assassin, who -once escaping him would perhaps be lost forever.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The name was on every lip with those of Juarez, Ortega, -Degollado, Miramon, and a score of other popular chieftains -who of one party or another, or of independent factions, -attracted to themselves a host of followers, more by -their own personal magnetism than for the sake of any -principles they represented. In that time of anarchy any -head that rose above the common herd led enthusiastic -multitudes, who followed a nod and applauded to the echo -even one deed of daring. But Ramirez held his prestige by -no such recent and uncertain tenure; throughout the long -years of revolution he had been a central figure in the -bloody drama. Even his recent defeat at El Toro and his -subsequent disappearance had added but a fresh glamor of -mystery to his adventurous career, without detracting -from the almost superstitious awe with which he was regarded. -It was believed that he would reappear when and -where least expected. Ashley Ward had smiled covertly -at the strange and daring escapades attributed to this -man. He had become in his mind a figure of romance; -and here in the broad day he had risen before him, the -self-denounced murderer of John Ashley,—and as suddenly -as he had come, so had he escaped him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Thinking no more of the cross, which had fallen upon -the ground, hiding beneath it the name that had been so -long preserved for so strange a purpose, Ashley Ward -turned from the sunken graves and striding across the -mounds, scarred and broken by the sacrilegious tread of -the horses’ feet, stood for a moment upon the broken -wall, scanning the country in his excitement for some sign -of the desperate men who but a few moments before had -urged their restive steeds up the steep path and disappeared -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>over the crest of the hill. He saw his own recreant -steed galloping toward the hacienda walls, keeping -the high-road, on past the reduction-works and the long -stretch of open country beyond, and plunging and rearing -at the fatal mesquite-tree. The superstitious vaqueros -had instinctively imbued their animals with the same irrational -terrors in which they had themselves been trained. -Yet no sight of ghost or smell of blood lingered there to -rouse memory or vengeance. Their waiting-place had been -that long-forgotten grave upon the desolate hillside.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley leaped from the wall and rapidly began the -descent to the valley. The sun was still high in the -heavens, for the scene we have recorded had passed in -less than a brief quarter of an hour. As he walked on, -gradually falling into a more natural pace, the whole -matter took definite form and coherence in his mind. -That which had been so unexpected, so unnatural, seemed -to be the event to which his whole journey to Mexico, -all his wanderings, his strange and wearisome experiences, -had inevitably and naturally tended. And then arose -a point beyond. His work at Tres Hermanos seemed -ended; the primal cause of his being there was forgotten. -The definite thought now in his mind was to reach the -hacienda, provide himself anew with horse, guide, and -arms, and follow on the path which Ramirez had chosen, -and upon which he would sooner or later re-appear, decoyed -by the rich booty that Doña Isabel had intrusted -to the weak and presumably faithless Ruiz. Could he -reach and warn her in time?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley’s scarce-healed wound was throbbing painfully, -the way was long, the heat intense; yet he pressed -on resolutely, though at last he staggered as he went. -He sat down to rest awhile among the dry rushes of the -spent watercourse, under a straggling cottonwood-tree, -the few poor leaves of which scarcely sufficed to shade -him from the fierce rays of the sun. A fever heat was in -his veins; wild theories and speculations passed through -his brain,—some of them, perhaps, not far from being -keys to the mystery of that tragedy which that day for -the first time had become to his mind other than a vague -and gloomy fantasy. Now, like the murderer himself, it -was real, absorbing, appalling.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>The young man rose and again pressed on. After the -descent to the long rude wall of the reduction-works, he -skirted it slowly, thinking as he went how changed the -aspect of the place must be since his cousin had ridden -forth to his death. How proudly John had written, -and almost vauntingly, of the prosperity his management -had inaugurated, of the crowds of laden animals that -passed in and out of the wide gates, of the men who led -their slow, laborious lives among those primitive mills -and wide floors of trodden ores.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley glanced at the great square mass of walls and -towers of Tres Hermanos, glistening in the distance. -To his weary eye it looked far away; yet doubtless he -thought it had been but the ride of a few eager minutes -to the lover, as he went at midnight to cast a glance at -the walls that circled his mistress, or to rein his horse -beneath her window that he might win a word or glance -from her who whispered from above. These, Ashley had -heard, were lovers’ ways in Mexico; he did not know that -no maiden of Tres Hermanos ever occupied one of the -few apartments whose windows opened toward the outer -air. Yet as he debated the matter with himself, it became -more and more probable to him that John Ashley -had upon the fatal night been actually within the walls -of the hacienda, and been stealthily followed thence by -his treacherous rival,—for what, he thought, even to a -Spaniard, could justify so foul a murder but the falseness -of his mistress, the triumph of a hated rival? Pedro’s -taciturnity and gloom Ashley construed as proofs of his -complicity in the crime. Even then Ramirez had been -a chieftain of renown, and Pedro in his youth had been -a soldier, a free rider, of whom strange tales were told. -Was it not probable that he had opened the gate at a -comrade’s bidding,—or, more likely still, had bidden him -wait beneath the tree where the favored lover was wont to -mount his horse, and so take him unawares? Ashley remembered -that such, it had been said, had been the manner -of his cousin’s taking off. He had been slain with the -swiftness and sureness of a secret and unhesitating avenger.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The ardent youth railed at the mocking chances that -had combined to suffer Ramirez to escape him in the unpremeditated -struggle in which they had clinched with a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>deadly enmity. In such a struggle he could have found -himself the victor without remorse, or could have died -without regret; but it was not in his nature to follow a -man for blood. Yet neither could he shut his ears to -that cry for vengeance, for justice, which seemed ringing -through the sultry stillness,—the more importunate as -the possibilities of their attainment shaped themselves in -his mind.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That this must be a personal matter between himself and -Ramirez was clear. At any time it would probably have -been useless for an alien to have denounced so popular and -influential a man as the proud and daring <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">revolucionario</span></i>. -To attempt his arrest for a murder committed years before -and probably in rivalry for a lady’s favor, would be but to -throw a new mystery about him, and add a fresh legend -of romance to those which already made him rather a -character of ideal chivalry than of mere vulgar, every-day -lawlessness and semi-barbarity. Though the brilliant -adventurer was now under a temporary cloud, one threat -of attack from law would make him again a popular idol; -indeed it was likely that a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamiento</span></i> in his favor -would be the immediate result, and that in falling into -his hands the American would lose, if not his life, at least -all opportunity either of obtaining the satisfaction of the -law for his cousin’s death, or of investigating further those -doubts and probabilities which he had forgotten, but which -now came upon him with redoubled force.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The excited Ashley planned in his mind to refresh himself -upon reaching the hacienda, and demanding horse and -guide to set forth upon that very night, hoping to rejoin -the force at daybreak. It was useless, he reflected, to -waste further time in idle questionings. It was to Doña -Isabel herself he would appeal, and warning her of the -danger that threatened her from the bandit chieftain, -induce her to make common cause with him against -one who for years must have been their common enemy. -Impossible was it for him to solve the mystery of the -relations in which the several actors in this strange -drama in which he was so unexpectedly taking part, -stood either to one another, or to himself. There was -but one fact certain; by that alone he could connect -himself with beings who seemed almost of another world,—the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>one undoubted fact of the discovery of John -Ashley’s murderer.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley’s ready apprehension of the public mind had -been helped by what he knew to be the actual state of -affairs in the ranks to which Doña Isabel had intrusted -the safety of her person, trusting to the resources which -were at her command, and to the present ascendency of -Gonzales, to bind those soldiers of fortune to the cause -she had espoused. Perhaps none knew better than she -the elements that an alluring chance of gain or a transient -enthusiasm had drawn together; but she could not know -how near the fire lay to the straw, and how at her very -side were those who in the name of patriotism—or, like -Chinita, for a personal sentiment as unexplainable as it was -imaginative and ardent—would sacrifice her dearest plans, -and think it a grand and noble deed to raise the ubiquitous -and dashing Ramirez upon the fall of the slow and cautious -Gonzales. Ashley had imperfectly comprehended the -scheme or its bearings; he had little understood, and felt -but little interest in, those strange complexities and personalities -of Mexican politics; but now a sudden party -zeal and horror of treason seized him. Where was Pedro -Gomez, who, having played traitor once, might do so a -hundred times more? Where was Pepé? Had he rejoined -the troops, or had the detour to the graveyard been but a -clever plan for eluding them? Were these, and perhaps -Ruiz too, the tools of Ramirez? Yet the latter had appeared -to have ridden far; the news of the gathering and -departure of the troops had appeared to have astounded -as much as it had enraged him. Who had carried the -news to Reyes?</p> - -<p class='c001'>The way was long and the youth’s excitement waning; -his recent illness and still aching wound began to declare -their effects. In his full vigor Ashley Ward would have -found the walk under the glaring sunshine—which, though -no longer vertical, was fierce and blinding as it neared the -western hilltops—more than he would have chosen for an -afternoon’s stroll. Weak as he was, and becoming painfully -conscious that he had fasted since morning, he was -glad to lean sometimes against the high adobe wall and -measure with his eye the slowly decreasing distance. It -was a landmark on his way when he caught sight of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>heavy gate set in the wall of the reduction-works; he -knew then just how much farther he must go. He had no -thought of actually approaching it, but he noticed with -surprise that one heavy valve was slightly ajar; and with -that sudden collapse which is apt to assail the overtasked -frame at the unexpected sight of an open door, however -meagre the entertainment it may suggest, he dragged -himself onward with the natural belief that he should find -within some servant or attaché of the great house. But -when he reached the gate and looked through the narrow -aperture, a perfect stillness reigned within. No horse -stamped in the courtyard; no spurred heel rang on the -pavement. Great cacti were pushing their gaunt and -prickly branches into the narrow space, as if stretching -longing arms out into the wide world from which they had -been so long shut in.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With some effort Ashley thrust back the strong and -aggressive barrier, and forced his way in. Rank grass, -which was at that season yellow and matted, had grown up -between the cobble-stones, and raised them in little heaps, -over which the lizards ran. One—fiery red—stopped as -Ashley’s boot-heel woke the echoes, and turned a wondering -ear, then glided swiftly on.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Between the main building and the offices there was a -small arched lobby, through which one entered the great -court, upon which piles of broken ores and the long dried -masses were spread. In this lobby in the olden time the -workmen had been stopped by the watchman or gatekeeper -and searched,—a proceeding to which they daily -submitted with indifference, holding their arms on high -while the practised searcher ran his hands over their thin -and scanty garments, shook out the coarse serape and -tattered sombrero, peered among the rows of glistening -teeth and under the tongue, for those fragments of rich -ore or amalgam which in spite of all precautions, or by the -connivance of the searcher, reached the outer world, netting -in the aggregate a considerable surplus to the income -of the laborers, which found its way to the gambling tables, -or was spent in the adornment of their wives,—as was -proved by the great decline in the village of the manufacture -of filagree ornaments of quaint and delicate designs -upon the closing of the Garcia mining-works.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>Ashley, with a feeling of curiosity or a sense of impending -action, which renewed his strength as a tonic might -have done, noticed that the door upon the side of the lobby -that opened into the main building or living rooms was -also ajar. He glanced in, but except where the long ray -of light stole in through the aperture, which his person -partially obscured, all was so dim that he saw only imperfectly -a few scattered articles of furniture,—and they appeared -to be so old and battered that they were scarce -worth the protection which the great padlock and rusty -key, hanging from a staple in the door, indicated had been -afforded them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With a feeling of awe, Ashley remembered that his -cousin must have lived, and perhaps had lain dead, in that -room. With nervous energy he thrust open the door, and -the light streamed in. He started as his eyes fell upon -the floor. It was of large square bricks, thickly spread -with the dust of many years, but impressed with footprints -so blurred that, dazzled as his eyes were, he -could not tell whether they were those of man, woman, or -child. They seemed mysterious, ghostly. There was no -sound of human presence. His heart beat as it had not -done in all the excitement of that day.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I am here! I have been waiting as you bade me,” -said a low, frightened voice. The words came so unexpectedly -that Ashley scarce understood them. He stepped -forward and glanced around searchingly. In the farther -corner of the room a female figure was in the act of rising -from a low seat on which it had crouched. The face -was half-averted, the dark reboso was drawn over it with -the left hand, the right was outstretched as if in supplicating, -almost compulsory, welcome.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Good God!”—“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Dios mio!</span></i>” The ejaculations -were simultaneous; the girl sank to the floor, the young -man involuntarily drew back.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señorita!” he exclaimed in a voice of incredulity, -“Señorita, you here and alone?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Maria Sanctissima!</span></i> not the General Ramirez!” he -heard her moan; yet in the fright and confusion there -seemed an accent of relief. “Don ’Guardo! Oh, what has -brought you here? Oh, Señor, believe me—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Do not distress yourself to explain, Señorita,” interrupted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>Ashley, coldly. “Rise, I beg, and I will go at -once; but that you may not waste more time in waiting, -I will tell you that the man you speak of will not be here -to-day. And,” he added, with an intensity that startled -even himself, “if there is justice in heaven or upon earth, -never again shall he fulfil a lover’s tryst upon a spot that -by any other than a demon would be shunned as a scene -of gentle dalliance, if not abhorred as the theatre of a -crime that should have blasted his whole life!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl threw back her head-covering and looked up in -uncomprehending amaze. As her gaze caught Ashley’s -both colored, both averted their eyes in confusion. Ashley -recoiled before hers, so childlike, so honest.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chata!” he murmured; “Chata!” involuntarily extending -toward her his hand in deprecation, in entreaty, -in protection. She clasped it as a frightened child might, -and clinging to it rose to her feet, swaying a little and -bending low, not with weakness, but with shame.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I dared not disobey him,” she murmured at last. “I -dared not disobey.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley dropped her hand,—almost flung it from him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl’s face crimsoned; she opened her lips, hesitated, -then clasping her hands together, cried, “It is not as you -think. Oh, rather than the truth, would to God it were! -I am not the child of Don Rafael and Doña Rita! Jose -Ramirez is my father!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>“José Ramirez is my father!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Had her words been a thunderbolt hurled at Ashley’s -feet, they could not have astounded him more. The -daughter of Ramirez!</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I do not believe it! I cannot believe it!” he exclaimed, -with no thought for courteous words. “Oh, that is a tale -for a jealous lover! but I am not one. Anything, anything -rather than that, Señorita, would serve to explain -the reason of your presence here!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Why have I spoken?” cried the young girl with tears. -“Why have I broken my promise, and only to be disbelieved -and scorned? O, Señor, I know not what it was in -you that wrung the words from me! Did he not command -me to be silent till he gave me leave to speak? He is my -father, yet I have disobeyed his first command. In the -letter the woman brought me, two days after he left El -Toro, and in which he commanded me to meet him here -upon this day, he enjoined secrecy again and again; and -yet I forgot. Miserable girl that I am!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley had lived among Mexicans long enough to learn -something of their ideas of filial duty. No matter how -vile, how cruel, how debased the parent may be, the duty -of the child is perfect obedience and respect; the petted -infant in its most wilful moments ceases its passionate -cries to kiss the father’s hand; the young man deprives -himself, his wife and children, to minister to his aged -parents; he who cannot or will not work, esteems it a -pious act to become a bandit upon the highway rather -than that his father or mother shall look to him for food -or even for luxuries in vain,—and thus he comprehended -the remorse of this conscience-stricken child, as the conviction -rushed over him that her belief might indeed be -true. There was that in the contour of her face which -resembled that of Ramirez more markedly than the mere -<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>general type that in her babyhood had given her that resemblance -to Rosario, which daily grew less, and indeed -had never been apparent to Ashley; though in her face he -had traced resemblances which had puzzled and bewildered -him, and which as he gazed upon her now became still -more confusing.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As they had been conversing, Ashley and Chata had -gradually drawn near to the door, where the light fell full -upon the agitated girl. Yes, in the square brows, the -heavily fringed lids resting upon the olive cheeks,—too -broad beneath the eyes for beauty, but singularly -delicate about the mouth and chin,—so far she resembled -Ramirez; or was it but a common Aztec type? The -mouth itself, sensitive, refined,—which should have parted -but for laughter,—quivered with emotion, and the large -gray eyes she lifted to Ashley’s were singularly grave -and earnest. Where had he seen such a mouth, such eyes? -The contrasts and combinations in the face confused him. -Never had he seen its counterpart, yet fancy might under -other circumstances have led him upon wild theories. -That face familiar, yet strange, had haunted him since -he had first seen it. Vainly he had sought in his memory -for some picture, some dream, with which to connect -it. Now, though he had seen Ramirez, though Chata -declared herself his child, the same feeling of uncertainty, -of tantalizing familiarity yet strangeness, remained; the -association of one with the other did not even momentarily -satisfy him. He was not conscious that the face -appealed to his imagination rather than to his memory, -or that it had always awakened an interest different from -that with which he had looked upon others. Certainly -its beauty had not delighted him; even as he looked at -her now, the witching, glowing, ever-changing countenance -of Chinita rose before him. “Strange! strange!” he -murmured. “What can be the mystery that from the -first has seemed to hover around you, to separate you -from the rest?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, yes!” she said humbly. “I have realized that -myself. Oh, for a long, long time I have felt as a stranger -among them all,—they so good, so true; and I—O -God, who am I? Ah, I used to pity Chinita, but they -have given her her proper place. It must have been a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>worthy one, or Doña Isabel would not have made her her -child. But when they separate me from Don Rafael what -shall I be?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Do not think of it. He—this Ramirez—is gone, -perhaps never to return,” said Ashley, soothingly. “And -if not, why should you go with him? Appeal to Don Rafael, -to Doña Feliz.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Doña Rita has told me already that would be worse -than useless,” replied Chata. “Don Rafael and Doña -Feliz have already interfered in his plans for me; to thwart -him further would be to make him their deadly enemy. -Oh, you know not, Señor, what men like Don José -Ramirez will do; and yet he is my father!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Her voice failed in an agony of terror and shame. Ashley’s -words died on his lips. Here was a grief he could -hardly understand, against which he could offer no advice -to one whose education and mind were so different from -his own. What could he say to her to lessen the burden -of her grief? Surely not, as he would have done to Chinita, -that she should strive to content herself in a destiny -which would raise her from an obscure station to wealth,—for -the revolutionary chieftain, he supposed, had never-failing -resources,—and to a certain dignity, as the daughter -of a popular hero. He could have imagined Chinita as -glorying in such a position, and Rosario as reigning with a -thousand airs and graces in the miniature court around -her; but here was a child, a very child, shrinking from -the possible contact with cruel and conscience-hardened -adventurers, and stricken to the heart by the thought of -losing the heritage of an honest name.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Presently Chata spoke again, as though to speak to this -stranger in whom she had involuntarily confided was, in -spite of her self-reproach, to lay her long repression, her -doubts and fears, before a shrine. Almost incoherently, -in the rapid utterance of overwhelming excitement, she -poured forth the story of the interview of Ramirez and -Doña Rita which she had overheard in the garden at El -Toro. In her earnestness she did not even omit the project -which had been discussed for uniting her future with -that of Ruiz. Ashley’s teeth became set and his lips -pressed each other as he listened. Here indeed was confirmation -of the villain’s claim; and yet—and yet—</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>“It cannot be!” he interrupted. “I cannot believe it. -You say yourself, your very being recoils from him—ah, -it must be for some deep cause you hate him so! And I -too—I hate him. Did I not tell you I have a long arrear -of wrong to settle, and—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You!” she ejaculated wonderingly. “What wrong -can he have done to you? Was it he who robbed and -wounded you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no!” he answered. “Those were but the chances -of travel. There is something far greater than that; but -while you believe him to be your father, I will not talk to -you of avenging myself. I should be a brute indeed to -add a feather’s weight to your trouble. Do not think of -that again; but believe me, there is some mystery neither -of us understands. The truth may be far from what you -think it. I will demand it of Don Rafael, of Doña Feliz—they -must know.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She was looking at him wonderingly, almost in awe, with -those large, clear, gray eyes, which seemed to have in them -the reflection of a purer, calmer sky than the intense and -fiery one beneath which she was born. As he looked at -her, her very dress seemed a disguise, so entirely did she -seem disassociated from the scenes in which he found her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah,” she said hopelessly, clasping her hands, “you -do not know my people as I do. I have not asked Don -Rafael or Doña Feliz to tell me the secret of my birth. -They have concealed it for some weighty reason, and until -the time comes when they judge it right for me to know, -I might plead with them in vain. By going to them I -should but lose their love, and become the object of their -suspicion and doubt. Oh, I could not endure that, I -would not endure it! Doña Rita is changed, is cold, distrustful; -and why should I by useless haste bring their -anger upon her? No, no, Señor, I beg, I entreat you, say -nothing to Don Rafael. Let me be in peace as long as I -may. My father has not come to-day; perhaps he has -forgotten me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You reason wildly,” said Ashley. “I cannot understand -these strange duplicities; yet I know it is quite true -I should gain nothing by direct questioning. What have -I ever gained? No, it is to Doña Isabel I will go, and to -Ramirez himself. But promise me, Chata,” he added -<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>earnestly, “promise me, by all you hold most sacred, -never to leave the hacienda to meet him or any messenger -of his. Promise for your own sake, and I swear I will -leave no measure untried to free you from this strange -bondage.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He had expressed himself with difficulty throughout, -but she caught his meaning eagerly. “Oh, if I dared to -promise!” she murmured. “But it is the duty of the -child to obey. Besides, he would tell me the truth; even -this very day I thought I should have known the wretched -story,—oh, I am sure it is a wretched one! Well, I -have a respite,—a little respite. Go, Señor; you have -been kind,—be kind still by being silent. I must go; -the sun will soon set. Ah, unfortunate that I am, the -men will be coming in from the fields, the women will be -at their doors,—how shall I ever return without being -seen?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Here was indeed a difficulty. The strictly nurtured girl -had never in her life been outside the precincts of the village -alone; that she then should be, and with a young -man, would occasion endless gossip. The two involuntary -culprits looked at each other with blank faces,—Ashley -in absolute dismay, for he had heard of the strict requirements -of Mexican customs and etiquette, and knew to -what cruel innuendo this young girl had exposed herself. -He realized then for the first time how great her courage -had been in venturing forth in obedience to the command -of Ramirez.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chata, Chata! for God’s sake,” he cried, “go at -once! I will remain. Your mad freak will be pardoned -this time, when they see you are alone.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Alone!” she echoed, a crimson flush suffusing her -face as she fully realized the significance of his words, -and saw that with a sudden faintness he leaned against -the wall, spent with excitement and fatigue.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, yes,” he said wearily, “none will know I am -here. The night will soon pass; in the morning I will -wander in to one of the huts. They will fancy I was lost -on the mountain. None will think—you will be safe.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I <em>am</em> safe,” said the girl with sudden resolution. -“Would a woman of your own country leave you to hunger -and shiver through all the night in a desolate place -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>like this? Ah,” she added with a long-drawn breath and -a tremor, “even ghosts are here.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley smiled. “I do not fear them,” he said. “I -fear but for you. Go! go at once! And yet before you -go, promise!—promise me never to run these risks again; -never in any place to meet Ramirez!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>In his earnestness he clasped her hand and gazed -eagerly into her limpid eyes. “I promise, yes, I promise,” -she said hurriedly. “But I will not leave you,—weak, -fasting, fainting!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She looked up at him with the angelic pity in her face -that innocent children feel before they have learned distrust. -Ashley read the perfect trust, the perfect guilelessness, -of her tender nature. Rather, he thought, would he -die than cast a cloud upon her name; and what, after all, -would matter the privations of a few hours? That he must -not be seen in the neighborhood for some time after her -unusual wanderings was a foregone conclusion. How -should he combat her resolution? Truly, this gentle girl -had deep springs of action within her. For duty and -right she could be a very heroine.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As these thoughts passed through his mind, a sudden -breeze stole through the open gate and reached the lobby; -there was a faint smell of cactus flowers, and a rustle of -the dry grass. The effect was weird and ghostly. A -shadow fell between them. Had the sun plunged down -beneath the western hills? They glanced up and started -apart,—Doña Feliz was before them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The ordinarily grave and self-possessed woman was for -a moment the most agitated of the three. She gasped for -breath. She had been walking fast, but it was not that -alone which caused the earth apparently to reel beneath -her. She had found Chata, whose disappearance from the -hacienda she had discovered at the moment when a cry -had run through the house that the horse of the young -American had returned riderless; that the youth had -doubtless met an evil fate. She had found them both,—and -together!</p> - -<p class='c001'>She pressed her hands over her eyes as though to shut -out some horrid vision; a moan broke from her lips,—then -she caught Chata in her arms and glared at Ashley -with concentrated anguish and fury. Had one guilty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>thought possessed him, or had he meditated a doubtful -act, her glance would have covered him with confusion. -As it was, he read in her expressive face and gesture a -volume of deep and terrible significance, far different from -that which an anxious duenna ordinarily casts upon the -imagined trifler with the affections of her charge. Nothing -of that assumption of virtuous indignation, yet of -flattered satisfaction, which in the midst of remonstrance -gives indication of a certain sympathy and inclination to -condone the offence in consideration of its cause, was apparent. -Doña Feliz evidently had in her mind no lover’s -venial follies. This meeting was to her a tragedy,—the -very culmination of woes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley read something of this in her expression and gesture, -and hastened to reassure her, by giving a partial account -of the reasons of his return. The anxious guardian -of innocence would perhaps have thought his turning aside -at the instance of Pepé to view his cousin’s grave, his -lingering there, the departure of the servant, the flight of -his horse, all a fabrication, but for the meeting with his -cousin’s murderer, which the young man recounted with -startling brevity and force, unconsciously regaining in -the recital much of the excitement and deep indignation -which had thrilled him at the time of the encounter, and -which had gradually subsided amid the new complications -that Chata’s words had opened before him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Involuntarily Ashley refrained from any allusion to the -fact that the young girl had ventured forth to meet this -man Ramirez; and acute though she was, it did not suggest -itself to Doña Feliz, who seemed lost in wonder at -the almost miraculous chance which after so many years -had brought into contact the secret murderer and him -whose mission it seemed to avenge the innocent blood. -In his recital, Ashley had not mentioned the name of the -self-confessed assassin. Doña Feliz did not ask it,—perhaps -she inferred that it remained unknown to him,—yet -Ashley was certain his identity was no problem to -her. Had she guessed the secret all these years? Had -she screened the guilty and fostered the innocent, at the -same time?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Deep as was her interest in his tale, full as was her -acceptance of the fact that the meeting of Ashley Ward -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>and Chata was purely accidental, Doña Feliz did not -exhibit a tithe of that horror and dismay which was depicted -upon the countenance of Chata, who listened -breathlessly,—her lips apart, her hair pushed back, her -startled eyes opened wide. Ashley would gladly have -recalled his words as he looked at her. Every particle -of color had faded from her face.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In her absorption in Ashley’s words, Doña Feliz had -ceased to regard or even remember the young girl, who -suddenly recalled herself to that lady’s mind.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Doña Feliz,” she murmured in an agonized and pleading -voice, “when my mother forsook me, why did you not -suffer me to die? Oh why, why did I live to hear such -horrors, to know such wretchedness as this?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>As if in a frenzy, before either thought to stop her, or -found words with which to answer or recall her, she ran -out from the lobby,—her small figure passing unimpeded -through the cactus-guarded gateway,—and fled across -the plain toward the hacienda. She was young and -strong,—excitement lent wings to her feet. Doña Feliz -and Ashley standing together in the gateway looked at -each other in amazement. The girl continued her flight -until she reached the outskirts of the village. There a -horseman stopped her. Even at that distance they recognized -Don Rafael, and saw that Chata clung to him -passionately when he dismounted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“She is safe!” murmured Doña Feliz. “Rafael will -know how to account for her presence with him.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes,” thought Ashley; “these Mexicans fortunately -know how to coin a plausible tale as well for a good cause -as for a bad one.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>They saw that Don Rafael, placing Chata on his horse -before him, had turned in the direction of the hacienda, -and was signalling to the vaqueros lingering in uncertainty -at the gate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“They will be here in a few moments, Señor,” said -Doña Feliz, calmly. “We must lock the gates and conceal -the keys. You must be found outside of, not within, -these walls.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley assented, and within a few moments, and in -silence, their necessary task was accomplished. Doña -Feliz then led the way toward the village, walking rapidly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>as though impelled by the agitation of her thoughts or a -desire to escape question. Ashley kept pace with her -with some effort, though the chill which had come with -the grayness of evening over the landscape revived and -strengthened him. The breeze was whistling in the tall -corn in the fields as they passed them; the cattle were -lowing in the yards; the distant sound of horses’ feet was -beginning to be heard; the riders like gray columns were -seen approaching. Ashley laid his hand upon the arm of -Doña Feliz. She turned and looked at him. His face -was to her a volume of reproach and question. Her voice -broke forth in a great sob.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ashley! Ashley!” she exclaimed, “do you not comprehend -that a vow stronger than death controls me? -Ask me nothing, but follow the indications which the good -God—Fate—Providence—has given you. The time -may come—for strange things are happening in our land—when -I may be free once more. Now I may only watch -and wait and pray. Ah! what hard tasks for a woman -such as I am! But I have vowed; I cannot retract!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You are wrong!” cried Ashley. “How strange that -a woman of so much intelligence, of a conscience so pure, -can suffer herself to be led by the spurious customs and -traditions that pride and priestcraft together have fastened -upon her people! But your very reticence, Doña Feliz, -confirms my beliefs. I will go as you recommend, as my -own judgment urged me, to follow the clew I have so unexpectedly -obtained. Do not think that a vulgar and -wolfish desire for vengeance alone actuates me; but justice -must be done. Even for Chata’s sake, this man must -not be suffered to continue his course unchecked.” He -would have added more, but Gabriel and Pancho, the -vaqueros, came galloping up with vivas and cries of -welcome.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Praised be our Holy Mother, and all the saints!” -exclaimed one. “Don Rafael told us you were safe. -Who would have thought the Señora and the niña Chatita -would have found you no farther away than deaf and blind -Refugio’s? Ay, Doña Feliz, without seeking, finds more -than will a dozen unlucky ones, though they have spectacles -and lanterns to aid them. In the name of reason, -Don ’Guardo, how happened your nag to throw you and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>gallop back thus? He is manageable enough with any of -us—” and there was a suspicion of irony in the solicitude -of the horseman, which did not escape Ashley as he -answered,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“To-morrow you shall have the whole tale. These -roads of yours are no place for a man to linger on alone. -But for the present, remember I have a wound not too -well healed, and am more anxious for supper than for recounting -adventures.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah! ah! he was stopped on the road by banditti,—and -has escaped.” The vaqueros regarded Ashley with -vastly increased respect. Their numbers were augmented -as they neared the hacienda; and when the party reached -the gates, wild rumors of Ashley’s prowess were already -flying from mouth to mouth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley did not present an imposing figure as he passed -in between the crowds of admiring women; but he served -to turn their thoughts from the unprecedented appearance -of Chata, which was but unsatisfactorily explained by Don -Rafael’s ready fiction that she and Doña Feliz had been -piously visiting at the hut of old Refugio, and that upon -the arrival of Ashley there, the young girl had hastened -to meet her father, and give him news of the American’s -safety.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Doña Feliz is even too careful of her grandchildren,” -said some of the more liberal. “What harm would have -come to the maiden from a walk of a few minutes, or a few -words spoken, with an honorable young man such as he -seems to be? Now, if it were Don Alonzo, or that gay -young Captain Ruiz, for example!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Rosario, who had been leaning over the balcony as Ashley -arrived, heard something of what was said, and smiled. -She was not at all ready to believe that Chata’s walk had -extended only as far as the hut of blind Refugio; and that -it had not been made in company with Doña Feliz she was -quite certain. But she had no time just then to interest -herself in Chata’s affairs,—her own were far too engrossing; -for the new clerk whom Carmen, at Doña Isabel’s -request, had sent from Guanapila, evidently was much -more intent upon studying the charms of Rosario than his -new duties, and in seeking favor in her eyes than in those -of the administrador himself. The new clerk was Don -<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>Alonzo, and Don Alonzo was a handsome fellow, with the -face of an angel, Doña Rita said,—a contrast indeed to -that little brown monkey Captain Ruiz; and Rosario -smiled coyly, and did not gainsay her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The next morning at an unusually early hour this same -Don Alonzo tapped on Ashley’s door. “Pardon, Señor,” -he said, “but the horses and servants are ready, and I -have orders myself to accompany you beyond the boundaries -of Tres Hermanos.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The announcement was not a surprise. Ashley had -arranged his departure with Don Rafael upon the preceding -evening. He dressed hastily, and while partaking of -his cup of chocolate, glanced often around him, in expectation -of the appearance of Don Rafael or his mother; but -in vain. The American could no longer hope to learn at -a parting moment what each had chosen to withhold. Irrationally, -and against all likelihood, he ventured to hope -that Chata might steal forth for a farewell word. He -laughed at himself afterward for the thought, saying that -the air of intrigue had begun to affect his own brain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Sooner than was usual, even in that land of early -movement, Don Alonzo warned him it was growing late. -It was not too late or early for Rosario to wave her little -brown hand from her mother’s window in token of adieu. -Ashley did not see it, but he for whom it was intended -did. So with more foreboding and reluctance than he -could have imagined possible but a few hours before, -Ashley once more rode forth from Tres Hermanos,—this -time with a definite object, from which he felt there could -be no turning back, no possible end but his own death or -the downfall of a man to whom but yesterday he had been -utterly indifferent, but who to-day was inseparable from -all his thoughts, his passions, his purposes,—Ramirez -the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">revolucionario</span></i>, the declared murderer of John Ashley, -the declared father of the young girl who seemed the -very incarnation of honor and sensibility, of tenderness -and purity.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>The departure of Ashley Ward from Tres Hermanos was -not so entirely disregarded as he had supposed. It was not -Rosario only, who left her chamber at daybreak. Scarcely -had she disappeared in the gloom of Doña Isabel’s apartments -on her way to the favorite balcony, when her father -stepped out upon the corridor, starting as his eyes fell upon -Doña Feliz, who, seemingly with the spirit of unrest that -pervaded the household, at the same moment emerged from -her room. With a muttered salutation each abandoned -the original intention of exchanging a farewell word with -the departing guest; and arresting their steps at the -balustrade, they leaned over and listened intently to the -sounds of the early exit. The light was still so uncertain -that though Don Rafael noticed, he did not wonder at, the -gray tinge upon his mother’s face; it seemed only in harmony -with the prevailing darkness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The rains of the past season had been insufficient, and -a murky though almost inpalpable mist, felt rather than -seen, brooded over the silent landscape. It was scarcely -oppressive enough to affect the young men who rode forth -stirring the sluggish air, nor the eager horses lifting their -heads to fill their lungs with the breath of morning, and -expelling it again with a force that agitated the stillness -with a sound like a blow upon water; yet it weighed inexpressibly -both upon the body and mind of Don Rafael. -As he had come to the corridor with a certainty in his -mind that he should meet his mother, he had purposed to -question her as to the actual occurrences of the day before, -for the connection of Chata with the return of Ashley Ward -remained entirely unexplained. That his mother was -satisfied that it was not a mere vulgar <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rendezvous</span></i> into -which she had been tempted, he was assured by her manner -toward both the young man and the recreant girl; -indeed, it appeared that she had scarcely noticed an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>incident which in that place, and at the age of Chata, -was sufficient to array against a young girl the suspicions -of the most trusting and generous of matrons. Yet Don -Rafael could imagine no possible inducement but the -voice of a lover that could have called her forth alone -from the great house,—for that Chata had gone alone, he -knew as well as did his keen-eyed daughter Rosario.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The last gray figure had long since disappeared from -the outer court, into which they looked as into a distant -and narrow vista; the clank of the horses’ hoofs upon the -paving had changed to the thud upon the roadway, then -ceased altogether to be heard; and Don Rafael turning -his eyes upon his mother’s face, had opened his lips to -question her,—when with a thrill of surprise, which became -terror even before the momentary utterance was -repeated, he heard her laugh that strange, unmirthful, -hollow laugh that indicates a mind diseased, while she -said whisperingly,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“He is gone. Yes! yes! I unbarred the door, and -Pedro picked the lock so cleverly and noiselessly that the -very watchman asleep across the threshold did not hear -him. Ah, I knew Gregorio would be quiet enough by -daylight; but Leon was awake, wide awake. For all your -tears, Isabel, he would not have gone but for me; he -swore he would kill Don Gregorio for the blow he gave -him. Why did you say you loved at last as a woman -should the husband who was your brother’s foe to death, -and that you sent him freedom that he might seek a death -more worthy of his villany than by the sword of an outraged -father, or the executioner’s bullet? They were -bitter words, and you knew they were false,—for even -with your child lying dead through his persecution, you -loved him still. And when he would not stir because -of your taunts, but swore he would meet his fate and -shame the callous heart whose love had been as weak -as her sacrifice was forced and incomplete, what was -there for you to do but to throw yourself on your knees -before him, and entreat him for his mother’s sake to -be gone? Even then he would have stayed but for -me. ‘What!’ I cried, ‘to shame your sister, you will -give another victory to the husband of Dolores?’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, it is not tears that conquer such a man as Leon! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>In a moment he had sprung to his feet; he had thrust -Isabel aside, and me too,—yes, that was nothing. Pedro -held his horse, but Leon glared at him as he sprang into -the saddle. ‘But for you, I should have given the last blow -at midnight,’ he cried. ‘It shall be thine some day, when -thy master’s account has been closed!’ and with that he -was gone. Yes, he is gone. Not a sound of the horse as -he gallops! Gone, and none too soon! the morning is -come,”—and she uttered again that sound called a laugh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Mother, what hast thou?” cried Don Rafael, clasping -her arm, and noticing for the first time the deep hollows -beneath her brilliant eyes, and the wide circles that made -more appalling their unnatural glare. “Mother, thou art -dreaming! thy hand burns, and thy temples. Maria -Sanctissima! dost thou not know me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Know thee?—yes. Why, thou art Rafael,” she answered, -letting her eyes drop for a moment on his scared -and anxious face. “Why should I not know thee? -Had ever woman a better son? Yes, yes, he is safe; let -Don Gregorio wake when he will, Leon is away. Ah, at -the last he was not so cruel,—eh, Isabel? Why should -you moan and wring your hands because he vowed never -again but by his death should his name shame you? Ah! -Ah! Ah! well, they say he died, shot and hanged to a -tree as a miscreant should be. Do you believe it, Isabel? -Yet why not? God of my soul! is it only the son of Pancho -<a id='corr316.27'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='Valle'>Vallé</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_316.27'><ins class='correction' title='Valle'>Vallé</ins></a></span> that can be pitiless? Only—” so she muttered on, -in a low monotonous voice, pacing the corridor with an -uncertain step, varying from the halting motion of one -about to fall, to the impetuous haste with which she -fancied herself urging again the unwilling flight of the -sullen and revengeful youth, whom she too, with the -perversity of woman’s heart, had loved as sincerely as -she had condemned.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael followed her in a perturbation of surprise and -terror, which drove from his mind all other thoughts save -those that his remembrance of former plague-stricken seasons -forced upon his mind. Fever was in the air, and his -mother was the first victim! The rainy season, which in -most years cleared the black watercourses and the village -itself of the accumulations of nine dry and almost torrid -months, had failed to do its accustomed work. No rushing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>torrents had cleared the watercourses; but instead of -proving the friend of humanity water had become its -enemy, by mingling scantily with the foul elements that -had gathered during the long period of drouth, and which -exhaled the subtle miasma which even the pure air of -that elevated region was powerless to render innoxious. -Don Rafael absolutely wrung his hands before the evil -he foresaw, and which neither experience nor intelligence -had led him to combat with any sanitary precautions. -That the fever should from time to time decimate the -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">hacienda</span></i> appeared to his mind one of the inevitable -calamities of life, no more to be avoided than the spring -floods or the blasting lightning or the outburst of volcanic -fires. But had all these forces combined assailed -him at once, his consternation could not have been -greater than to witness in his mother the delirium which -testified to the dreaded typhoid. As has been intimated, -his love for his mother was of no common order; without -being weak in judgment or irresolute in character, -he had been accustomed to share with her his every -thought, and their sentiments and aims were ever in -such perfect accord that a dissentient word had never -arisen between them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As Don Rafael followed his mother in her erratic and -excited movements, scarcely conscious of what he did, or -of anything except that with each moment her talk grew -more distracted, while her thoughts were persistently -fixed upon the events and woes and passions of by-gone -years, a door at the end of the corridor was timidly -pushed open, and Chata’s face peeped anxiously out. -Had Don Rafael’s thoughts been free, he would have -wondered that the girl was fully dressed at such an -early hour; but he did not even heed the explanation -she hurriedly gave as she advanced to meet him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I would not have left my grandmother alone, but she -forbade me to come,” she said. “Oh, I could not sleep. -I thought the morning would never dawn. I went to her -with the first light, but she would not listen to me. She -bade me leave her; and I thought it was because she -was angry, but it was this! Oh, Father, is it a sickness? -See, she does not know me? <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Mama grande</span></i>, it is I; it is -your Chata.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>“Be silent!” exclaimed Don Rafael, the more sharply -because of his extreme alarm. “Fly, Chata! fly to thy -mother, thy sister! Call old Selsa, any one who has sense -and knows what remedies to bring. Why do you stare? -Do you think my mother is mad? It is the fever. It is -not for nothing that the rains have been delayed so long. -Pitying Saints, as I rode by the ditches last week they were -black as pitch and foul as a vulture’s quarry. Run! I will -lead her to her room. Ay, ay, Mother, thou art strong, -and not so old yet,”—and with the tenderness of a child -and the devotion of a lover the son guided the steps of the -delirious yet gentle woman, who, half-conscious of her -state, half-resentful of care, suffered herself to be led into -the chamber she had quitted in apparent health but a -brief quarter of an hour before.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Apparent health only, for she had passed an utterly -sleepless night, strangely excited by the events of the day, -yet unable to fix her mind upon them. Chata, upon her -return to the hacienda, had sought her own chamber; and -in the press of other thoughts Doña Feliz had failed to -follow and to question her upon the strange escapade, -which the whole character and bearing of the young girl -combined to render utterly inexplicable,—for she had -no data by which to connect it with the appearance of -Ramirez at the cemetery, and she absolved Ashley Ward -from any pre-arrangement with the young girl as completely -as though they had been found a thousand miles -asunder. As was natural, suspicions of some precocious -love, of which some one of the many volatile and dashing -youth that had lately gathered at the hacienda was -the object, haunted the mind of Doña Feliz; but she -rejected them with disdain, promising herself upon the -early morning to demand the truth, not doubting she -should learn it. Even while awake to the importance of -the incident, and inwardly debating it, she was conscious -that the remembrance of it, as well as of Ashley and his -strange participation in the life-drama in which she had -enacted so forced and painful a part, constantly strove to -elude her, and was recalled with an effort that with every -hour grew greater and less effective; while all the events -and actors of long ago passed in endless review before her,—Doña -Isabel in her matronly girlhood, soothing and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>bribing with tender words and lavish gifts her wilful half-brother; -Don Gregorio; the dying Norberto; the scowling -and furious abductor; then Herlinda and John Ashley. -The pale procession, spectral yet real, voiceless yet each -repeating with irresistible eloquence the tale of his love, -his guilt or anguish, passed before her, thrusting aside, as -often as they re-appeared, the forms of those who at this -new and critical point had appeared upon the scene.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As the night passed, she was perfectly aware of this -tantalizing inability to command her thoughts; and as -again and again she set herself to follow the probable -course and effect of Ashley Ward’s intervention in the -fate of the man who to her seemed gifted with demoniacal -powers for evil, and an absolute invulnerability to human -vengeance, or as she began in mind to question Chata, the -persons both of the young man and the girl seemed to fade -from before her, and the voices that should have replied, -were those which had been familiar years before,—oftenest -that of Herlinda in wild repetition of her unhappy love, -and agonized entreaties for the babe she was but to embrace -and forever relinquish. Through it all Doña Feliz -had retained the thought of Ashley’s departure; and with -some vague thought that the sight of him would calm her -fevered brain, she instinctively strove to accomplish the -resolve with which she had begun the night. And thus -her last conscious act before the positive delirium of the -fever seized her, had been to look, with the half-fearful -gaze of one who invokes yet dreads the vengeance of -heaven, upon him who seemed to her morbid and superstitious -mind fraught with a mission to avenge and right -the innocent,—both the living and the dead.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael, in consternation, had recognized at once the -serious character of his mother’s illness. As he called -aloud for help, and Chata with white and affrighted face -hastened to obey his command, Rosario, followed by her -mother in some confusion, appeared from the farther corridor. -Too much bewildered and alarmed to wonder at -seeing his daughter also dressed and abroad at such an -hour, her father exclaimed in impatience at the voluble -reproaches of Doña Rita, who, pushing Rosario from the -side of Doña Feliz, bade her cease from such tempting -of Providence, affirming that for her own sins she (Doña -<span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>Rita) must have been burdened with the plague of so -reckless a child, and praying her in the name of the Holy -Babe to fly from infection lest she should break her -mother’s heart by her premature decease. To all of which -Rosario submitted with a sobbing declaration that she -was already faint and ill, whereupon Doña Rita hastily -retreated to her own room, dragging Rosario with her; -and in spite of his hurriedly formed resolution to the -contrary, Don Rafael was forced to confide his mother -to the care of Chata and of the servants, who, subservient -to the slightest wish even of this inexperienced girl, -were however absolutely useless without the guiding -presence of a superior.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXIV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>The hilltops were flooded with sunshine when the party -from Tres Hermanos reached them; the atmosphere was -so clear, that looking back over the broad valley, spread -with fields of maize and beans, and the half-tropical luxuriance -of fruit and flower, Ashley could distinguish every -break and fret on the massive front of the great house, and -recognized with a feeling almost of awe the tall, slender -figure standing upon the centre balcony. She waved her -hand in token of God-speed. Strange, inscrutable woman! -She had bidden him go forth as the minister of fate, she -had furnished him with servants, horses, money, arms,—yet -had spoken no word. Ashley felt as though he were -an enchanted knight in an enchanted land!</p> - -<p class='c001'>The traveller bade adieu to Don Alonzo in sight of his -cousin’s grave; then, followed by his two servants, rode -rapidly onward in the direction taken the day before by the -troops and Doña Isabel, by Ramirez and Reyes,—indifferent -which he first should encounter, confident that sooner -or later the full significance of the impulse that had led -him upon his Quixotic journey to Mexico would be revealed. -The little cloud no bigger than a man’s hand had grown -so great as to overshadow his earth and heavens. He rode -on as in a dream. The day passed, the night came, and the -party was still alone. The guide had mistaken the way. -That night they encamped but a league from the village of -Las Passas. Ashley slept neither better nor worse for -that; there was no voice to tell him it could be more to -him or his than a score of other villages which lay in the -recesses of these wild mountains. The next day he left it -to the right, and set his face toward El Toro.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile the march of the troops had been as rapid as -the nature of the country, broken by deep ravines and at -first offering a tortuous ascent to the table-lands, would -allow. To Chinita, though the slow movement of the carriage -<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>was irksome and irritating, and the clouds of dust -that rose from beneath the tread of the horses obscured -the sights which in their novelty delighted and filled her -with exultation of a new and expanding life, the hours -passed as though winged by enchantment. In the joyous -clamor of the camp followers and the scarcely less -restrained hilarity of the troops, in the tramp of the -horses, the clanking of arms, there was a subtile music -that aroused all the energies of her adventurous spirit, -and imbued her with an animation which like a flame -within a crystal vase seemed visibly to fill and surround -her whole being with strength and beauty.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Had the country passed over been as dull and uninteresting -as it was in fact wild and picturesque, the effect of -movement and change would have been still the same to -her; for hers was a mind to be affected by the various -phases of humanity rather than of inanimate nature. -The landscape in truth offered to her view little of novelty, -for in her childhood she had wandered where she listed, -and her lithe young limbs had been as untiring as her -curiosity. The succeeding cañons and hills, the slopes -and cactus-planted valleys, were but counterparts of those -which she had explored on every side of the plain on which -Tres Hermanos stood. With ready tact she avoided recalling -her unwatched, untended childhood to the mind of -Doña Isabel, who received with a distaste which seemed of -the nature of regretful shame any allusion to the life from -which the girl who now called her <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Tia</span></i> (aunt) had been -rescued.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The use of this appellation had been brought about by -Ruiz, in his evident uncertainty as to how the apparent -relationship between his patroness and her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i> should -be defined. He had tentatively alluded to Doña Isabel as -the godmother of Chinita, a designation which some conscientious -scruple led her to reject. The word <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Tia</span></i> is used -by Mexicans as a term of respect toward an elder as often -as in actual acknowledgment of relationship; and when -with some daring Chinita one day applied it to Doña Isabel, -in answering some remark of the young captain, the lady -allowed it to pass unchallenged; and gradually “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">mi Tia</span></i> -Isabel” took the place of the formal “Señora,” which -hitherto had helped to keep their intercourse as reserved -<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>and cold as when Chinita still stood at the gate at Pedro’s -side, and Doña Isabel had furtively glanced at her glowing -beauty, and felt the hand of remorse pressing upon -her heart.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The haughty lady felt it still; and that it was which -made her lenient to a score of faults in this young girl that -in her own children would have been deemed almost unpardonable. -She did not admit that she loved her,—it is -doubtful if she really did,—yet she strove by all the arts -of which the long repression of her nature made her capable -to win the heart of the girl, who she saw with suspicious -intuition beheld in her one who had wronged her, and was -even now withholding her birthright. Doña Isabel bestowed -rich presents, but never a caress; perhaps Chinita -would have spurned the last as lightly as she received the -first. Ruiz, admitted to a certain intimacy by the necessities -of the time, was impressed by the entire absence of any -sense of obligation with which the young girl took her place -with Doña Isabel, as if she had never known one more -humble, while there was something in the cold and stately -manner of Doña Isabel which seemed to shrink before the -imperious force of character of her young companion.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was at their first halt that Doña Isabel had, with unexpected -hospitality, sent to invite Ruiz to share their midday -meal; and, evidently with some effort, at the same time -she bade the servant extend the invitation to the young -American. Ruiz presented himself with due acknowledgments, -but Ashley was nowhere to be found: he and his -servant Pepé had disappeared from the ranks. No one -remembered having seen them since they ascended the face -of the hill of the graveyard; doubtless, it was surmised, -the young man had grown weary, and had unceremoniously -returned to Tres Hermanos.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel’s face clouded. Upon the next day she had -hoped to part company with her unwelcome guest forever; -and now,—part of her purpose in leaving the hacienda -was already frustrated. Ruiz was scarcely less disquieted; -a glance at Chinita’s triumphant countenance confirmed his -apprehensions. Pepé, at least, had not returned to the -hacienda, he was assured. The officer had had it in his -mind to have the servant strictly watched; but it had not -occurred to him that upon the first day he would attempt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>to evade him and fulfil Chinita’s wild project of summoning -Ramirez. He inwardly cursed his own folly and -the duplicity of Ashley, whom he hitherto had not for -a moment supposed in sympathy with the plot. He and -the young American had even laughed at it together as -the foolish dream of an imaginative girl. Now to the -suspicious officer’s apprehensions was added a burning -jealousy. For Chinita’s sake the American had doubtless -made her cause his own; and with such an ally, Ruiz -reflected, it was not impossible that he might see himself -confronted by the man who he knew well never forgave a -slight, never left unrevenged an injury.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The manner of Ruiz was so grave and abstracted that -day, that Doña Isabel was inclined to credit him with far -more depth and earnestness than as the reputed suitor of -Rosario, or the airy and flippant recreant follower of the -notorious Ramirez, she had attributed to him. Ruiz had -the art of involuntarily suiting his demeanor and conversation -to those in whose company he was thrown. There -was no conscious hypocrisy in this, for the desire to please -was natural to him, and often served him in good stead in -the absence of genuine feeling, and even under the sting -of wounded self-love held him silent, and masked his resentment. -Many a time in his life-long intercourse with -Ramirez had he chafed under the General’s haughty patronage -and made no sign; and it was only when he found -himself thwarted in what was for the moment his strongest -passion, that he began to question the designs of the chieftain -to whom he owed all the fortune which birth or -talents combine to make possible to other men.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz was the son of Tio Reyes, a life-long follower of -Ramirez, for whom the chieftain had been sponsor, and toward -whom he had with minute conscientiousness directed -every worldly advantage which his means and position rendered -possible. To Ramirez, Ruiz—who was known by -the name of his mother (a not uncommon custom where her -family renders the cognomen more honorable than that of -the father)—owed the chance which had made him a soldier -of fortune instead of a laborer in the village where his -brothers and sisters plodded and toiled, in absolute ignorance -of the father who had forsaken them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz’s knowledge of this strengthened his resolution to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>ignore the past, and suffer no ill-timed revelations to interfere -with his determination to win at one step love and -fortune by gaining the hand of the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i>, of Doña Isabel,—a -purpose he was certain Ramirez would oppose, for in -a moment of confidence the General had intimated that -it was to a daughter of his own, in accordance with a -promise made long years before to Reyes, that the -young man was to be united; it was for this destiny his -future had been shaped, his fortunes moulded.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At any previous time the ambition of Ruiz would have -been fully satisfied; his whole desire would have been to -meet this promised bride, and by his marriage strengthen -the interest which the caprice or affection of Ramirez alone -caused to be centred upon him, and which, though often -burdensome and tyrannous, was apparently the young -man’s sole passport to success. Even when in pique and -half-timorous defiance he took advantage of his separation -from Ramirez to follow Rosario to Tres Hermanos, it was -with no fixed resolution to tempt fortune alone. His short-lived -passion and his independence and anger would have -died together, had not his love for Chinita and the unexpected -opportunities thrust upon him opened before him a -prospect of advancement and triumph far above his wildest -dreams, and completed his treason to his early patron, -without teaching him the lesson of truth either to the new -cause or to the mistress to which he was sworn.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the eyes of Doña Isabel Ruiz was but the hireling -whose faith was purchased for Gonzales; in those of Chinita, -the devoted follower of Ramirez; in his own—well, -time and circumstance would decide.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Like thousands of others who took part in the strife that -rent and decimated Mexico, Ruiz had but little conception -of the points at issue. He had simply followed the lead -of the popular chieftain to whom circumstances had attached -him. He had learned by observation that wealth -flowed from the coffers of the clergy into the hands of -Ramirez, who scattered it lavishly to all about him,—dissipating -the greater part in luxurious living in cities, -and the maintenance of hordes of followers in towns and -cañons of the mountains, and with ready superstition returning -much to the source whence it came, for never a -follower of his kept child unchristened or burial Mass -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>unsaid for want of means to purchase the services of a -priest.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez had appeared to the young imagination of Ruiz -absolute and ubiquitous. There were few daring deeds -done that he had not shared in; scarce a town been seized -and its merchants arrested until the forced loans demanded -from them were paid, scarce a train of wagons laden with -silver stopped, scarce a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamiento</span></i> with its excitement -and rapid exchange of power and property effected, -that he had taken no part in. He had been found wherever -fighting or plunder were. He had taken a bloody part in -the repulse of the Liberals at the City of Mexico, where -the names of Zuloaga the President and of Miramon alike -were made infamous. He had shared in the futile attacks -upon Vera Cruz, where Juarez at the head of the Provisional -Government maintained with stubborn tenacity, -with a handful of followers, the most important stronghold -upon the seaboard, promulgating those unprecedented resolutions -and decrees which revealed to the minds of the -people that of which they had never hitherto dreamed,—namely, -the separation of Church and State; the suppression -of the monasteries, which like vampires had for -generations drained the resources and absorbed the intellect -of the people; and the secularization of those immense -treasures which, donated by the faithful to feed the -hungry and the sick, train the orphans, maintain the glory -and worship of God, had become the means of oppression -and bloodshed, and were the thews and sinews of the civil -war, in which the clergy strove to maintain the abuses of -the past and forge fresh chains for the future.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In a country where the dogmas of Catholicism were as -the oracles of God, where every heart was bound either -by the truths or the superstitions of Rome, or in most -cases by both inseparably, the magnitude of the task -assumed by the astute and resolute Juarez was almost -beyond the comprehension of those bred in the lands which -have never groaned beneath the yoke of ecclesiastical -tyranny. Any premature act, any unguarded word, might -become the cause of offence; and yet it was no time for -hesitation or timorous questioning.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Juarez knew the time and the temper of his countrymen; -and environed though he was, virtually imprisoned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>in one small town upon the seashore, his influence reached -to the most remote districts of the interior. And although -the armies of the clergy swept the country from sea to sea, -in obscure fastnesses rose daring bands in tens and twenties -and hundreds, who promulgating the new promises of -liberty sent forth by Juarez, maintained them with a tenacity -of purpose that made defeat impossible. Worsted in -one quarter, they arose in another, employing with unscrupulous -daring every means that cunning or audacity could -bring within their power,—claiming the excuse of necessity -for those acts of rapine and cruelty in the satisfaction of -personal enmities, the warfare upon the women and children, -and the thousand barbarous deeds which make the -history of that time a continual record of horrors. Had -example been necessary, they would have found it in the -career of the opposing forces; but in truth it was a time -when the attributes of patriot and plunderer, soldier and -bandit, became inextricably confused; so that, perhaps as -completely to himself as to others, the average actor in that -bloody drama became a baffling and unsatisfying enigma.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Such was the mental condition of Ruiz, though it did -not occur to him to define it. Attached to the clerical -party by long association, and by the uninterrupted prosperity -which he had shared with Ramirez,—who since -separating himself from Gonzales had followed an independent -career, in which he had found the highest bidders -for his services among the crafty leaders of the old régime -(who to their rich gifts added the indulgences of the -Church, to which no soul however blood-stained and conscienceless -could remain indifferent),—when Ruiz declared -himself to Don Rafael a convert to the Liberal cause, it -was but as a precautionary measure recommended by -Doña Rita; and it was only when he saw in Doña Isabel -a patroness more powerful than the one he had abandoned, -added to his resolution to make himself independent of -the man who had hitherto controlled as well as defended -him, that he in reality inclined to the faction which day -by day seemed gathering strength, and likely to become -the dominant power.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But though his political views thus shaped themselves -to meet Doña Isabel’s, Ruiz was no more faithful to her -purposes than to those of Chinita. To abandon Gonzales -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>to his fate at El Toro,—for he did not doubt that Ramirez -would return with overwhelming numbers to the destruction -of its insufficient garrison,—and at the same time to -win the confidence of Doña Isabel and that of the troops -under his command, thereafter seizing the first opportunity -of having himself proclaimed their permanent leader and -marching to join Juarez, whose cause was becoming -strengthened day by day by fresh accessions from the -interior, became his dream. Thus he hoped to blind -Chinita by an apparent inability rather than disinclination -to further her designs, mislead Doña Isabel, and secure -for himself a position which should render it not absurd or -incredible that he should aspire to the hand of a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i> -of the Garcias, and to the dower which he shrewdly -suspected he might of right demand.</p> - -<p class='c001'>All these plans were not perfected in a day, and the -defection of Ashley Ward and his servant seriously interfered -in the ambitious captain’s calculations; but he -allowed no trace of uneasiness to appear in those rare -intervals when he found an opportunity to exchange a few -words with the impatient Chinita.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Unconsciously also, Doña Isabel herself aided to establish -a bond of confidence between them. When the long -irregular column, with banners flying, driving before it -the lowing cattle, whose numbers grew less after each -night’s slaughter, and followed by the motley line of women -and children with the rude equipage of the camp, would -be fairly in motion after the confusion of the early start, -Ruiz would rein his prancing steed at the side of the -carriage and deferentially place himself at the orders of the -ladies. On these occasions his manner was one of perfect -respect to both, of entire concurrence in the dictates and -desires of Doña Isabel, and of half-indifferent, half-amused -rejection of the immature and inconsequent conjectures -and opinions of the girl, for whose beauty he exhibited a -timid but irresistible recognition, which flattered while it -disarmed the suspicious mind of Doña Isabel. She believed -him still the ardent admirer of Rosario,—a thing -which, she reflected, was under the circumstances most -fortunate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the freshness and animation of those morning hours -conversation became natural and easy, and the events and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>names which were upon every tongue furnished food for -abundant reminiscence and comment. Doña Isabel was -eloquent in praise of Gonzales, who to his success at -El Toro had added others in the neighborhood, which -together with the occupation of Guanapila had made the -entire district the undisputed territory of Liberalism. -Ruiz assented to her enthusiasm with an ardor which -seemed but natural in a youth who having separated himself -from one powerful patron, should desire to place himself -beneath the protection of another; and a comparison -of the two, which should explain his defection from -the first, followed in natural course; and with carefully -chosen words, whose meaning held a subtile relation to -the thoughts and predilections of his two auditors, he -spoke of the intrepid and unscrupulous Ramirez.</p> - -<p class='c001'>More than once Doña Isabel, in the midst of his talk, -sank back in the carriage lost in deep and painful thought, -as the wild and terrible deeds in which that lawless man -had figured recalled to her mind the horrors of her youth. -Deeds such as these might have been planned and executed -by the boy who had once been the pride, as he was -afterward the bane, of her life, had he lived; but he was -dead. Yes, thank God! though her heart had bled inwardly -for long years; he had made no sign since the tale -of his end came—he was dead!</p> - -<p class='c001'>While she was thus lost in thought, Chinita listened -with glowing cheek and eyes. Ruiz knew of the meeting -with Ramirez to which she looked back with such peculiar -and unwearying fascination; and discerning in her admiration -of his former leader an unfailing means of rousing in -her a personal attraction which in her passionate nature -might become an absorbing love, he carefully refrained -from giving her any hint of his real sentiments toward -her hero, and spared no covert word, no mute eloquence -of his dark and expressive eyes, to increase an enthusiasm -which had already led her into such strange defiance of -the plans of Doña Isabel. To reinstate her hero in the -power from which he had fallen became Chinita’s dream, -the aspiration of her soul.</p> - -<p class='c001'>On the fifth night of their journey it chanced that they -entered a village, where Doña Isabel and her servants -were enabled to find a shelter, which after the restricted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>and insufficient accommodation of tents seemed absolutely -luxurious, primitive and rude though it was. Doña Isabel -wearied with travel, and depressed with anxiety at the -unaccountable delay of Gonzales, who she had supposed -would have hastened to take command of the troops that -her energy and bounty had provided, had early retired to -the room assigned her. Chinita had reluctantly accompanied -her, for a fandango was in progress in the great -kitchen, the charcoal brasiers flaming red against the dark -walls of yellow-washed adobe, and shining upon the -bronzed faces of a group of swarthy men, who strummed -upon stringed instruments of various shapes and sizes; -while another group of mingled men and women went -through the rhythmic motions of the dance, with which the -young girl, gazing from her cell-like retreat across the -court, had long been so familiar.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had never danced since the night that she had -fled from the wedding <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">fiesta</span></i> into the waiting arms of Doña -Isabel. She had thought of the scene and its pleasures -only with anger and disgust; and yet as she looked into -the red glare and watched the swaying figures, she longed -to rush in and throw herself among them. To her, as -to Doña Isabel, the time of suspense was growing unbearably -long; she was mad for action. Unreasonably, she -felt that there among their caste she might find Pedro, -Pepé,—some one who would do her bidding, who would -not dare put her off as Ruiz was doing with tantalizing -promises.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita knew that instead of following the most direct -paths as Doña Isabel had commanded, the route on various -pretexts had been changed,—she supposed to make -communication with Ramirez possible. She had no reason -to doubt the good faith of Ruiz, yet she was impatient and -miserable. A straggler upon the road had given them the -news that Ramirez had been seen upon the hills with a -forlorn and ill-armed troop, which bore evidence of the -ill fortune which the defeat at El Toro had inaugurated. -She had conceived a violent and unreasonable antagonism -to Gonzales, who from his whilom associate had become -the successful opponent and rival of the man whom by the -childish gift of an amulet she had fancied herself endowing -with invincible good fortune. Even as she grew older, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>her faith in the magic powers of a charm which had been -the creation of a wizard, and had been blessed by Holy -Church, scarcely grew less; and the remembrance of it -undoubtedly strengthened the fealty so strangely sworn. -Besides, a purpose had arisen in her mind of appealing to -Ramirez to establish her position in the house of Garcia, -by wresting from Doña Isabel an acknowledgment which -would give her rights and a certain status (though -clouded it might be) where now she was but the recipient -of favors,—the peasant born raised to a dignity which -was a mere scoff and jest to the ready wit of the sarcastic -and epigrammatic rancheros. Chinita knew them well. -Were not their gifts and prejudices her own?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Musing thus, the girl glanced from the barred window -where she stood back through the gloom of the apartment -to the bed where Doña Isabel was lying,—already asleep. -The yellow light of a candle just touched the lady’s pale -face; it was contracted with that habitual expression of -pain which the darkness of night permitted to the proud -and suffering woman, but which in the day, or under the -eye of even the most unobservant, she banished resolutely, -though its shadow rested ever uncomprehended, unpitied.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was something in the lassitude of Doña Isabel’s -figure, the hopeless grief upon the countenance, which for -the first time suggested to Chinita the possibility that -emotions deeper than that pride of birth which was as -great in degree in herself, though neither as pure in principle -nor bounded by the conventionalities of caste, had -actuated the deeds and embittered the life of her who to -the eye had been so absolute, so unassailable. With a -feeling of awe Chinita took a step toward the sleeper, when -a sound drew her glance to the court. Into the motley -throng of lounging soldiers and <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">arrieros</span></i>, with their mules -feeding and stamping around them, two belated travellers -forced their way. It was the voice of one of them that -had startled the watcher, and claimed instantly all her -thoughts, setting her heart beating stiflingly as she sprang -to the lattice and pressed her face eagerly against the -iron bars.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The red light from the kitchen was augmented by the -flame of a smoking torch, as a servant came forward to -take the horse of the foremost rider. When he leaped -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>lightly from his saddle, pushing back his broad hat, Chinita -recognized the American, while a woman ran across the -court and clasped the arm of the other as he alighted: -it was Juana, the wife of Gabriel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hist! hist!” said the man in a low voice, “no crying -nor screaming. The Señor and I are here on business -that would please your captain but little. By good fortune -he is camped to-night at the outskirts of the village, -and dare not leave his post. Tell me, Juana,—and -not a word to Gabriel when thou seest him,—where is -Chinita?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Before Juana could gather her wits to reply, a hand was -thrust through the bars almost at the speaker’s shoulder; -but it was Ashley who first saw it. He took it for an -instant in his own, and bent over it. “I must speak -with you, Chinita,” he said; “join me in the corridor as -soon as the house is quiet. I have much to say.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was not the voice of a lover that spoke, but it thrilled -her as that of a prophet. “Speak low,” she answered, -breathlessly, “Doña Isabel sleeps close by; but I will -escape,—yes, I will come to you. Is not Juana with you? -She must take my place here. The door is locked; the -key is in the hand of Doña Isabel. But I will have it, -trust me; the Senora sleeps heavily.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl’s face glowed with excitement; she was ready -for any adventure, the more daring the more welcome. -Ashley Ward looked at her with a strange pride and admiration: -this was a nature that no shame could crush, -no outward fate dismay!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita, standing at the grating, feeling an almost unrestrainable -desire to burst into wild laughter and tears, was -for some time utterly silent, waiting the hour when, the revelry -over, sleep would fall upon the house. Ashley drew -into the shade of the corridor. The inn was but a caravansary; -there was none to notice who came or went. In the -laughing, chattering crowd he was virtually alone. The -thoughts that came to him as the fires faded, as the noisy -revellers strolled one by one to their sleeping-places, and -the pale light of the stars shining down upon that strange -scene showed Pepé wrapped in his blanket, standing sentinel -at his side, were indescribable. A phantasmagoria -seemed to glide before him, in which Mary, his cousin, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>the ordinary places, scenes, and associates of his youth, -Ramirez, Chata, all the strange actors in this drama, in -new and ill-comprehended scenes, passed by; and in the -midst the door of a chamber cautiously opened, and the -girl of the siren face, which the very voice of fate had -seemed to bid him seek in this far land, stepped eagerly -and lightly forth to meet him.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>In an angle of the corridor, where from sunrise to -sunset a woman usually sat, selling cigarettes and small -glasses of <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">chia</span></i> to the passers-by, stood a low <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">banquito</span></i>, -which was in fact only a superfluous adobe jutting out -from the massive wall. Ashley withdrew his foot from this -rude stool and greeted Chinita ceremoniously, and yet -with an air of protecting authority, inviting her by a gesture -to be seated, saying, “So you will be less likely to -be seen by any chance comer. But from necessity, I -would not have asked you to speak to me here.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl looked at him with a little quiver of laughter rippling -her mouth, though her eyes were anxious. Evidently -she was troubled with no sense of impropriety, and -the thought of having eluded Doña Isabel diverted her. -Instead of obeying Ashley’s invitation, she darted to -Pepé’s side, caught a fold of his blanket in her hand, and -drew it from his half-covered face.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, Pepito, and is it thou?” she cried breathlessly. -“What news dost thou bring me? Hast thou then seen -my godfather, and what does he say of the Señor General? -Does he not think the plan a good one?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé shuffled uneasily to regain possession of the blanket, -answering pettishly and in a stifled voice, “Is the -servant to talk when the master stands by with the words -ready? Go now, Chinita, you knew better than that -when Florencia used to pull your ears for a saucy one!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl pouted, turning to Ashley with a lowering -face. She felt instinctively that what had been to her a -matter of simple expediency, a means of securing the fortunes -of a man who was in her imagination all that was -noble and great, might have a meaner aspect to this -stranger, who would perhaps think she had meant harm -to Doña Isabel. Why had Pepé dragged this American -into the matter at all? Idiot! Ruiz had said nothing but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>evil would come of it; and here was the stranger standing -so straight and silent to be questioned,—and looking at -her, too, with a sort of pity in the curious gaze he turned -upon her. She felt half inclined to turn back to the room -whence she had come; yet she said somewhat mockingly,</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is you, Señor, who must speak, though it was the -servant I sent on my errand; but perhaps you have seen -Pedro and asked him my questions?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You had better sit down, Chinita,” answered Ashley, -severely. “I should not be here to-night if it were not -to tell you things hard for you to listen to, and only to -learn of matters of life or death should you have consented -to come. Heavens! what a strange perversity of fate that -you of all others should be anxious for the welfare, infatuated -with the character, of—Ramirez!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He spoke the name as though it were a curse, and the -ready flame leaped into Chinita’s eyes and cheek.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, then,” she said, in a low but intense and penetrating -tone, “you have come to tell me, like the others, -that he is a brigand and a wretch! It is false! He is -too brave, too daring, too noble for such cowardly spirits -as yours to understand! Pepé, thou wert a craven. -Stupid, it was Pedro I bade thee go to, not to this pale -American, who has lost all his blood through a single -wound!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley smiled faintly, vexed to find himself stung by a -girl’s unreasoning passion, but interposed quietly, “We -lose time, Señorita, which is prudent neither for you nor -for me. I beg you will listen to what I have to say. You -will agree with me then that this is no hour to talk of my -courage or the lack of it.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He had stepped between her and Pepé, to whom with -a strange perversity she turned as if to show her disdain -for the foreigner, whose every word had a tone of -reproach. A mere suggestion that the proprieties which -Doña Feliz and Doña Isabel had attempted to graft upon -the rude stalk of her untrained, unguarded childhood had -some other meaning than an elder’s caprices, touched Chinita’s -mind: a young man could know nothing of woman’s -freaks and prejudices; she felt the hot blood rising to her -cheek as she encountered his quiet gaze. All at once the -court and corridor seemed to become wonderfully dark -<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>and still. A slight shudder ran through her frame; she -drew back from the American and sat down where he had -directed her, drawing her reboso close around her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señor,” she said, quite humbly, “I am listening.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley did not speak at once, though Pepé seemed to urge -him to do so by a motion of the head, which betokened -readiness to confirm his speech; and when he began, it -was at a point entirely unexpected by either listener.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señorita,” he said, “is it not true that when you -think of an American, you have in your mind a pale-faced, -mysterious, unresisting youth, gliding spectre-like about -the hacienda walls, tempting by a love-song the bloody -steel of some dark and daring desperado? In a word, is it -not the vision—distorted, insufficient, faint—of my murdered -cousin, John Ashley, that comes before you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young girl started. “Yes! yes!” she said hurriedly, -not knowing what she said. “At least, once I -thought like that. I had not seen an American then; I -did not know—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And the first American you have known has had the -benefit of the preconception,” interrupted Ashley, grimly. -“Well, it is something to know the secret of a contemptuous -indifference which has always been so frankly expressed.” -This comment was in English, and though Chinita -watched the motion of his lips, their silence could not -have given her better opportunity to recover her confused -and startled thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Then it is true,” she said. “You are of the family of -the poor American, who was killed like a rabbit by a -hawk. Why, they say that he could not have even -clapped his hand on his belt, though a <em>man</em> from very -instinct would draw a knife on his enemy, even in his last -gasp. Is it not so, Pepito? I used to tell Chata that, -when she would shed her soft tears of pity for him. Well, -I could not cry, but I have watched at the mesquite-tree -for the coming of his ghost a thousand times; yet I -never saw it—and it was I who found his grave.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And it was you who bade Pepé show it me,” interrupted -Ashley; “and perhaps not as a mere jest as he -thought.” She nodded, looking up at him vaguely and -keenly. “You thought perhaps I had come these many -miles from my own country to find it?” he added. “Well, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>that was scarcely so; it had not presented itself to me as -possible that the obscure grave of a murdered foreigner -should be remembered still, and that his name should be -found above it. No, I came for proofs of John Ashley’s -life, not of his death. It was not even to trace his murderer -or to avenge him that I came.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She looked incredulous. “Why then should you -come?” she asked. “Had you a vow? If I had known -and loved the dead man, it would have been to kill the -man who struck him in secret that I would have come. -But it is as Captain Ruiz says,—the blood of an American -runs so slowly it cools his heart, while ours is a -burning torrent that causes the soul to leap and the hand -to smite at a word.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley realized that impatient contempt of him was -struggling with a feeling to which, with sudden apprehension -of its importance, she dared not give utterance; or -perhaps the idea that had long been shaping itself was -for the moment obscured, but yet in the darkness and -confusion was growing to an overwhelming certainty in -her mind. Chinita had risen to her feet, but suddenly she -sat down, covering her face with a hand which Ashley -saw in the dim light shook with suppressed excitement. -Her attitude was that of a listener; and in a low voice he -told her of his boyhood, of the days when he had come -in from school and stood at the shoulder of his grown -cousin,—the young man with the silky shadow just darkening -his upper lip, and with the clear frank eyes of a -boy, who looked so eagerly forward into the active life of -manhood, restive under the restraints and cautions that -hampered him, until at last he broke away, and was no -more seen, nor scarcely heard of, until the news of his -early and violent death came to cast an unending gloom -over the household, which before had been captious, foreboding, -but ever loving, ever secretly proud of the bold, -irrepressible spirit it could not chain to its standard of -decorum, or tame to walk in the narrow path of uneventful -and passionless existence. The years of his own -youth he passed lightly by; there was nothing in them -for comment until he came to the time of his aunt’s death, -his inheritance of the fortune that should have been John -Ashley’s, the reading of those few letters which had given -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>to Mary Ashley such strange dreams, and which in the -re-reading had filled his mind with thoughts of the same -possibilities that racked her own. He spoke of them -briefly in a single sentence: “We found by his letters -that he believed himself married; it was to find the -woman he had loved, or any trace of her, that I came.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita sat so still one might have doubted if she -heard; but that very stillness convinced Ashley that she -listened with an absorbing interest, too great for questioning. -She could but wait breathlessly for what was -to come.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“After long and vexatious wanderings I was taken -wounded to Tres Hermanos,” continued the young man. -“There, when my hope was almost exhausted, I heard -the name that had been in my mind so long,—heard it -only to make inquiries which ended in confusion, and -threatened to involve me in endless complications; so -at last I was glad to suffer myself to be convinced that -my conjectures were the mere vagaries of an overburdened -fancy, a too scrupulous conscience, and to turn my -face homeward, determined that thereafter I would live -my life, and take in peace the goods fortune sent me. -In such a mind I rode with the troop across the plain -and up the desolate hillside, along which the scattered -graves of the poor lay, the mounds scarce noticeable -among the rocks and cacti. Pepé remembered your jesting -command; it would give him an opportunity to withdraw -from the troops unheeded. He invited me to go -with him to see something that would interest me. When -I saw the grave, my heart began to beat; when I read -the name upon the fallen cross, the blood rushed into my -eyes and suffocated me; every drop in my heart accused -me! There lay my cousin murdered, and in looking for -a possible claimant to his name, I had forgotten him! -I had forgotten that his death was still unatoned for, -the murderer undiscovered, unsought, unpunished.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita dropped her hand from her face and looked up, -her eyes glowing, her lips apart, her bosom rising and -falling with the quick breath that came and went. Here -were words she could understand; here was a spirit that -touched her own.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And then, then, then?” she muttered; and Pepé -<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>leaned out from the wall, like a gaunt shadow, to hear the -narration, as if every word was too significant to allow a -single one to escape him. “Then?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Then,” resumed Ashley, “I seemed chained to the -spot. I could not tear myself away, though reason told -me that to stay there was useless; to hasten forward and -demand the truth from those I had hitherto shrunk from -offending, the only course open to me. Reason as I -would, I could not force myself to leave the spot. After -a time, yielding to necessity and to my command, Pepé -left me. I was alone for hours with the dead. My mind -was full of him; I heard his voice; I looked into the eyes -which death had closed for so many unregarded years. -I saw before me that face which I had so long forgotten; -but my fancy pictured him never as in life, gay, happy, -resolute, but pale, bloody, corpse-like, stretching out -dead hands to me and speaking with the soundless voice -of those we dream of. Who remembers the tone of a -voice, silent forever? Yet it echoes in our heart; it -awakens our joys, our griefs, our fears; it is more powerful, -more terrible, than any living voice. And so upon -that day was the voice of the dead John Ashley to me. -As I listened to it, I swore never to leave Mexico until -the mystery of his death, as well as that of his life, was -open to me; until I had called to account the villain who -had cut him off so secretly, so vilely.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“While I was full of the thought, and the whole world -around me seemed to stretch on every side silent, void, -waiting for me to choose whither I would go, in what direction -I would set out to seek the nameless object of the -new absorbing passion, which seemed more vital, more essential -to my being than the air I breathed, I felt a presence -near me. I looked up,—a man was leaning over the -wall. I instantly conjectured he was not the mere peasant -his dress indicated. A sense of mysterious connection -between his life and mine seized upon me; it strengthened -as he crossed the wall and strode toward me over -the sunken graves. He came as though under a spell; I -looked upon him as if under the fascination of a serpent-like -gaze. I recoiled, yet for worlds I would not have -turned from him. His eyes fell upon the cross; the expression -of his face, the words that sprang from his lips,—vague -<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>though they were,—sped to my brain with an <a id='corr340.1'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='elecric'>electric</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_340.1'><ins class='correction' title='elecric'>electric</ins></a></span> -thrill. I knew the man before me was John Ashley’s -murderer.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita had risen. She stretched out her hand and -touched the hilt of the knife in Ashley’s belt. It was the -action of a moment, yet it was a question that the quick -beating of her heart and the panting breath made at the -instant impossible from her lips. Ashley answered it by -a brief account of the combat and its interruption.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As he ended, she drew a deep breath of relief. It did -not occur to him that it could be for any other than himself. -It flattered and pleased him, for an instant he realized -how deeply, as having in it something of the tender -unreasoning fears of gentle womanhood. Yet the readiness -with which she had comprehended his passion for -revenge, while it justified him, had set her in a harsh and -cruel aspect, which made her lithe, dark beauty forbidding, -unrelenting, tiger-like. Yet this strange young -creature, he thought, at once so foreign to him, and -still so near, concealed after all, under the surface of incomprehensible -moods and half barbaric customs, those -attributes of gentleness, those instincts of justness, which -amidst the perplexing differences of national manners -and standards of good and evil may be distinguished -and understood by every mind. At that moment Ashley -felt her to be less an alien than he had ever been able -before to consider her. She was not only beautiful, bewitching, -but in part, at least, comprehensible.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita stood silent for many moments; she had not -even started when he spoke the name Ramirez. The personality -of the man of whom he had spoken had been a -foregone conclusion in her mind.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It was the amulet I gave him that saved him,” she -said simply; and Ashley stared at her blankly, not comprehending -the meaning of her words, but only that the -relief she had experienced had been rather for the aggressor -than for him. Had he then been mistaken? Was -she an entire stranger to the thought which so permeated -his own mind that he had imagined it must be present in -hers?</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, the amulet that I gave him must have all the virtues -Pedro told me of,” she said musingly. “So it was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>the General Ramirez who killed the American? <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Dios -mio!</span></i> he must have had good cause; yet it angers me. -Ah! it is well I have time to think what cause he must -have had!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Cause!” ejaculated Ashley, “cause!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl nodded her head in an argumentative way. In -the dim light Ashley could read the struggle in her mind,—indignation -at the deed, dismay at its consequences, -battling with attempted justification of the perpetrator. -“By my patron saint!” she exclaimed at length, “it -was the woman who was to blame. Why did she torture -him? He must have loved her; and what was there in -the American to make her false to Ramirez? Strange -she should have preferred another to him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“For God’s sake say no more!” cried Ashley, with -actual horror in his voice. “I forgot that this tale has -no deeper significance to you than any other; that the -American is to you simply an American, and Ramirez -the hero of your own countrymen, by whose desperate -deeds your imagination is dazzled, and for whom, even in -the midst of horror, you find excuse, admiration, justification. -To you he seems but a jealous lover, taking just -revenge upon a successful rival.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita spoke not a word, but bent her head as though -his words were an accusation. Her face, in the dim light, -was so impassive it was impossible for Ashley to conjecture -what was passing in her mind. Did she remember that -he had said he had come to seek a child, and was it possible -that the mystery of her own birth had not suggested -to her that she might have an interest in the ghastly deed -of Ramirez far deeper than would make natural or possible -to her the excuse of jealousy in the perpetrator? He -had learned something of the reticence and self-restraint -of these people since he had come among them; yet was it -possible this young girl could suspend judgment in such -a cause until her own relation to it was fully ascertained? -Were prejudice, education, sentiment, so much stronger -than the voice of Nature? Did no instinct cry in her -heart, denouncing this man, of whom she had made a -hero,—no womanly pity hover over his victim? What a -ready apprehension she had shown of Ashley’s own desire -for vengeance! Was that simply because it was the passion -<span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>strongest in her own soul, and so gave to her ready -excuse even for murder?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Under the moonlight it seemed to him that the young -girl’s face grew hard as marble. No, she was not one to -yield her faith lightly. This deed, which had filled the -mind of Chata with dismay, and intensified a thousand-fold -the horror in which she held the character of the man whom -she believed it sin not to reverence and love, would in no -wise shake the faith and admiration of this stronger soul, -who could condone it with the thought that a woman -had played the murderer false.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yet with all this, Señor,” she said at length, looking -up, “if you have no more to tell me, I see not why this -should turn me against the Señor General. For you it is -different—oh, quite different; but for me,—” She paused -suddenly, and Ashley saw that the hand which hung at -her side was clenched till the nails marked her flesh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Yes, the deed itself was nothing,—a trifle, at most,—but -in its relation to her, how great, how terrible, it might -become!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley was not deceived. He felt that by a word he might -fan into a resistless flame the fire that lay smouldering in -that resolute heart,—a word which would be no surprise -to her, which would but confirm the conviction against -which, in loyalty to Ramirez, she struggled with even a -certain anger against the persistent suspicion that made -the legendary and unheroic figure of the American a mute -denouncer, more powerful, more persuasive, than the living -man who had revealed the author of the tragedy -which through all her life had been so dark a mystery. -It seemed to Ashley that she held her breath to listen to -his next words; but he could be as hard as she was herself -to this girl, whose heart seemed incapable of feeling aught -but a personal injury, or any passion but revenge.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señorita,” he said, “I went back to the hacienda. -My horse had fled; there was nothing else for me to do, if -I would find means to follow this man who had suddenly -become my debtor in all the dues of outraged kinship. -My object was to obtain money, a horse and guide, and -to regain the troop as quickly as should be possible; to -denounce this murderer to Doña Isabel, and reveal the -plot against her interests which had appeared to me so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>weak, so absolutely absurd, but which now assumed an -importance commensurate with my detestation of him -whom it was designed to serve. But with further thought -my resolution changed. If all her agents were false,—Pedro, -Ruiz, as well as you, whom I know to be” -(Chinita winced),—“and Pepé should be successful in -inducing Pedro to play into the hands of Ramirez, what -power could Doña Isabel employ to prevent that change -of leadership which it was more than probable the troops—indifferent -to the cause, eager only for action and -booty—would accept with acclamations? Clearly, my -only course was to proceed to El Toro and arouse the -too confident Gonzales, who in incomprehensible inactivity -was awaiting the promised succor,—incomprehensible if -the emissaries of Doña Isabel had reached him; for, as I -knew, not one word in reply had been returned.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I had much to ask of Doña Isabel Garcia,—questions -which had burned upon my lips before; but reflection -told me I was no more ready to ask them now than I had -been; that her pride might be still as obdurate. No, there -were months before me in which by gradual assault I -might acquire all the knowledge I would in vain endeavor -to gain by sudden force. I was confident that if by no -stratagem or treason Ramirez ultimately could place himself -at the head of these troops, he would be found in the -field against them. I learned that he hated Gonzales as a -personal, no less than a political, foe. Gonzales then was -the man for me to follow. In serving Doña Isabel against -the machinations of those she had so blindly trusted, I -should serve myself; keep in view the mocking fiend -whose downfall I had sworn, and perchance satisfy myself -in regard to the still importunate doubts which had -led to my presence amid these strange scenes.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I had intended to leave the hacienda upon the very -night of my return, but on my way—Well, that is nothing -to the purpose; I reached it exhausted. But the -early morning found me in the saddle. My strength revived -with every step toward El Toro. Once we caught -sight of the long line of the hacienda troop crossing the -open plain. We had passed through cañons and byways, -and were far in advance of them. More than once in the -mountains we heard the name of Ramirez, and made wide -<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>detours of hamlets where men were gathering in twos -and threes and sixes,—ragged, unkempt, unarmed for the -most part, but full of enthusiasm in their leader, and confident -of booty and glory. Without doubt, the reverse of -Ramirez at El Toro would not remain unavenged. I realized -the spell of that potent name, the very echo of which -seemed to be as eloquent as the living voice of most men, -chieftains and leaders though they might be.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita’s eyes glistened; she raised herself with a proud -gesture, as if the involuntary tribute to the genius of the -adventurer was a personal commendation.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Though we avoided the villages,” continued Ashley, -“I did not hesitate to question the few passengers we met -upon the roads. These were chiefly wandering traders, -stooping under their burdens of clay-ware or charcoal, adherents -of no particular party, and reticent or the opposite, -as their natural impulses or the supposed necessities of the -time prompted. These I plied in vain for news of Pedro, -of Pepé, or even of the noted Ramirez himself. Each and -every one seemed to have passed, and left not even a memory -behind; though from these very ranchos and hamlets I -knew Doña Isabel’s troops had been drawn, and that the -followers of Ramirez were daily drawing more,—forcing -those they could not persuade, laughing at the protestations -of the women, and feeding the adventurous ardor of the men -with tales of daring exploits and promises of plunder. All -this we heard, and knew the whole country was in a ferment, -yet passed through it undetected, on our own part -unable to catch a glimpse or hear a word of the covert -from which Ramirez directed and inspired the movement. -Travelling rapidly, we entered upon the third day a deep -gorge, which cut the foothills of the very mountain that -overshadowed the towers of the convent town toward which -I was journeying. Still a painful stretch of twelve hours, -of an almost pathless labyrinth of rock and sand, I was -told, lay before us; and early in the evening I ordered a -halt, intending to set forth before the day broke. One of -my servants spoke of a spring which he knew of; and -though the season was so dry that we had little hope of -discovering it, we decided to push on, although at every -step the horses seemed to protest against the effort,—for -they had been ridden mercilessly, without change and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>almost without food or rest. As we neared the spot where -we hoped to find water, the aspect of the country seemed -to grow even more forbidding.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘The dry season has swallowed it,’ said the servant -dejectedly, after a careful survey of the locality. ‘There -is nothing here but sand,—a dry welcome for our thirsty -beasts;’ and at a signal from me he threw himself from -the saddle, and tethering his panting horse, clambered up -the gorge to gather a handful of dry grease-wood with -which to light a fire. Meanwhile, his fellow busied himself -in unpacking the few articles we had brought, and I threw -myself on the ground against a rock, feeling myself more -secure in that wild and secluded pass than I had done -since I left the hacienda.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The place was very still. Although it was yet daylight -in the world without, the whole gorge was in shadow. -The crackling of the herbage under the horses’ feet, or a -low word occasionally spoken by the men, was all that -broke the stillness. I suppose from thought I was gradually -falling into slumber, when the sound of horses galloping, -of men laughing and shouting, broke upon the air. I -started to my feet and seized my arms, calling for the -men; but they had disappeared; the three horses were -rearing and plunging. I caught and succeeded in mounting -my own; but as the cavalcade drew near, I realized -that its members were so numerous and in such mad humor -that it would be worse than folly for me to approach them. -One of my men had recovered from his panic, and stole -up to me with blanched face and wide-staring eyes. I -pointed to the horses, and with wonderful dexterity he -bounded into the saddle of one, and caught the bridle of -the other. In as little time as it takes me to tell it, we -gained the shelter of the rock. Calmed by a few low -words, the horses stood motionless, and from our covert -we saw the company of lawless soldiery go by.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ramirez was at their head; and by a cord at his bridle-rein -was tied a man, who vainly strove to keep pace with the -gallop of his horse. At almost every step he fell, and was -struck by the hoofs of the foremost horses, whose riders -leaning down brought him again to his feet with blows from -the flat sides of their swords. There were perhaps thirty -ruffians engaged in this brutal sport; and after them ran -<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>a man at such a pace as only an Indian could maintain, -even for moments, wringing his hands and praying and -crying,—alternately a prayer and a curse. And in him, -more by his voice, gasping and hoarse though it was, than -by sight, I recognized Pepé Ortiz.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita would have screamed, but the ready hand of the -peasant closed over her mouth. “The man! the man tied -to the horse’s rein!” she gasped, when he released her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I could not see his face, and he had no breath to cry -out,” said Ashley. “They passed so closely, I could have -shot Ramirez like a dog. But I seemed paralyzed by -horror. It did for me what perhaps a moment’s reflection -would have done had I been capable of it,—it saved me -from suicide. To have moved then would have been certain -death. I could not comprehend the mad jests of -those around the victim; but a moment after they passed I -heard a sound which to all ears conveys the same meaning,—a -pistol shot,—and the voice of Ramirez crying,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> the next fall would have killed him, and -the dog should die only by my hand. There! I have paid -the debt I owed thee,—thou knowest for what. It should -have been paid thee like the other villain’s years ago. -Would that I had dragged him at my horse’s rein as -I have thee!’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The man fell; a soldier, with a laugh, cut the rope; -all swept on with shouts and laughter,—Ramirez the -quietest among them. In a few minutes they were far up -the gorge. One glance had satisfied Ramirez that his shot -had reached its aim.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“None seemed to remember the panting wretch behind. -I had reached the prostrate body as soon as he, and together -we raised it up. Under the mask of bruises and blood -and the dust of the roadway, I recognized the man I had -been seeking,—Pedro Gomez.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé caught Chinita on his outstretched arm,—she had -staggered as though struck by a heavy blow. Ashley -sprang to her side in remorse,—he had spared her nothing -in the recital; but she had not fainted. She raised -herself slowly, and lifting her arms above her head, wrung -her hands in speechless agony.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The man who had been murdered years before had been -a shadow, a myth, in her mind. He became at that supreme -<span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>moment a living presence, joining with, blent with, -the martyred Pedro in denunciation of the man whom -she had raised in her admiration to a pinnacle of glory. -The idol of years crashed to the earth, in semblance of -a demon,—and with it fell the stoicism and pride that -had encased as in bands of steel the softer emotions of -her nature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Murdered! murdered both!” she moaned at length. -“Was it not enough he should bereave me even before I -came into the world, but that he should so vilely slay the -only creature who has loved me? Oh, my God!” she -added, shuddering, “why have I been so cursed as to have -given one thought to such a wretch? Oh! forgive, forgive, -forgive!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXVI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>To whom was that vain cry addressed? Ashley questioned -not, but clasping in his the icy hands which strove to -smite and beat each other, spoke such words of soothing -as came readiest in the stranger tongue he found so inadequate. -He realized that it was not to him Chinita directed -that wail of self-abasement and remorse; and he also apprehended -somewhat of the wild joy that would have been -his, had she involuntarily turned to him in the anguish of -her desolation. But she was scarcely conscious of his presence, -and in her frenzy—terrible to witness, though it was -not loud—even Pepé’s rough accents were unheeded.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Niña</span></i> of my soul!” he said earnestly, “Pedro is not -dead. No, it is not a lie I tell thee! Who would lie to -thee in such an hour as this? I have come to tell thee -that he lives; ’t was he himself who sent me.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“He himself!”, she echoed at last, turning her wild, -tearless eyes upon Pepé’s face. “Ah, it is because thou -art here that I know he is dead, else thou wouldst not -dare to leave him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And by my faith, it is not of my own will I am here!” -answered Pepé, bluntly. “Señor Don ’Guardo, you can -tell her that.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I can in truth,” replied Ashley, who seeing that the -peasant’s words were received by her but as mere attempts -to defer the evil moment when the inevitable assurance of -the death of her foster-father must be given her,—so -well did she know the customs and manners of her country -people, ever prone to useless prevarication, even in -their deepest sorrow,—hastened to describe to her the -few scant means they had found in his extremity to recall -the exhausted Pedro to the life that had apparently -been thrust and beaten and driven from him forever.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The ball of the pistol had but grazed the cheek of the -tortured man; the blood and dust had deceived the accustomed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>eyes of Ramirez, as it had deceived their own. -The greater danger arose from the frightful condition of -laceration and fatigue to which the mad race through the -stony cañon had reduced him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In a few words Pepé told the tale. He and Pedro had -met but the day before, and it was while hastening to El -Toro to apprize Gonzales of the plot that Pepé, in the -petition of Chinita, had revealed to the indignant Pedro, -that they had encountered face to face the irate chieftain -and his followers. Pepé understood little of the cause -that led to their being seized, dragged from their horses, -and threatened with instant death. Both alike protested -innocence of any scheme to baffle or injure the mountain -chieftain; but he understood too well the ease with which -a foe too weak to fight could assume the aspect of a friend. -At the worst, however, Pepé imagined they might be -forced to turn back on their way to spend a few unwilling -hours among the bandit followers, until chance should -give them opportunity to escape. But Ramirez’s memory -was keen as it was vengeful. Suddenly he bent and gazed -searchingly into the face of the elder prisoner.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah!” he exclaimed, with an oath, “I know thee! -Thou art Pedro Gomez.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro, who till this moment had bent his head to avoid -the gaze of his captors, raised it swiftly with an ejaculation -of amazement. A red handkerchief bound the brows -of Ramirez; his face was swarthy and grimed with hard -riding.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, and thou knowest me, too!” Ramirez cried. -“Thou hast called me a devil more than once in thy lifetime; -and now I will prove thy word true. Hereafter -thou wilt have no further chance for that, or for opening -the gate to the man who would make my—” He -gnashed his teeth in speechless rage, and with his sword -struck the keeper across the face.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The action spoke louder than words. Some one, in -ready comprehension of the leader’s mood, threw a lasso, -and catching the prisoner across the breast began to -mimic the wild shouts of a bull-fighter. But Ramirez was -in no humor for pastime.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“On! on!” he cried. “’T is nearly sunset. Let us -see how far on our way this fellow can accompany us -<span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span>till then; and then by a vow I made to my patron San -Leonidas, more than a score of years ago, he shall die. -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> did ever man play Ramirez false, and he forget -to pay him his dues?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé, amid the shouts and laughter of the band, heard -these words with a wild sense of terror; but it was only -when he beheld Pedro struggling at the side of the plunging -horse, that he realized that the gate-keeper was to be -dragged to his death. He had heard of Ramirez’s wild -jests, and imagined that this might be one, until he beheld -the cortège speeding forward, urging the unhappy -Pedro before them with blows and jeers, or exhibiting -their wonderful horsemanship in evading his prostrate -body,—which, however, more than once, as he fell, -sounded under the thud of the horses’ feet.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pepé could have escaped at any moment, for in the concentration -of attention upon Pedro his companion had -been utterly forgotten; but he followed madly, expostulating, -entreating, cursing, while his breath allowed; and -then was swept onward in the whirl, seemingly almost -unconscious, till he heard the shot that ended the mad -scene, and found himself staggering over the body of the -bleeding Pedro.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The sight of Ashley, as unexpected as it was reassuring, -as though an angel had arisen, saved the wretched youth -from utter collapse of mind and body. But for the new -excitement he would have fallen prone, and had he ever -regained consciousness it would have been to find his comrade -dead. But under the impulse of Ashley’s energetic -action and sustaining words, he even helped to raise the -victim, in whom, lacerated though he was, Ashley soon -discovered a feeble flutter of the heart.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“We took him to the shelter of the rock,” said Ashley, -who had by signs hastened Pepé’s conclusion of the account, -which, related in his own profuse manner, was far more -agonizing than the brief outline here given, “and found -that his extraordinary powers of endurance, though strained -to the uttermost, had stood him in wonderful stead. An -arm was broken, and every muscle so wrenched and -strained that when he regained his consciousness the -resolute will, which during the progress of the torture had -withheld him from uttering protest or groan, utterly gave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>way, and he screamed in agony. Happily his persecutors -were too far distant to be recalled by those unrestrainable -cries of returning consciousness. Even while we poured -brandy down his throat, and rubbed and stretched his -limbs, it seemed as though it would have been a thousand -times more charitable to suffer him to die than to recall -him to such agony. When he regained full consciousness, -however, the cries ceased,—not because the pain -was less, but that the will regained its mastery. “As -his eyes fell upon me, he gazed at me a moment as upon -an apparition. So wild was his look, I thought he was -going mad.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Don Juan! here! here!’ he muttered hoarsely. -‘Are we in hell together? But, no!’ he sprang up, then -fell back with a groan. ‘I shall live to warn her yet. -Oh God, that the child should entreat me to turn traitor -for him! But she shall not fall into his accursed hands. -Never! never! Ah, Pepé, thou art here; hasten, hasten! -tell her she is the child of John Ashley, the man Ramirez -murdered. What though I die? She will be saved! Go! -go! I pray <a id='corr351.21'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='you!’'>you!’”</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_351.21'><ins class='correction' title='you!’'>you!’”</ins></a></span></p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita started. Ward anticipated some outburst of -emotion, but the glance she flashed back at him indicated -simply keen intelligence; the springs of feeling remained -untouched. With an effort Ward continued:—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“My recreant servant had returned. It was Stefano, -whom you know well. He is a coward, but ready in -resource, and with a kindly heart. He knew the country -well, and told us of a cave he once had slept in, and led -us to it unerringly. To our surprise we found there a -scanty supply of toasted corn, left by some wandering -tenant, and a quantity of water, still fresh enough to show -that the cave had not long been empty. There was a remnant -of a woman’s dress in one corner,—heaven knows -how brought there,—and this we used to bind the pistol -wound; while Stefano used the best means available in -setting the broken arm. These rancheros are possessed -of strange accomplishments,—I don’t believe a surgeon -could have done it with more skill.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“During the course of our passage through the dusk, -bearing as best we could our groaning burden, Pedro’s hallucination -that I was John Ashley merged into recognition. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>It was but little I could do for him, but it filled him -with gratitude. ‘You are a good Christian,’ he ejaculated -again and again; and once in the night, when the others -slept, he muttered ‘<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Niña, niña</span></i> Herlinda, forgive me! I -am dying. You bade me protect the child! Ah, even in -life it has not been possible! Is she not in the hands you -bade me defend her from?’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“These sentences, murmured at intervals, kept me -waking while all others slept, hanging over him with -entreaties to disburden his mind of the secret which -weighed so heavily upon him that it seemed under it -he could neither live nor die.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Tell me at least,’ I said, ‘who is this man called -Ramirez, whom I saw this evening wreak upon you so -terrible a revenge? How comes it that you are so hated -by the man for whom your foster-daughter is plotting? -Have you not been his follower in by-gone days? Surely -it is not Chinita who has set such enmity between you!’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘No, no! it began before she was born,’ answered -Pedro shudderingly, his pale countenance becoming more -ghastly still. ‘Oh, Lady of Sorrows!’ he continued, as if -forgetful of my presence, ‘was it not enough that the child -should fall again into the power of Doña Isabel,—she who -tore it from its mother’s breast to cast it among the beggars -who feed with the dogs at her gates,—but that her -father’s murderer, her mother’s destroyer, should wield -this devil’s witchcraft over her? My God, who will defend -her? Who will rescue her?’”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita raised her head, her nostrils quivering, the veins -upon her neck and temples swollen and palpitating.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Tell her the truth,’ I said! ‘Then she will be her -own defender; and I—you know me; for what other purpose -am I here but to shield her? Yes, Pedro, the secret -you have kept so long is mine as well as yours. John -Ashley, my cousin, died because he dared love a woman -named Herlinda; and that Herlinda was the daughter of -Doña Isabel Garcia.’” A look of <a id='corr352.37'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='indiscribable'>indescribable</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_352.37'><ins class='correction' title='indiscribable'>indescribable</ins></a></span> hauteur -and triumph passed over Chinita’s rigid face, while Ashley -continued,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Pedro stared at me in wild dismay, ‘<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Niña, niña!</span></i>’ he -muttered, piteously, ‘I have not betrayed thee; and Doña -Isabel, though you have taken the child from me which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>you thrust upon me in such mockery, have I not borne the -torture meekly? No, even to this man, so like the other -that he needed not to tell his name and kin, I have told -nothing to shame you!’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“His words sprang from his lips in spite of the will -that would have kept them back; for a time he was like a -man under the influence of a maddening draught. Striving -to calm him by the assurance that I would never use -the knowledge he might give me to dishonor the family to -which his whole life had been devoted, I drew from him -little by little his strange tale. It concerns neither you -nor me, Chinita, until in recompense for secret service -done her in the cause of her wretched brother Leon, Doña -Isabel Garcia made Pedro gate-keeper at Tres Hermanos. -There my unfortunate cousin gained his good offices in his -secret meetings with the young Herlinda. The man seems -in truth to have been conscious of no serious offence against -Doña Isabel in lending his aid to the tender intercourse of -the young lovers, although he was cognizant of her plans -regarding the marriage of Herlinda and Gonzales. My -cousin claimed the right to visit his wife; and Pedro took -his gold and was silent, if not convinced.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Ah, how joyously Ashley left his wife—for the last -time,’ Pedro exclaimed at length, ceasing to expect my -questions and taking the tone of narrative. ‘Yes, Don -Juan called Herlinda always his wife: what was the keeper -of the gate to demand,—the word of a priest forsooth, -rather than that of the man whom his mistress loved? -Ah! Doña Isabel I knew would ask all, or the young -Gonzales. One cannot do worse than put his hand in a -boiling pot, and wherefore do that when it hangs over his -neighbor’s fire? Yes, never had Ashley seemed more confident, -more gay. “I shall not again need to waken thee -at midnight to let me pass like a thief who leaves a bribe,” -he said; “to-morrow I shall be free to come and go as -I will.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Alas!’ the remorseful Pedro continued, ‘as my eyes -followed the young American, I thought any woman might -be pardoned for loving him: had he not beguiled my own -heart? for I swear I loved him. Yet I wondered at the -courage of the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Niña</span></i> Herlinda,—she who had seemed so -timid, so yielding to her mother’s every wish. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>it is true,—“There is nothing too strong for love or -death.” I laughed as Ashley stepped forth, to think how -youth in its folly can baffle caution, when a voice behind -me echoed the sound. The blood froze in my veins, so -overpowering was the very presence near me even before -it touched me. Almighty powers! when I looked up, -the man in the peasant’s dress, whom only a few hours -before I had admitted as a stranger within the walls, hurled -himself upon me; but the blaze in his eyes could burn -only from the fierce and terrible rage of the evil spirit of -that house. It was Leon Vallé who dashed me down -and rushed out into the night.’”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita uttered an exclamation; then repeating the name, -“Leon! Leon Vallé,” listened with bated breath, while -Ashley continued in the words of Pedro:—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘I knew at the moment that Ashley was lost. Not a -thousand prayers, nor the swiftest aid my cries could have -gained him, would have saved him. I waited, scarce -daring to breathe; with strained ears I listened. Would -the murderer, his first work accomplished, return? I knew -then he held my life forfeit; yet had he returned, I should -have opened the gate to him. Ah, you know not the -power of that man! As it was in Leon Vallé then, so it is -now in Ramirez. God, what power in those terrible eyes! -I felt it then, I felt it to-day. What resistance was possible? -The morning came. I was still alive, but the people -came to me crying of the dead. What need had I to -ask the name? In the midst of the tumult a terrible -shriek rang on my ears. I thought my brain was turning. -There was but one thought that steadied it,—confession, -confession to Doña Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘As soon as it was possible I sought her presence. I -cannot tell you what passed; I only know the words I -would have spoken died on my lips. Whether Doña Isabel -had known of it or not, I could not determine; but that -the love of Herlinda Garcia and the young American was -to die with him, and that the terrible vengeance which had -been worked for her was not to be in vain, seared itself upon -my mind. The preservation of that secret was to atone -for my sins, and not confession. Never to mortal was my -knowledge to be breathed. This was the penitence laid -upon me. And so, despairing, I left her. What was the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span>immortal soul of a poor peasant in comparison to the -honor of the family of Garcia?</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘It was well! Why should a servant gainsay his -mistress? So months went on, Señor. Within and -around the hacienda people were dying. They told me -the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">niña</span></i> Herlinda herself was pining,—some whispered -for the American; but a terror seized even on the boldest, -and the American’s name ceased to be heard, and that of -the young Gonzales took its place. The gossips were content -to blame any name unchid for her wan cheeks and -sunken eyes. But I knew that no man had scorned her -love, and that no living man had aught to answer for had -she loved too well. I had not seen her for weeks and -weeks; but one night a creature so pale and wan I -thought it her ghost, accosted me. Strange, strange the -mission that brought her. It was to entreat my protection—that -of the worthless Pedro—for the child which in -secret and in banishment she was about to bring into the -world.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Well! well! I promised all she asked. I should -have done so even had I thought it possible the dire need -she pleaded would be hers. Oh! I had heard strange -and fearful tales of deeds that have been wrought within -the walls of these great and solitary haciendas; but that -Doña Isabel would stoop to crime, and that I should find it -in my power to save a child which she would strive to -sacrifice, I could not believe. Trouble, I thought, had -made Herlinda mad. But she was mad only with the -frenzy of a prophetess.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘With terrible forebodings I saw her taken from her -home. Day and night I thought of her, and my heart was -like ice; but one day, when worn out with watching and -expectancy I sat at the gate, I fell into a doze, and in my -dream heard the voice of Herlinda calling me. It changed -to that of a man. I woke with a start, and a child was -dropped into my hands. Strange and wonderful must -have been the means by which the hunted and distracted -Herlinda had evaded the mother she feared! Who had -been her friends, Señor? The wonder is with me still. -I saw the face of her messenger but for a moment, -yet it has haunted me. Yes, more than once, when I -have thought of new faces that have passed before -<span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>me, I have said, “Such an one was like the man; why -was I blind to it when he stood before me?”’ Pedro -started up, and clasped my arm so powerfully that I -shrank. ‘Señor!’ he cried, ‘As God lives, I saw such -a face to-day! It was that of the man who rode behind -him they call Ramirez.’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Reyes!’ I ejaculated. ‘Reyes!’ What strange -sport made the messenger of Herlinda the follower of -Ramirez? I—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley paused, for Chinita echoed the name with an -intense surprise far greater than his own. She clasped -her hands to her temples, as though fearing the mad bewilderment -of her thoughts was crazing her. “Tell me -no more,” she said faintly. “Do I not know the unnatural -wretch that I have been? But what of Pedro? Why -did you leave him? How dared you leave him? You!” -She turned upon Pepé, accusingly. “He lives, you say, -and yet you are here!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No less would content him,” interposed Ashley, while -Pepé muttered an inarticulate remonstrance. “It was -Pepé you had sent upon your errand; it was Pepé whom -Pedro would dispatch with his answer.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ay!” said Pepé, grumblingly, “and with you I must -remain. I am sworn to that, whether you like it or -loathe it.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I,” said Ashley, “have ridden thus far out of the -direct path I would have taken to El Toro, to warn you -of the character of the man you have made your hero; -to tell you I believe you to be the daughter of my cousin, -to offer you the home and the fortune that would have -been his.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He spoke unhesitatingly, yet a strange sense of bewilderment -swept over him. He was conscious that it -was no fear of material loss that troubled him, though not -for an instant did he dream of using the advantage of the -law against this defenceless girl; but that this strange impulsive -creature should be of the same blood as he, as the -calm and gentle Mary; that she should come into their life -with her wayward passions, her erratic genius, her weird -beauty,—was a thing incomprehensible, almost terrible. -Yet the blood leaped stronger in the young man’s veins -as he beheld her; and his heart bounded as he said, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>“Yes, I must go; for I have certain news that the enemy -is massing his forces for attack. I go to warn Gonzales; -but I shall return to claim you as my cousin’s child. -Meanwhile, be silent—patient. Pedro prays you keep -the secret of your birth. He believes as firmly as ever -that only thus can you be safe. And for that mother’s -sake I pray you be silent. Right may be won for you, -and her good name be still left untainted. There may be -a mystery still to be unravelled.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will be silent; I will wait,” Chinita said in a cold, -hollow voice.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley noticed that she had no word of sympathy for -him, no recognition of the endeavors that had led to her -discovery. Apparently the thought that he was aught to -her was as far from her mind as any grief had ever been -for that other American,—as far indeed as such was at that -moment. For, strangely, Ashley seemed to penetrate the -inmost shrine of her thought; and still the figures around -which centred her love, her hopes, her passions were -only those of Pedro, of Ramirez, of Doña Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will be silent,” she repeated. “Ah, it will be easier -now! Yes, hasten to El Toro, bring Gonzales; he will -be a surer, safer leader than Ruiz—though I will turn him -again to my will. Yes, yes, more than once I have thought -Ruiz wavering, uncertain! Now at a word I will make -him what before he has only affected to others to be,—the -undying enemy of Ramirez!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley was silent. He would have had this girl passive, -supine, womanly; yet from the very necessity of warning -her, he had been forced to arouse in her this vindictive -wrath against the man who had done her unwittingly such -foul wrong.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Listen!” he said hurriedly, after a pause. “It is -Pedro who implores, who commands, that until he gives -you leave, nothing of what I have told you shall pass your -lips. I might have had your promise before I would speak. -See, the stars are shining that must see me on my way. -Give me two promises before we part,—one that you will -be silent; the other that Pepé shall be continually within -your sight or call. For this he was sent from the side of -the suffering, perhaps dying, Pedro. He would have you -safe,—safe from Ramirez.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>“And I will kill you before you shall fall into his -hands,” interposed Pepé, grimly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita smiled with cynical bitterness, and said indifferently, -“I promise. Yes, I promise. Ah, yes, Señor, -you will see I have been silent when you come again. -And now I will go back. What if the Señora Doña Isabel -should wake and find me missing?—the child she loves -so well!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She waved her hand, and stepped backward through the -darkness. At the door of the chamber where Doña Isabel -lay, she seemed to vanish into air, so swift, so silent, was -her going.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley gazed after her long in silence,—so long that -another spectral figure stole through the doorway, and -with noiseless steps reached Pepé’s side. “The Señora -slept like the dead,” Juana whispered; “but not for a -thousand hard dollars would I lie in Chinita’s place again, -while she forgets time in lover’s chat. I wonder at thee, -Pepé! thou hast not a man’s heart in thee. I thought -thou lovedst her thyself!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Fool!” said Pepé, sulkily, and turned away; while -Juana, ill paid for her devotion, sought a corner of the -corridor in which to sink to sleep.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Strange, incomprehensible creature!” muttered Ashley -at length. “What emotions, what thoughts are hers? -At least it is certain that the fascination of Ramirez is -dissolved,—horror, hatred perhaps, has taken its place. -She is safe. And now Pepé, my horse; I must take the -road. And if it be true that Juarez is at hand, even -Ramirez himself may tremble; the combined forces of -Gonzales and Ruiz will hold him at bay, and keep an -open road for the intrepid Liberal to the capital.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was scarcely two hours past midnight, though his -interview with Chinita had lasted long, when Ashley -cautiously emerged from the inn, and took his way toward -the open country. The troops lay at the east end of the -town; but giving the watchword to the few sentinels who -challenged him, he avoided them, and soon found himself -in the vast solitude of the night. He had taken the precaution -to procure a fresh horse, and for some leagues the -way lay across a level country, so he made such speed as -brought him by dawn within sight of the mountain upon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span>which Pedro lay,—but on a side many miles nearer El -Toro, his destination, where Gonzales, with his insufficient -garrison, was anxiously awaiting the reinforcements without -which he could neither dare to advance, nor hope to -maintain his position in case of attack.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As Ashley glanced toward the ragged and solitary cliffs -where like a hunted animal the man was lying, he remembered -that after the first horror was passed, Chinita had -spoken no more of her foster-father, had asked no question -as to what hands were set to tend him, nor in what -direction lay the cave in which he was sheltered. Such -queries would have been useless,—she could do nothing; -yet it would have been but natural that she should -have made them. Even if the gate-keeper’s care of her -neglected infancy was forgotten, or accepted as a matter -of course, and though her mind was absorbed by thoughts -of her own history and her wrongs, yet his very connection -with them should have made him an object of interest -if not of tenderness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Heavens!” murmured Ashley, “can it be that this -strange creature, as different in her instincts as in her appearance -and education, is of the same blood as Mary? -A bewildering charge shall I take to her, if Doña Isabel -still, to save the reputation of her daughter, lays no claim -to this beautiful girl, and denies her such scanty justice as -she can give! For a daughter of an Ashley must not be -left to the sport of chance,—neither to be sold to the first -who bargains for her beauty; nor, worse still, to be consigned -to a convent, as the unhappy Herlinda was.” He -reasoned calmly, yet his heart and temples beat hotly. -“Let me think. If this Gonzales but proves a man of -honor, I may gain some aid from him; he, at least, may -know in which convent this woman—whom he also loved—is -immured. By the way, he is a fanatic upon this new -scheme of Juarez, of secularizing the property of the clergy. -Ah, in event of the success of the Liberal arms, that might -work countless and unimagined changes!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The thought was full of suggestion. Ashley gave rein -to his horse, and dashed forward with fresh vigor. Afterward -he scarce remembered how the day passed; but its -close found him, spent and weary, alighting at the door of -the inn of El Toro.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>Almost at the same moment, far on the other side -of the mountain, two travellers, so wrapped in long striped -blankets and covered by wide sombreros as to be almost -indistinguishable, the man from the woman, drew rein -before a mass of cactus and gray rock; and while the -one gazed furtively around, vainly seeking a sign of human -contiguity, the other dismounted, and bending to a mere -crevice in the rock gave a long, low whistle, then turned -to help his companion, saying, “That will bring Stefano. -Chinita, thou wilt see that, though a coward, he is no fool, -and has cared well for thy foster-father. Said I not so? -Ah, here he comes.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita was cramped by long riding, and was fain to -cling to her guide. She looked around her with a shudder. -The wild solitude of the place was terrible. She feared to -move, lest she should find herself face to face with death. -Her head swam, the world turned black before her eyes; -and in the midst a strange hand touched her own. A low -laugh sounded on her ear,—it was that of a woman.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Santa Maria!” she heard Pepé exclaim. “It is the -Virgin of Guadalupe herself. It is then that we are too -late to serve the poor <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">padron</span></i>!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The low laugh sounded again,—there was in it more of -madness than sanctity. Chinita, with superstitious fear -and desperation, sought to wrench her hand from the hot -clasp in which it was held. The close air of the entrance -of the cave closed round her, as with persistent force she -was drawn within; and with a scream of terror she fell -fainting, overcome by the excitement and exertion of -many hours, and by the unexpected apparition which -had greeted her.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXVII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>The illness which attacked Doña Feliz upon the morning -that Ashley Ward set forth from Tres Hermanos, was -the first indication of an epidemic similar in character -and force to that which had devastated the hacienda fifteen -years before. Reminiscences of the time of the great -sickness became the absorbing topic of conversation, until -the care of the dying and the burial of the dead silenced -all voices, and turned all thoughts to the overwhelming -cares of the present.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At first with unspeakable remorse Chata attributed the -illness of Doña Feliz to her unwonted exertion in walking -to the reduction-works through the fierce sunshine, -and to her grief and shame in discovering her, whom -she believed to be her granddaughter, there in conversation -with a stranger,—from whom a modest maiden -would have shrunk in decent coyness, if not in fear. -Chata’s heart burned with grief and remorse. She longed -to throw herself upon her knees, and pour out her soul before -the woman she held in such love and reverence that -the thought of her distrust and displeasure was like a -mortal wound in her heart. Yet she was forced to be -silent, before the unconsciousness and delirium which for -days and weeks overpowered the body and mind of the -strong, though no longer youthful, woman.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was some consolation to the distressed maiden that -she was called upon, almost alone, to bear the labor and -responsibility of the care of Doña Feliz. Don Rafael -was almost helpless before his mother’s peril; the servants -were terrified and incompetent. Soon Chata, in the incessant -toil, almost ceased to think of the trials and perplexities -of her own life, save to cry bitterly to herself that -had she never known before that Doña Rita was not her -own mother, the difference in her bearing at that crisis -toward Rosario and herself would have betrayed the truth.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>“Even Don Rafael,” she thought, “though he loves -me, is content that I, rather than his own child, should -risk the danger of the infected atmosphere.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But in truth the alarmed and harassed man was capable -of but little reflection or discrimination as to the actions -of those about him. He gave no heed to the selfishness -of his wife or Rosario, while he found Chata ever at Doña -Feliz’s side, tireless, calm, unmurmuring, ministering with -a rare ability, which even natural tact and long experience -seldom combine to produce in such perfection, to the -needs and comfort of the ever delirious patient. He grew -speedily to have a perfect trust and faith in this ministering -child; and though once, when for a little while his -mother was silent, and the servants had fallen asleep, he -opened his lips to question her, there was something in -the imploring yet innocent gaze of those clear gray eyes -before which he shrank, as Ashley Ward had done, powerless -to utter a word that should indicate distrust.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Perhaps my mother knows,—yes, doubtless she -knew,” he said to himself, with a faint attempt to justify -his silence. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> a man must have a black heart -himself who could doubt the whiteness of so pure a soul!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Almost hourly his perturbation of mind was increased -by the report of some fresh name upon the list of the sick. -With a faith as profound as their own in the decoctions of -herbs and roots used by the village quacks, and a superstitious -respect for the alleged virtues of blessed relics -and candles, and even for amulets of less sacred renown, -he went from hut to hut, endeavoring to propitiate the favor -of Heaven by charitable deeds,—thus perhaps gaining for -himself a more personal affection than the mere clannish -regard which he in a measure shared with the actual proprietors -of the vast estate, but which was not strong -enough to insure him against the wit or malice of the -dependent yet utterly indifferent and irresponsible host he -attempted to govern. A doctor had been sent for, and -also a priest; but neither appeared,—the priest perhaps -because the last one, who had but lately left there, had -given accounts of Doña Isabel’s proceedings little likely -to be acceptable to the Church. This added to the -perplexities of Don Rafael.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In the midst of them he was one day accosted by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>Tomas, the husband of Florencia, who in tones of genuine -distress, which for the time gave pathos to his usual -drunken whine, bewailed the sickness of his wife, and related -how, spurning his care, she called vainly upon her -Uncle Pedro (not a day’s luck had befallen them since he -had left them), and upon the Señorita Chinita (praying his -grace’s pardon for mentioning one whom the Señora Doña -Isabel herself had chosen to be a lady), to come and give -her a cup of cold water,—as if he, Tomas, himself had -not spilled over her a jar of honeyed <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pulque</span></i> in the vain -effort to pour a draught down her parched throat. It was -plain to see that the woman was doomed, and that it was -for her the corpse-candles had been lighted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The corpse-candles!” echoed Don Rafael,—for he -well knew the popular superstition at Tres Hermanos, that -when the burial lights were to burn in the great house, their -spectral counterfeits were first seen in the ancient dwelling -where the spirits of the early possessors of the hacienda -still guarded treasures, which awaited some daring -and fortunate claimant in a descendant who should combine -their faith with a tenacity of purpose and an untiring -energy worthy the riches that had eluded their own weak -and inconstant efforts. Had indeed the conclave of shades -gathered to welcome another unsuccessful toiler among -them? Don Rafael shuddered and crossed himself, and -wondered that there was no news of Doña Isabel. He -gave Tomas a silver piece, and told him that it was not for -Florencia, or even for his own mother, that the corpse-lights -of the Garcias would burn blue, and sent him away -comforted.</p> - -<p class='c001'>An hour later, through the medium of the fiery liquors -distilled from the agave, Tomas had so far strengthened -his courage that he forgot the corpse-lights altogether, -until he saw them again at midnight glimmering -in the distance, not only behind the hacienda walls, but -fitfully in the darkness of the middle distance. He crossed -himself, as he fancied he caught at intervals glimpses of -spectral bearers. His comrade on the watch jested at the -fears that he opined transformed the soft brilliancy of the -large and brilliant firefly into the light of ghostly candles; -and Tomas was content to yield to the soporific charm of -the mescal, rather than contest the matter with his drowsy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>comrade,—who, with a regularity which custom made invariable, -at certain intervals awoke and emitted the shrill -whistle that proclaimed that the sleepers of Tres Hermanos -were safe beneath his vigilant care.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Just at dawn the man straightened himself suddenly -before the rampart against which he had been leaning, gazed -over the landscape with keen apprehension, and uttered a -faint cry of consternation. The sandy line between the -hacienda gates and the village had become a living one. -Whence had the figures stolen? There they stood motionless, -horse and man. The watchman stooped and shook -his unconscious comrade. “Mother of Jesus!” he -cried; “your corpse-lights were in the hands of living -men. They are here! they are here! Ah, they are -knocking upon the doors! That fool Felipe is turning -the key in the lock! Up! Up!” At the same moment -his whistle sounded shrilly, and the crack of his rifle -upon the air woke the slumbering tenants of the assaulted -house.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Too late! the unwary gatekeeper was surprised; the -heavy doors were forced open, the courts in an instant -were full of armed men, and Don Rafael, half dressed, -staggering from his scarce tried slumbers, was seized by a -half-dozen soldiers, while a voice he well knew, though it -came as if from the dead, and knew to be that of a man -who was as inflexible in act as unscrupulous in purpose, -exclaimed,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“How now, Don Rafael? Doña Isabel Garcia has at -last showed her true colors. It is for Gonzales and the -Liberals the men and treasure of Tres Hermanos have -been accumulating! What, nothing for her Mother the -Church? Ah, it is the old story,—nothing for those of -her own household!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The unwelcome intruder glanced around him with the -air of one familiar with, yet inimical to, his surroundings; -he laughed as he dropped the point of his sword upon the -brick pave, and his spurred heel rang upon the stone step. -Yet a close observer might have noticed a false note in the -light and scornful tone, as though some poignant memory -troubled his present purpose; and it was with a half evasive -though still a threatening glance, that he lifted his -eyes to encounter those of the administrador, who stood -<span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span>a disordered and helpless but resolute prisoner upon the -steps above him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At the sound of voices and the tramp of men, Chata -had run hastily out from the room of Doña Feliz, whose -illness had approached a crisis. The press of men prevented -her from reaching Don Rafael, who imperatively -signed to her to retreat. Still she would have dared much -to reach him; but catching a glimpse of the triumphant -countenance of the man at the foot of the stairs, she drew -back, covered her face with her hands and fled precipitately,—in -fear for herself perhaps, but more with an instinctive -feeling that her presence endangered rather than -helped her foster-father. That the General José Ramirez -had entered Tres Hermanos in a mood to seize any pretext -to assume toward it and its people the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</span></i> of an -injured and desperate man, was to be seen at a glance. -The very soldiers had already divined as much, and were -leading their horses and mules to drink at the fountain, -and invading the arbor and lower rooms; the sound of -their jests and laughter was mingling with the crash of the -great flower-pots, carelessly pushed from their stands, and -the sharp crack of jars of the quaint black and gilded -ware of Guadalajara, which ornamented the corridors.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata re-entered the room of the sick woman, with pallid -face and lips, and eyes expanding with a terror such as -the mere sight of the imminent destruction of material -things alone could not have occasioned. Terrible had -been the tales she had heard of houses laid waste and -property destroyed; yet even when the horrors seemed -about to be repeated around her, she felt that she could -have endured them bravely as among the chances of war -had not this invasion brought to her an intensely dreaded -and peculiar danger. She passed the group of alarmed -and excited women who gathered at the bedside, uttering -exclamations of terror, and kneeling at the head of the -couch she clasped in her own the hand of the unconscious -Doña Feliz.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Grandmother, my dearest!” she <a id='corr365.38'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='murmered'>murmured</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_365.38'><ins class='correction' title='murmered'>murmured</ins></a></span> in a low -voice, yet full of agony; “surely he will not tear me -from thee! Oh, rather may I die with thee!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh, by the saints,” cried the voice of Doña Rita in -her ear, “for my child’s sake, Chata, rise and fly to him! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span>It is thou only who canst save us. What did I tell thee in -El Toro? Doña Isabel has ruined us! but for her foolhardiness -in sending aid to Gonzales all might have been -well; but that has brought the wrath of Ramirez upon -Rafael!” She turned toward her prostrate mother-in-law, -with something very like fury, clenching her hand and -crying, “Ah! ah! your clever deception will not seem so -happy a one when you wake to find it has killed your son! -That is what you deserve! You deceived even me. Do -you think had I known, I would for all the favor promised -me have played mother to the brat of Leon Vallé?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The women ceased their cries to listen to this frantic -outburst, which though but Greek to them, had a sound -of mystery, which for the moment deadened their ears to -the increasing tumult without. “Leon Vallé!” said one -in an awe-struck voice,—“that was the Señora’s wicked -brother.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Leon Vallé!” echoed Chata, a new light dawning -upon her. “Maria Sanctissima, can it be?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What more natural?” cried Doña Rita, testily. “Was -he ever weary of extorting some proof of Doña Isabel’s -devotion? But <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Dios mio</span></i>, there was to be an end of her -infatuation! Had he not killed her child? What better -chance for vengeance was she to find than to conceal, -destroy, every trace of his, when with devilish mockery -he thrust it upon her? But then he might have known -it was like thrusting the lamb into the jaws of the wolf. -On my faith, girl, it maddens me to see you standing -there motionless, when it is as if the legions of Satanas -himself were loose. Go! go! I say, to soothe him. Entreat -him to restrain his troops. The house will be sacked. -Who knows what horrors may follow!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will not go to him,” said Chata, slowly, a red spot -burning upon either cheek, her eyes dark with horror. -“If he is indeed the man you say, will he not defend the -home of his sister? If I am his child, will he not claim -me? If he does, I must submit; but go to him—No! -To save the hacienda—what has Doña Isabel done for -me? To save my life—no!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXVIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>In the few moments during which this scene had passed, -the administrador at a sign from the General had been -half forced—though he made no attempt at resistance—to -the lower corridor. Thence he followed his captor to a -dining-room, where a servant with terrified alacrity was -already bringing in cups of chocolate for the breakfast, -while a woman with a tray of small loaves of sweet-bread -in her hands dropped it incontinently at sight of the dreaded -Ramirez. He laughed, throwing himself into a chair, and -looking around him with the furtive glance with which -men involuntarily regard places or persons connected with -memories distasteful or horrifying. There was an image -of the Virgin of Guadalupe at one end of the apartment, -with a small lamp burning before it. He crossed himself, -and muttered an <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Ave</span></i> as he looked at it; then pointed -to a second chair and the cups of chocolate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is early, Don Rafael,” he said lightly, “but I have -a soldier’s appetite, which the fresh air has sharpened,—and -you know the saying, that a stomach at rest makes an -active brain; so accompany me, I entreat, in breaking the -morning fast, and then let us to business.” And with a -show of indifference, which imposed far better upon his followers, -who made an interested throng around the door, -than upon Don Rafael, he tasted the chocolate he had drawn -to his side.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The administrador remained standing, though the two -soldiers, who had each held an arm, released their grasp -and stepped back. Disconcerted by the thought that in -his dishabille he could scarcely present a dignified figure, -Don Rafael still maintained his composure sufficiently to -refuse the proffered refreshment with the air of a man who -questions the right of another to play the part of host,—assuming, -in fact, toward the intruder rather the attitude -of personal than of political hostility.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>Ramirez divined this, and his face darkened. “You -know me, Don Rafael,” he said in a low tone, “and that -I am a man to take no denials.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes,” answered the administrador, shortly, “I know -you. The saints must have blinded me that I was so -easily deceived upon your last visit; but you had always -the power to mask your face at will.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Bah! every man has a dozen countenances at his command, -if he but know how to summon them,” replied Ramirez, -carelessly, “and a touch of art to fix their coloring, -and twist the eyebrows or moustache. Why, even your -mother was deceived! Where is she now? Ah! that -woman was like Isabel herself; I swear she would have -killed me, even when she seemed to love me most. It is -the way of women, like serpents, to twine and sting at the -same moment.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“My mother is dying,” said Don Rafael, lifting his -eyes for a moment upon the face of the image of Mary. -“Yet living or dying, it is not for a man to hear another -speak lightly of his mother. But this is nothing to the -purpose.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Nothing,” replied the other, accepting the rebuke; -“and I have no time to lose.” He seemed to forget the -chocolate, pushing the cup from him, and turning as if to -rise from the chair. “Look you, Rafael, what money did -Isabel leave with you? Not half her resources went in -that mad freak of raising a troop for Gonzales.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Perhaps Don Rafael had expected the question, for his -countenance remained imperturbable. “There are horses -and cattle and corn and men, still,” he answered. “The -administrador of Tres Hermanos can do nothing to defend -them; but the money,—by Heaven and the Holy -Virgin, its hiding-place is known only to him, and he will -die before you shall have another dollar to add to those -which have cost so much blood and so many tears!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez’s eyes flashed; yet the look of astonishment -which he threw upon the small, half-clothed man was as -full of admiration as though he had been a king clad in -royal robes. But even a king would not have thwarted -Ramirez with impunity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You know me,” he reiterated in the same intonation -with which he had before spoken the words, allowing a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>long, dark, intimidating gaze to rest upon the face of Don -Rafael.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, I know you,” was the answer as before. “Yes, -I know you; and it is for that reason I have said that -never a dollar belonging to the woman you have so foully -wronged shall pass into your hands. Thank Heaven that -she is not here to be tempted! Thank God that while the -identity of Ramirez with the bane and curse of the house -of Garcia has been shaping itself in my mind, no hint of -the truth has been in hers!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I do not believe it!” cried Ramirez, violently. “She -hates me! for the sake of that puling boy and her dotard -husband she hates me still! ‘The bane of the house of -Garcia,’ said you. Why, what man among them has a -name beyond his own door-stone but me? And the -women! Ah, ah! What saint would have saved the -fame of the women of the house of Garcia had it not -been for me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael glanced around him warningly,—the room -was full of strange faces, beginning to light with wondering -curiosity at this strange conversation, so different in -substance from that usual between the guerilla and his -victims. This was no place in which to talk of women; -yet Don Rafael himself desired to avoid a private interview -with this man, while Ramirez on his part assumed an -ostentatious air of having nothing to conceal,—nothing -that he might be ashamed his followers should learn. He -knew, in fact, that at that crisis, surrounded as he was by -the most unscrupulous and desperate characters, the prestige -of his mad career might be advantageously heightened -rather than diminished, if he would keep his ascendency. -Don Rafael read his thought, and lest in very hardihood -his opponent should be led to accusations or revelations it -would be impossible for him to leave unanswered, he began -one of those long and desultory conversations that, while -apparently frank and unstudied, are triumphs in the art of -avoiding or concealing the real subject at issue.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez, well as he knew the tricks of the genuine -ranchero, whether of the higher or lower grade, was himself -for a time deceived,—for, with far less than his -usual astuteness, he allowed himself to lapse into occasional -denunciations, and to make demands of the administrador -<span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>that increased the curiosity and interest of his -listeners. These did not in any degree shake the constancy -of Don Rafael, who, with the thought that the crisis -of his life was approaching, crossed his arms upon his -breast and fortified his courage with the remembrance of -the vows by which he had pledged himself, and the less -heroic satisfaction that he promised himself then in thwarting -the plans of a man whose will had been as triumphant -as it was insatiable.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile, the tumult in the house increased. A wild -rumor had spread that the General José Ramirez was by -right the master of the place and all it contained. Some -said he was the lover, others the brother, of Doña Isabel. -At last, even the name by which he had been known there -began to be shouted, though the sound of it was less -popular than that by which he had won his way later to -fame. Still, it gave a certain authority for license where -there had been before a show of restraint; and a speedy -assault was made upon the store-rooms and granaries, and -even upon the inner chambers and courts, which contained -nothing but furniture and ornaments,—useless to -soldiers on the march, or even as booty for their wives -and followers.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez listened to the tumult without attempting to interfere. -Evidently his object was to break the resolution -of Sanchez by an exhibition of the destructive and unscrupulous -character of his followers. But Don Rafael -never winced except once, when the cry of a woman pierced -the apartment.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez heard it also. “Ah! it came from the kitchens, -from some scullery-maid,” he commented after a moment. -“Now, Don Rafael, you see and hear for yourself what -a crew of devils I have with me,—just the riff-raff of -the mountains, whom that cursed Pedro failed to wile -away from me. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> never was a surprise greater. -It would not have happened but that like a fool I lingered -near El Toro waiting for a chance to pounce upon Gonzales. -Never let a private vengeance sway the judgment,” -he added sententiously. “A thousand devils! It seems -as if the hacienda were tumbling about our ears! Yet at -a word I can stop it. Where is the money?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“If the din never ceases till I reveal that,” answered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>Don Rafael, doggedly, “you will never have your revenge -on Gonzales; for what I have sworn I have sworn. The -flocks and herds I can’t defend; and what are a few hundred -beeves or horses? But the money; no, by God! if -Doña Isabel herself should command it, I would not suffer -that another coin should touch your bloody hand!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez started up with an oath. Involuntarily he -glanced at his hand. It would not have surprised him to -have seen it literally red,—and, strangely enough, the -blood gushing from the fatal wound he had dealt the American, -just from the arms of Herlinda, rather than that of -his nephew or Don Gregorio, was that which presented -itself to his mind. He walked the room in a new and undefinable -excitement. The sight of Don Rafael, to whom -the destruction of the property that was precious as his life -seemed as nothing to the pleasure of baffling the man he -abhorred of the money he believed absolutely necessary to -his success in leading troops to encounter the well-reinforced -and well-equipped Gonzales, revealed to him the -hatred and horror in which he was held. Doubtless that of -the servant was but a mere reflection of that of Doña Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Well, let them hate him with reason; let the wild mountaineers -take their own sport unchecked. He heard one of -the clerks, flying rather than running through the corridor, -exclaim that Don Rafael must come, or there would be a -famine in the place before the next harvest; that the great -storehouses of maize had been forced open, and the contents -scattered throughout the village for horses and men -to tread under their feet; and that the very oxen and -sheep were revelling in the abundance, liable to destroy -themselves by very excess, even if the soldiers should fail -to drive them before them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez and the administrador glanced at each other. -They had not spoken for many minutes, each feeling the -other implacable, yet each perhaps believing that the wanton -destruction would appeal to the other’s weaker or better -nature. Ramirez grew crimson, almost black, with inward -rage,—rage as great with those who were wreaking destruction -on his sister’s house, as with this insignificant -yet determined man who withstood it. Don Rafael was -white as death, his lips blue, his eyes strained; again the -cry of a woman sounded on the air! It came from above. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>He started toward the door. A dozen hands seized him. -Ramirez turned upon him with his drawn sword.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Where is my daughter?” he demanded in a voice of -fury. “I will find a way to force the gold from you, but -first my daughter,—where is she?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Your daughter?” echoed Don Rafael in a tone of such -absolute amazement that even Ramirez was for a second -distracted from his rage.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, my daughter! She whom you have aided Isabel -to hide from me all these years. Faith, it was a pretty -trick,—an eye for an eye, with a vengeance. But after -all it was a petty plot, and soon fathomed. You were -less jealous of flesh and blood than of this cursed gold, -and gave me the first inkling of her whereabouts yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I?” exclaimed the administrador; “I? What know -I of a child of yours?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, that is what you must satisfy me of. Where is -she,—the Chata, whom you nodded and hinted about so -mysteriously in your cups so many years ago?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael—if it were possible—turned a shade whiter -than before; his form seemed to shrink, his heart sank -with guilty shame and absolute terror. How well he remembered -those few words, which, though so indirect and -apparently unimportant, he had thought of with remorse a -thousand times. And to what a terrible, though utterly -unforeseen, conclusion they had led this man! He lifted -his hands above his head.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“By the Blessed Mother, I swear,” he said, “that I -know not what you mean! I know nothing of a child of -yours!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez looked at him contemptuously. “You will -tell me next that the child your wife denies is yours,” he -said.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In effect it had been upon the lips of Don Rafael to -claim Chata as his daughter, as he had done a thousand -times before. Was she not his before all the world? Had -she not been from the very moment the eyes of his wife -had rested upon her? But she had betrayed the confidence -to which she had been but partially admitted,—Rita! -He hesitated, and Ramirez seized the advantage.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You dare not!” he exclaimed. “Your wife has confessed -all: it will never do to trust a woman with a secret -<span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>in company of a man who cares to learn it, though very -perversity might keep her silent with a world of women.” -The sight of the discomfiture of Don Rafael had restored -to Ramirez some portion of good nature. “The screeching -has ceased,” he added. “Yet I am a fond father. I -would assure myself of my child’s safety. Where is the -girl? I must and will see her, if but to tell her why I -played her false last week. Where is my daughter?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael’s face, which throughout this interview had -retained its pallor, crimsoned with excess of agitation. -The mystery of Chata’s visit to the hacienda was revealed. -Had she met this man? Did she know—did she believe? -He remembered her changed aspect, her silence, her tears. -Ramirez stood watching him with impatience, yet triumph. -The crimson flush convicted the administrador. Don -Rafael strove in vain to steady the glance of his suffused -and burning eyes, to still the throbbing of his temples, -while he sought to command the most impressive and -convincing words in which to answer and forever silence -this mad assumption. But none presented themselves. -The group around listened breathlessly, more excited -than Ramirez himself. They looked silently from face -to face of the two men who were engaged in this singular -dispute. Inside the room one might have heard a feather -float through the air, so deep was the silence; and at last, -in despair of finding imposing words, the administrador -uttered the simple denial, “Chata is not your child.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Most of the men drew back for the moment convinced. -Not so Ramirez. “It is false!” he cried. “I have your -own maudlin hint, and your wife’s positive confession, that -the girl is neither hers nor yours.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael grew pale again. There was that in his -face which would have augured ill to Doña Rita had she -seen it; but he said with an effort, “I will not give my -wife the lie. The child is neither mine nor hers!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Then whose—whose but mine?” demanded Ramirez -fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael paused a moment as before. In an instant -he had recalled the circumstances that had attended the -adoption of the child. Rita had been young, placable, -easily pleased with a gift: the fewer confidants the better; -it was ever the duty of a Mexican wife to obey unquestioningly,—she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>had been obedient then; it had not -been necessary that she should know more than it had -been wise to tell. Don Rafael drew a deep breath of -relief. Ramirez and the group around him watched him -narrowly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Declare then!” queried Ramirez at last, “whose -daughter is she if not mine?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will not say,” answered Don Rafael; “but I do -swear she is not yours. Stay,” he added, struck with -an idea. “What reason have you for thinking she is -yours?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Reason!” echoed Ramirez scornfully; “because fifteen -years ago, more or less,—perhaps you have reason -here to remember well that year,—I sent my child here, -to Doña Isabel: it was a whim of mine that she should -have tender nurture and decent training. I was a fool to -trust a woman’s love. Of course Isabel remembered her -own bantling, though I had even some foolish thought -that the little one I sent might console her,—most women -have hearts for baby wants and fancies that sicken men. -Of course for her it was a chance for revenge too good to -be lost. I have been in two minds ever since I knew how -she scorned my trust whether to be angry or pleased with -you for aiding her purpose. But let it pass; yield the -child and the money quietly and”—he looked over his -shoulder with an impatient frown—“that infernal tumult -and destruction shall cease. If not—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I will yield neither the girl nor the money;” replied -Don Rafael. “They are neither of them mine nor yours; -but I have possession of both, and will keep them.—Surely -Rita has both girls in the secret recess, as we have -always planned in such a case as this,” he thought, with a -qualm at the remembrance of his wife’s treason, as revealed -by Ramirez. “Surely at such a time she will protect a -young damsel, even though she be not her own child.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez looked at him with a lowering brow, repeating -again, “If not mine, whose child is she? By Heaven, I -know she is mine! There could not be on all the earth a -creature in whom Doña Isabel or Feliz or yourself could -have so deep an interest as to trouble yourself for life -with his child. It is incredible, impossible. Unless she -is—” He paused on the name, looked round him, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>clinched his hands, advanced to Don Rafael, and gazed -searchingly into his face.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Don Rafael did not flinch. Ramirez burst into a laugh. -“I would have killed you had you dared even to have -looked askance,” he said. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> the women of -the Garcias may be fools or devils,—they have shown the -spirit of both; but if a man should ever kill another -because of one of them, it would be for his daring, not -in revenge of his triumph.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Did these words indicate a tardy repentance, a conviction -that Herlinda had been indiscreet but innocent? Don -Rafael had no time to discuss the question with himself; -but he had such new insight into the mind of Ramirez that -he was warned from giving any fresh cause of offence. -Had he had no previous reasons, it would have been a sufficient -one for him to keep inviolate the secret which he had -sworn to preserve to his life’s end. In his present humor, -the man with whom he had to deal would in his baffled and -vengeful rage have spared neither the name nor fame of -even his own mother, had occasion offered to tempt him to -blacken it. Don Rafael believed the women of his household -as well as the money safe in the hiding places he had -constructed for them,—the first known to Doña Feliz and -Doña Rita, the second to himself alone. To any fate that -might befall himself he looked with stoical courage if not -indifference. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his -arms defiantly and awaited events.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_376'>376</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XXXIX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>At high noon a terrible and heartrending wail of anguish -sounded through the house, penetrating with dismal insistence -through the clamor of the soldiery and the thousand -indescribable noises of the animals, which had been hastily -collected; and which added the element of mere brute bewilderment -to the scarcely more reasonably restrained terror -of the people.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez had recognized the obstinate defiance of the -administrador. More than once before he had dealt with -others as tenacious of the interests of those they served. -He had no time to lose in vain persuasions, and had himself -conducted the search throughout the vast building, of -which he believed he knew every nook and corner. But -he had to his amazement and chagrin found neither treasure -nor any member of the family of the administrador -save the apparently dying Doña Feliz. After a fruitless -endeavor to recall her to consciousness, he left her with a -curse, and returning to her son, assaulted him with menaces, -alternated with fair promises,—the one as little -regarded as the other.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Upon one subject only would Don Rafael permit himself -to speak; and to that Ramirez, in his rage, refused to -listen. The suggestion that his daughter, if indeed he -had a reason to seek one there, might prove to be Chinita, -the foster-daughter of Pedro Gomez, he received with utter -contempt. He remembered her well, he said; an imp as -black as Pedro himself,—black as he must be now, scorching -in Hades. That little demon was none of his, while -Chata had the very face of his mother,—the face of an -angel. Ah! ah! that was indeed a daring jest, that Isabel -should strive to palm off upon him the brat of her doorkeeper! -Once long before, like the witch she was, the -girl had stopped him and thrust into his hand an amulet,—he -drew it from his pocket, and cast it from him. By -<span class='pageno' id='Page_377'>377</span>the way, now Pedro was dead, if Rafael still believed her -worth a thought, he had better see in such a day as this -that she had some other protector. She must be nearly -a woman now!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez fell into greater rage when he learned that Doña -Isabel had taken charge of this despised waif. He swore -that it was in mockery of himself; and Don Rafael soon -perceiving that every word he uttered was construed as an -attempt to deceive, and fearing that at some time it might -bring evil upon the girl to whom, whether she were the -daughter of Ramirez or no, he certainly desired no harm, -the administrador became utterly silent, in his heart commending -the prudence of Rita in following this time with -exactness his instructions, and condoning the treason of -which by the assurances of Ramirez he had been forced -to believe her guilty.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In truth, although at first the alarmed and not too scrupulous -woman had urged Chata to secure the safety of herself -and her child by claiming the protection of Ramirez, as -time passed and he made no movement toward such recognition -she began to distrust the effect it might produce upon -the renowned guerilla. He and his soldiers were there for -plunder and rapine, not paternal sentiment. As the cries -of the women-servants and villagers reached her, the resolution -to seek safety in concealment seized her. Though -still far from wishing to conceal Chata from Ramirez, to -whom the accidental sight of her might recall some sense -of mercy or tenderness, she feared both him and her husband -too greatly to dare leave her to the chance of insult -from the licentious soldiery. But Chata absolutely refused -to leave Doña Feliz, from whose side even the servants -had fled; and it was her scream that had penetrated to -the rooms below, when, by the friendly force of Don -Alonzo, she was immured with Doña Rita and Rosario -in the secret recess, which Don Rafael had constructed -with a vague apprehension of such an emergency.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It chanced that this recess, which was in the immensely -thick outer wall of the great house, was dimly lighted and -ventilated by a loop-hole so small as to be barely visible -from without, but which opened funnel-like toward the inside -of the apartment. Through this loop-hole these three -women, whose voices were quite inaudible to those either -<span class='pageno' id='Page_378'>378</span>within or without the building, heard confusedly the village -cries, and caught uncertain glimpses of the space outside the -hacienda gates. After what seemed hours of incarceration, -during which Rosario had fretted and slept, and -Doña Rita had alternately chided and lamented, while -Chata entreated to be released that she might return to -the side of Doña Feliz, they saw with anxious surprise a -crowd gathering upon the sandy slope; not of the soldiery -alone, but the people of the hacienda,—clerks, workmen, -women who were wringing their hands and uttering -sharp cries of terror and entreaty, which ended in that -deep wail, which seemed to signify some agonizing -catastrophe.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Rita was the first to divine what was happening. -“Maria Purissima!” she cried. “Is it possible Rafael -is as mad as the administrador of Los Chalcos,—that -he has refused some demand? Does he not remember -how Ramirez caused that poor foolish one to be hanged -without mercy! O my husband, my husband! Oh! -has he no thought for me, for his child, that he will sacrifice -his life for Doña Isabel? How will she thank him? -Whoever thinks twice of the foolhardy obstinacy of an -administrador?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata sprang to her feet. “Give me the key!” she -cried. “Let me go! Now if Ramirez is my father, he -shall prove it! Would he deny his daughter the life of her -foster-father? Give me the key!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no!” screamed Doña Rita, “the place is full -of ruffians. Ramirez himself is a tiger! I—” but Chata -had wrenched the key from her numbed and shaking -hands, and thrusting it in the lock had turned the grating -wards.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When she rushed into the corridors they were empty,—there -was a sight to behold elsewhere. On she flew, not -noticing that Doña Rita and Rosario followed, and that -their shrieks rose with hers, as in a minute or less they -reached the outer court, and strove to penetrate the throng -that filled it and extended to the village beyond.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Within the high arch of the doorway, clear against the -deep blue of the mid-day sky, swayed the figure of a man,—of -Rafael Sanchez. Below, sword in hand, stood Ramirez -and two panting laborers who that instant had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_379'>379</span>accomplished his decree. Around them were gathered -scores of armed men, evil-eyed, with the ferocity of -brutes in their faces; and Ramirez stood pre-eminent, -a very demon.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The crowd parted like water before the shrieks of the -three women. In a moment Chata reached the side of -Ramirez, and grasped his sword. “Spare him! spare -him!” she demanded rather than entreated. “If I am -your daughter, cut the rope! Spare him, and do as you -like with me; else I swear I will die with him rather -than be known as your child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The women were on their knees,—not Doña Rita and -Rosario alone, but all those of the village. Sobs and entreaties -filled the air. Ramirez threw a glance of triumphant -admiration upon Chata, and put one arm around -her, while he raised the other, pointing with a nod to -the swaying figure.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A man sprang to cut the rope, and the administrador fell -into the dozen arms stretched out to receive him. Chata -saw with infinite joy that he was not dead. He threw up -his arms, gasped, opened wide-staring eyes. A moment -later, she was hurried away. Half-fainting though she -was, she was glad to escape that embrace from which -she dared not shrink.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, Rafael, you are conquered,—I have the girl! -And now where is the gold?” she heard Ramirez exclaim, -and saw the gesture of defiance with which the -scarce conscious victim answered this demand.</p> - -<p class='c001'>An hour later Chata was riding by the side of the baffled -Ramirez. She knew not whether her foster-father was -living or dead, and dared not ask; but stifling her sobs, -looked back through a mist of tears upon the desolated -hacienda. It was incredible even to her horrified and -longing gaze, the terrible devastation that had been -worked in a few short hours. Seemingly to complete -its ruin, a thunder-cloud, which had been lurking over -the valley, discharged its contents over the devoted -house. Upon the hills the sun shone; Chata was safe -from the fury of the storm. And yet she felt as though -the very wrath of heaven had burst over her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba</span></i>, Chatita! thou wilt make a soldier’s daughter -yet!” Ramirez was exclaiming. “By my faith, I am proud -<span class='pageno' id='Page_380'>380</span>of thee!” In spite of the unattained gold, he pressed on -in rare good humor. His fury, like the storm, was quickly -expended. “And by our Lady of Glory I am glad that -you came in time to save that obstinate fool, Rafael. -He has, after all is said, served me a good turn in aiding -Isabel to put what she meant for a shabby trick upon me. -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> It was clever of her. I should never have discovered -it but for a slip of the tongue on Rafael’s part -which no one else would have noticed, and but for thy -wonderful likeness to my mother,—the angels give her -good rest!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata could not be grateful for this favor of nature; it -seemed to her indeed the bitterest spite that could have -been wreaked upon her. She turned her eyes upon the -face of Ramirez with a questioning glance, which startled -him: those gray eyes, limpid and clear as they were, were -far different from the large, languorous, black ones of his -mother,—yet not unfamiliar. Where had he seen such -before? The inquiry was not worth a special effort of -memory. Enough that the eyes were beautiful. The very -softness and appeal in their expression held a peculiar -charm for this fierce, hard spirit. He had begun a denunciation -of the revenge practised against him by his sister, -but he abruptly paused. What if this young creature -knew nothing of those wild deeds of bygone years? Why -shock her tender and immature mind by the recital of such -episodes as she would view but at their darkest? For the -first time in his life he felt the impossibility of impressing -his hearer with the daring rather than the villany of his -deeds, and rode beside her in silence, furtively watching -her face, which with wonderful control, indicating a latent -strength of character, she suffered to reveal none of the -horror or fear with which he inspired her, but only the -natural grief with which she had been separated from the -home of her childhood.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Indeed, the thought of Doña Feliz was the dominant one -in Chata’s mind, and prevented any serious grief or alarm -as to her own situation. The question of her own safety or -future position troubled her little. It was the fact of her -separation from the beloved and stricken friend, who was -so dependent upon her care, and her absolute horror of -the murderer of the American,—for as such Ramirez -<span class='pageno' id='Page_381'>381</span>ever figured in her thoughts,—which rendered it so difficult -a task for her to retain her self-possession and answer -with calmness the few questions or remarks that were from -time to time addressed to her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata soon perceived that as the day wore on, and she -began to exhibit signs of fatigue from the hurried march -and the heat, her presence caused far more anxiety than -triumph to her captor. “The old folly!” he muttered -from time to time,—“to act without counting the cost. -I doubt whether there is a decent woman among this -drove of camp-followers. If I had but thought to bring -one from the hacienda! In fact, it was a fool’s act to bring -the child at all, with such work before me as I have!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata caught these broken sentences with a wild hope -that he might decree her return to Tres Hermanos. Willingly -would she have risked going alone on foot if necessary. -But the sun set, the shades of evening closed in, -and the hurried march was still pursued, until, when she -was ready to faint with fatigue, the General ordered a -halt, and lifting her from the saddle, placed her upon a -pile of blankets; while a half-dozen men set to work -with practised hands to build a little hut or tent of mesquite -and manzanita boughs to shelter her from the -night air.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As the weary girl sat near the tent fire, endeavoring to -eat the food of which she stood in much need, but for which -she could not force an appetite, she found herself the centre -of a wild horde of perhaps nearly five hundred persons, of -whom a fifth were women and children, who were busy at -the fires preparing the evening meal while the men were -staking horses, or patrolling the circle of the camp, keeping -within bounds the hard-driven and panting cattle and -sheep, whose distressing lowing and bleating at intervals -filled the air. Apparently there was an entire lack of discipline, -the unreasoning enthusiasm of the moment and the -personal magnetism of the renowned leader serving to -hold the unruly elements subservient to the necessities -of the occasion, and obedient to his slightest mandate. -The majority of the troops were of the most wild and -even savage appearance; for, as their leader had said, they -were the riff-raff, the scourings of the mountain villages -and remote farms. Chata was not unaccustomed to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_382'>382</span>the sight of such individuals, but in mass the impression -they made upon her was of concentrated evil. The trace -of gentler feeling that each face or person might have -revealed on scrutiny was lost in the prevailing ferocity of -expression and accoutrement. The clash of arms, the -jingle of spurs, the hoarse voices made her shudder no less -than the sullen faces, the gleaming eyes, and the sinewy -and powerful frames.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Strangely enough, as her eyes followed Ramirez, a sense -of his complete harmony with his surroundings seemed in -the girl’s mind to condone the wild deeds of which he had -figured as the hero. She realized for the first time the -fascination that unlimited power over such elements must -exercise over a mind given to daring, and uncontrolled -by any moral principle. She thought of Chinita, and how -her adventurous spirit would have exulted in such an -adventure as this. As she gazed into the fire the very -face of that fearless, enigmatic young nature seemed to -rise before her, beautiful, passionate, yet with that capacity -of endurance, which in a man might become cruelty, -that capricious changeableness, which one moment dissolved -in tears, and the next shone in a smile. So real -was the vision that Chata started, and found herself gazing -affrightedly into the face of Ramirez, who was regarding -her with the expression of mingled affection, triumph, and -vexation which had not left his countenance since he had -set her upon Doña Rita’s favorite horse at the door of the -hacienda.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I have a notable project in my mind for you,” he -said abruptly. “You know that I am the Governor of -Guanapila.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes,” she said timidly; “but I thought—” she hesitated, -fearing to offend.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, you thought I was beaten and barred out. They -will find I am neither one nor the other. The gate is shut -but not bolted, and it will be hard if I find not a way -to creep in. It is impossible for me to keep you with me -on the march. You must be with some woman.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh, I would rather be with you. Indeed I will give -no trouble! I will be brave!” she exclaimed, instinctively -shrinking from the thought of contact with such -women as she saw around her.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_383'>383</span>He smiled with gratification, his egotistic nature flattered -by the thought that he was gaining her confidence; -but his face darkened as she added with hesitation, “I -had hoped—I thought perhaps you were taking me to my -mother.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is not of your mother I was thinking,” he said -ambiguously, “when I spoke of Guanapila, but of my -niece Carmen de Velasquez. She knows that the General -Ramirez once sent an escort with her mother to Tres -Hermanos, and levied upon her husband for a loan of ten -thousand dollars when he might have had five times as -much,—for the old fellow she has married is rich, and -does honor to the financial acumen of the fair Carmen, -and we will see whether she has a just appreciation of the -favors I am supposed to have rendered her. There, go -to your tent and sleep in peace; in three days you shall -be safe within the house of Velasquez in Guanapila.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>It cannot be said that Chata slept in peace; yet the -prospect was reassuring, and enabled her to bear with -resignation the fatigues and excitements of the following -days, and the loneliness and terrors of the nights. The -General slept before the opening of her tent. Upon the -fourth night he awoke her, and handed her a torn and -shabby reboso and a skirt of coarse red cloth, with instructions -to put them on. She did so with some repugnance, -though the clothing she left was not better; and at -a call stepped out into the starlight. The young Captain -Alva preceded her in silence outside the limits of the -camp, where two horses were in waiting, held by a man -whom at the first startled glance she failed to recognize. -It would have horrified her beyond control had she known -that in his size and air and dress he was the image of the -ranchero who had entered Tres Hermanos on the night of -the murder, years before. She uttered a cry of relief as -Ramirez greeted her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, is it not a perfect disguise?” he said. “Why, I -might go into El Toro itself with impunity! Mount, child, -and keep close at my side!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>In a minute or less, with the assistance of Alva, Chata -was ready for the start,—her courage rising with the sense -of mystery and daring under which Ramirez seemed to -glow and expand. He paused to give his last commands -<span class='pageno' id='Page_384'>384</span>to Alva, of which she heard only the concluding words: -“Reyes should be here by daylight. Keep him at all -hazards, for he must sound Ruiz before another day -passes. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> I cannot believe that fellow has -failed me; but whether or no, the end will be the same,—except -that I swear if Ruiz prove false, were he twice -my godson he shall not escape my vengeance.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The General pulled his hat over his eyes, waved his -hand, struck the spurs into his horse, and led the way at -a swift canter. Chata until within the last few days had -never ridden on horseback; but she was singularly free -from fear or awkwardness, and with ease, though in -silence, kept at his side.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chata,” Ramirez once said abruptly, turning his dark -and piercing eyes upon her, “I am risking much for your -sake. Remember that you are my daughter. Be faithful -to me, obey my bidding, and I will cherish you as the -apple of my eye. It may depend upon you whether the -troops of Doña Isabel follow my lead or that of Gonzales. -You will know my meaning later; but I swear to you, -as I have done by Ruiz, my vengeance shall rest upon -whomsoever balks me,—yes, if it is even you, the newfound -daughter whom I love.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata trembled. Though his words were an enigma, -they indicated that her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</span></i> was not to be an utterly passive -one. Her companion awaited no answer, and Chata did -not attempt to make one. They rode on at ever increasing -speed as the night advanced. Just at daybreak they -reached a hut, which was placed at the mouth of a cañon. -There they left their horses, and an old woman appeared -with a crate of turkeys in each hand, one of which she -gave to the disguised chieftain, the other to the wondering -Chata.</p> - -<p class='c001'>An hour later they were in the streets of Guanapila, -and before they had broken their fast Chata sat overcome -with fatigue and dismay upon the stone stairs that led to -the corridor of a palatial residence. The ranchero, as the -servants supposed him, had gone to speak with the lady -of the mansion. It was a long time before he re-appeared; -and when he did, a beautiful woman preceded him. She -was very pale, and there was in her eyes an incredulous -and startled expression, which changed to pity as her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_385'>385</span>gaze fell upon Chata,—who, looking up, thought of the -pale and lovely face she had seen but once, and knew she -must be in the presence of Carmen, the sister of the nun -of El Toro.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez whispered a word in the ear of the bewildered -girl, it might be of warning or of farewell; but her senses -failed her,—she neither saw nor heard more.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Go, go!” cried the mistress of the house. “For -God’s sake go, before there is any one to wonder. -Whether your tale be true or false, she has the face of a -Garcia, and a loveliness and sweetness of her own. I will -guard her as though she were my child. Go, go! and the -saints grant you a safe passage. I will not betray your -confidence. Ah, she has fainted! I will manage that; it -shall be my pretext for charity.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez kissed the hand of the unconscious Chata, and -turned away. For once he had executed an act of extreme -self-denial, yet amid it all his crafty mind foresaw -how he might use it to his advantage.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The exit from the city was readily effected, but Ramirez -did not proceed many miles unrecognized after mounting -his horse at the hut where he had left it. The man who -spoke his name unhesitatingly, though in a cautious voice, -was Reyes. He gave the General unwelcome tidings. -Gonzales had joined forces with those of Tres Hermanos. -He had risked the attack and occupation of El Toro, and -it was conjectured would attempt the march to the Capital -itself, round which the audacious Juarez was from his -stronghold in Vera Cruz directing the concentration of -the Liberal forces.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez ground his teeth in rage. “I have been delayed -and hampered by that girl,” he cried. “Could I -but have gone straight to Ruiz, he would not have dared -defy me. As it is—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“As it is,” interrupted Reyes, “all is not yet lost. I -have still to see Ruiz,—he is not my son if it is impossible -to convince him upon which hot plate the cake is best -toasted.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The conference of the two men lasted but a few moments. -They had been so accustomed in their long intercourse -to treat of subjects of which one was as well -informed as the other, and upon the course to be taken -<span class='pageno' id='Page_386'>386</span>at the present time they were so well agreed, that they -parted with no attempt at explanation, but simply after a -few words of instruction had been given by Ramirez to -the other.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tell him,” the chief said finally, “I am ready to fulfil -my word; and if Ruiz be anxious to see her, let him risk -as much for love as I have done. She is at the house of -Doña Carmen Velasquez in Guanapila; and tell him as -surely as he is my godson and your son he shall be shot -as a traitor if he fails me in this affair. Good-by for a -time; good news or bad news, my blood is up for a desperate -venture now. It cannot be that after all these -years luck is turning against me at last.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It did that years ago when you stabbed the American,” -thought Reyes as they parted; “it was that that -weighted the scale. That accursed foreigner who is here to -avenge him has upset all our plans for misleading Gonzales. -With both together Ramirez has fearful odds against -him, which even with the help of Ruiz and his men he -may find it hard to combat. But how in heaven’s name -has the General his daughter with him? <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> I -have often wondered how he would relish that drunken -freak of mine! Faith, I did not care to try his temper -to-night by many questions. Well, who would have -thought he would have kept in the same mind for so -many years! To think of his striving to give her the -family training at this late date! Ah, ah, ah! it is more -likely to mar than to make her. If Fernando is of my -mind he will wait in such a matter for no pruning and -training, but pluck the flower while it is within his reach, -thorns and all.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>With which poetic simile, Tio Reyes rode on well -pleased on his errand to the young Ruiz, while Ramirez, -proceeding rapidly in the opposite direction, regained -within the hour his enthusiastic but disorderly horde.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_387'>387</span>XL.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Vain would be the attempt to describe the consternation -of Doña Isabel when she awoke at early dawn, and felt -about her that peculiar stillness—a stillness that seems -absolutely tangible—which indicates the abstraction of -the element of humanity from the associations about -us, and is especially impressive when that loss is utterly -unexpected.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was not yet daylight, and it was by this peculiar stillness, -and not by sight, that Doña Isabel learned with a -deadly feeling of dismay at her heart, that she was alone. -For a moment she lay silent, then raising herself on her -elbow sought to peer through the gloom, while with faltering -voice she uttered the name “Chinita.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was no answer. She would have been inexpressibly -surprised had there been; and yet refusing to be -convinced, she arose from her bed and made her way to -that of Chinita. Had the girl been there, in the infinite -relief and excitement of the moment the lady must have -clasped her in her arms with kisses and tears; as it was, -after passing her hands wildly over the empty couch, she -sank upon it with a deep and bitter moan, feeling anew, -and with the intensified agony of remembrance, the shock -with which she had heard the cry of Herlinda,—“My -husband! My husband!” What but a like betrayal -could in that place and time have drawn a young girl from -her chamber? Alas! alas!</p> - -<p class='c001'>The thoughts of Doña Isabel flew to Ruiz; a thousand -trifles, unheeded before, crowded her remembrance as confirmation -of some secret understanding between him and -Chinita. If she had noticed them at all it was to think -with a smile that they had reference to Rosario. How had -she been so blind! She sprang to her feet and hastily -dressed herself with some undefined intention of seeking -him in his quarters, and demanding an explanation of him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_388'>388</span>if he were to be found, or of confirming her worst fears if -he had fled. All her old distrust of him, which he had -so skilfully lulled, returned with overwhelming force, and -in her unfounded suspicion she included the more just one -of treason to her purposes to the cause of liberty and to -Gonzales, and with irresistible certainty became convinced -that the delays and detours which Ruiz had made had been -expedients of traitorous policy. In the few moments -needed for the completion of her toilet, a terrible fear took -possession of her. For the first time that night she had -been separated from the main body of the troops,—what -if she were abandoned! Nothing seemed more likely. -Only the great self-possession that she habitually practised -prevented her from rushing out—yes, even into the streets -of the village—to satisfy herself that the rude encampment -remained unbroken.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Yet with all this raging excitement of grief and doubt -within her, she presently stepped out upon the corridor with -that stately calmness which she ever wore before the world, -were it represented by but the meanest peasant. Day -had scarcely broken, yet there was a sound of movement -unusual in so small a place. To the excited mind of Doña -Isabel it appeared that like herself the people all must be -searching wildly for the girl who had so strangely escaped -her. She went to the inn door and looked out. The -camp-women were wandering through the streets already, -chaffering and bargaining with the vendors of milk and -bread and vegetables. In the distance she saw the soldiers -preparing for the march. Three or four officers were -lounging down the narrow street. To her infinite surprise -and relief she saw among them Ruiz. He hastened his -steps and joined her with an air of consternation, which -even in her excitement she noticed had in it a subdued -suggestion of apprehension as of one detected in some -doubtful act.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In a few words Doña Isabel apprised him of the disappearance -of Chinita. It was impossible that it could be -concealed; it was absolutely necessary that search should -be made. Ruiz listened with an emotion greater even -than hers. “Good heavens, Señora!” he cried, “we -are undone. Ramirez must be at hand. In some way -she has learned his whereabouts; she has fled to him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_389'>389</span>Doña Isabel thought Ruiz had suddenly gone mad. -“Fled to Ramirez!” she cried. “Impossible! What -can she know of the man? What object can she have -in seeking him?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Instinctively the lady had led the way back to the room -she had left. Ruiz followed her, in the utter demoralization -of his mind at the unexpected tidings, pouring out incoherent -explanations of the designs that Chinita had -cherished, and unconsciously revealing much of the duplicity -of the part he had himself acted. With an acuteness -of mind perhaps intensified by the keen emotion with -which she listened to the unexpected accusations against -the young girl, Doña Isabel conjectured at once that the -speaker had played a double part; and it was a not -improbable solution of the mystery of Chinita’s disappearance, -that in discovering this the young girl had resolved -to precipitate a crisis in the fate of the man who -exercised so unaccountable a fascination over her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Yet with whom had she fled? Had Ramirez himself -stolen into the inn and borne her away? The face of Ruiz -blanched at this suggestion. Had the girl learned what -was indeed a fact, that upon that very day the troops of -Doña Isabel Garcia were by their officers to protest against -a further attempt to reach Gonzales, and declaring Ruiz -their chosen and permanent leader were at once to take -up the march to join the forces of General Ortega, a newly -arisen and popular Liberal chieftain who was a personal -and implacable enemy of Ramirez,—thus leaving El Toro -to its fate? Had Chinita indeed gone with such news -to Ramirez? Ruiz felt that his doom was sealed, for -he rightly conjectured that the excitement of Chinita’s -disappearance had already dampened the ardor in his -behalf which he had found it a slow and almost impossible -task to awaken among the troops. Indeed, that -it had been roused at all was owing to the discontent -which had arisen through the cleverly concealed tactics -he had used in contriving so long and monotonous a -march to the aid of a man but little known or admired, -and from the general belief in the love of the beautiful -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i> of Doña Isabel for the young aspirant for fame. -In her hand the favor of Doña Isabel was supposed to lie. -Eager for action, eager for booty, brought to a point where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_390'>390</span>they were almost within sound of the bugles of General -Ortega, who was making his hurried and triumphant march -to the capital, it had been decided that upon that very -morning a <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">pronunciamento</span></i> should be made, which, while -involving no change of politics, should compel the consent -of Doña Isabel to the apparently spontaneous outburst -of patriotism upon the part of her troops, and -confirm Ruiz in the command that she had temporarily -confided to him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz had so cunningly planned every detail that he -doubted not that not only Doña Isabel, but Chinita as -well, would be convinced of his entire ignorance of the -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup</span></i>, and that the girl’s ambition, and perhaps a somewhat -malicious satisfaction in the reversal of the plans of -Doña Isabel, would lead her to an acceptance of the apparently -unavoidable forfeiture of her own desires.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To this end the ambitious young officer had been -patiently working since the day he had found himself at -the head of the troops of Tres Hermanos. He had been -amazed at his own success. Everything had seemed to -contribute to it. Not even the triumph of seeing himself -actually attracting the good-will, if not the love, of Chinita -had been denied him; and now at the moment least expected, -at the most critical juncture, she had failed him. -It was impossible for him to assume his usual self-sufficient -air as he re-issued from the apartment of Doña Isabel,—an -air that imposed on the majority of observers as that of -a man conscious of power, rather than as a disguise of incompetency. -His crest-fallen bearing as he gave the necessary -orders for scouts to be sent out in search of those -who in the night must have left the ill-guarded town was -evident to the most careless eye, and did much to increase -the feeling of distrust and coldness that was already -beginning to supplant the ill-considered ardor of a few -hours before.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The scouts had been despatched; and the main body -of the troops waited for marching orders, which were long -delayed. Ruiz, closeted with the men who had been most -amenable to his reasoning, urged openly the arguments -that he had but covertly suggested before. That exhausted -apathy which following an exploded project is -far more hopeless than that which, merely unignited, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_391'>391</span>precedes its agitation, resisted all his efforts at revival. -The officers, like the soldiers, listlessly waited to hear -what would happen next, absolutely indifferent to Ruiz, -and concerned for the moment in a mere matter of gossip,—the -escapade of a young girl.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Toward noon some of the messengers returned. Most -of them had nothing to report, but the vaquero Gabriel, -the husband of Juana, as soon as he could escape the -questioning of Ruiz, disappeared. An hour later he -entered the apartment of Doña Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“What news, Gabriel, what news?” the lady cried -excitedly. “Did you come upon any trace of—of the -child; of those who have stolen her away?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The vaquero shook his head, and Doña Isabel groaned. -Those few hours had wrought a terrible change in her -appearance. She was not young and able to meet shocks -of disaster as she had been when they had shaken her -in by-gone years.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I found no trace of them, my Señora,” said the man, -slowly. “Perhaps my eyes are not as keen as they were, -and they say when one thinks much one sees little. Since -I am married I find one must think. A woman gives one -abundance for thought. She grinds care for a man more -surely than corn for his bread.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel looked up at him quickly. She knew that -this oracular sentence had some bearing on the subject -that absorbed her thoughts. “Speak,” she said. “What -has your wife to do with this?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“She was the playmate of the young Señorita,” he -suggested.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“True, but what of that?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“She would be likely to be in her confidence,—at least -where there was no other to trust.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel started, looking at him with fixed attention.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The thought came to me as I rode out of the town,—it -came back to me again and again. After hours of -vain search I suffered myself to be convinced. I came -back and taxed Juana with knowing with whom, and when -and where, her friend had gone.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Well?” ejaculated Doña Isabel, in extreme agitation.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“She denied it. By all the saints she denied it; but I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_392'>392</span>had a saint she had forgotten to commend herself to.” -He smiled significantly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel understood the arguments used by rancheros -to refractory wives too well to doubt what his grim -jest meant. At another time she would have indignantly -dismissed from her presence the man who admitted laying -a hand in castigation upon his wife; now she merely by -an imperative gesture urged him to finish what he had to -communicate.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It was as I thought,” he said coolly. “Two men -talked with her last night. The one was Juana’s brother, -Pepé; the other was the Señor Americano your grace -knows of.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel sank back in her chair as if struck by a -sharp weapon. “The American! the American!” she -repeated again and again. She felt as though a hand had -been thrust from the grave to torture her. The superstitious -dread which had been planted in her breast by the -first glimpse of the face of Ashley Ward, and which had -perhaps led her irresistibly to a course that the resolution -of years would under ordinary circumstances have rendered -impossible to a nature as tenacious as was her own, became -a horrible certainty. Evil fate in the guise of the American -appeared to pursue her. Whatever the purpose with -which he had lured Chinita from her side, it could but be -productive of woe for her. Would the tale of her daughter’s -shame and her own apparent heartlessness be told -throughout the land? Had this pale and seemingly spiritless -young man resolved on such a vengeance of his -cousin’s fancied wrongs? Or—worse still—was this but -a repetition of the old, old tale of passion and folly? -Doña Isabel covered her face with her hand and groaned -again.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gabriel had called his wife to the room, and she came -with eyes red with weeping, and told the tale that seemed -to her best. Fearful of bringing the vengeance of the -Señora upon Pepé, should she avow that he had left the -inn alone with Chinita, she declared he had but accompanied -the American, whom she boldly affirmed had set -out for the coast, with the young girl, intending to set sail -for the wild country whence he had come.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel and Gabriel both knew too well the inventive -<span class='pageno' id='Page_393'>393</span>genius of their countrywomen literally to believe all -she said; yet as hour after hour passed by and no news -of the fugitives was heard, and no trace of them in spite -of the most untiring search was found, they were at length -led to conclude—the one with despair—that Juana’s -words were true, and that the brief connection of the -beautiful foster-child of Pedro Gomez with the lady of -Tres Hermanos was ended forever.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_394'>394</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Never perhaps did so marked a change occur in the discipline -and carriage of any body of troops, from a cause -apparently so slight, as that which followed the flight of -Chinita. Of the visit of the American nothing was publicly -known, but the wildest rumors of her probable action -ran like wildfire through the ranks, the name of Ramirez -coupled with her own being on every tongue. So potent -was the fame of the guerilla chieftain and the fascination -of Chinita, that a word from her at that excited moment -would have acted like fire on straw, and set a blaze to the -smouldering insubordination and disappointed energies of -the baffled and impatient recruits, who had entered upon -the service from love of adventure and booty rather than -with any fixed convictions or an intelligent conception of -the interests at stake.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel wore before the world the same impassive -face as ever, but at night the demon powers of remorse -and intolerable anxiety wrought cruel havoc with its -beauty. It was impossible too for her to conceal utterly -the suspicion and distrust with which Ruiz inspired her; -and the influence which through Chinita mainly he had -for a brief period acquired, both over Doña Isabel and the -troops, and which at best had been looked upon as a -privilege he should yield later with his authority to Gonzales, -began to wane rapidly. Dissatisfaction and mutinous -threatenings were manifested on every hand, and the -position of Ruiz but for the presence of Doña Isabel would -have been absolutely untenable; and a crisis was evidently -imminent, when the long desired leader suddenly appeared -to relieve the tension of the situation, and to awaken a -frenzy of enthusiasm for the cause, which had been at the -point of abandonment.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was with intense relief that Ruiz himself greeted the -appearance of Gonzales, unexpected though it was, and -incomprehensible the means by which he had obtained -<span class='pageno' id='Page_395'>395</span>information that had led him so completely to alter his -plans. That the American was concerned in the matter -Ruiz did not doubt, though he could imagine no clew to -his motives, the conviction being still in the mind of the -baffled officer of Chinita’s indifference to Ashley, and of -her flight to Ramirez.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was with amazement and alarm that Gonzales witnessed -the ravages of time and care upon the once beautiful -and stately Doña Isabel. The very excess of joy with -which she welcomed him seemed weak and pitiful. He -had been detained long upon the way from El Toro by a -series of petty annoyances, such as the bad state of the -roads and a succession of trifling skirmishes with the -enemy, resulting in burdening the march with the care of -the wounded; and thus the loss of Chinita had become -to Doña Isabel by the time of his arrival an assured -fact. With tears of anguish she told him of the ingratitude -of the child she loved, though she carefully concealed -the fact that she supposed her to be other than one of the -class of people from whom she had taken her; and with -this explanation only Gonzales could not enter fully into -her grief, or accept the fact that the loss of her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i> -was indeed the entire cause of her anguish. Had she not -mourned for years as he had the living entombment of -her daughter Herlinda? Had not the sight of him revived -in her mind the keenness of her woe?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel was ill both in body and in mind; worn out -with anxiety and the fatigues of travel, the reaction occasioned -by the appearance of Gonzales was doubtless too -great for her enfeebled powers. To his extreme embarrassment -and anxiety he found himself charged with the unexpected -responsibility of the care of a lady of much social -consequence, and one personally extremely dear to him, -who was stricken with an illness that demanded the most -efficient attendance and complete isolation from disturbing -influences. Added to the present necessity of gaining -the confidence of the disorganized troops, and of continuing -the march with the most unrelaxing vigilance, the -situation thus became most onerous to the young commander,—not -the less so because of the presence of a -man he had thwarted and displaced, and whom it was -necessary to keep in view and perhaps conciliate.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_396'>396</span>Upon the next night after the arrival of Gonzales, when -Ruiz with seeming cordiality though with relief and rage -contending in his mind had yielded his command, he strode -to the outskirts of the camp, and smoking or rather forgetting -to smoke a cigarette, mentally reviewed with bitter -disappointment the perplexing and conflicting events -that had led to so utter an overthrowal of his carefully -concocted schemes. With the rapidity and excitement of -his thoughts, his pace increased as though he was striving -to tread down his mortification while he was preparing -therefor a speedy and certain revenge.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The thought of this was chiefly directed toward Chinita. -But for her flight Ruiz doubted not his position would have -been so firmly assured that he would have been enabled to -carry out his schemes. Thus he had hoped to find himself -at the head of a force which in the event of final victory -would have recommended him to the highest honors in the -gift of Juarez, or at any rate assured him against the -vengeance of Ramirez. To treachery time had added -actual hatred of the man who had befriended him, and -whose evil deeds, while he professed to abhor them, he -would have rejoiced to have courage and address to imitate, -and of whom he still held a superstitious dread, -which had once been absolute awe.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It maddened the recreant follower of Ramirez to think -of Chinita in the power of such a man. That day the last -wild escapade of the lawless adventurer, the torture of -Pedro, had in some way reached the ears of Ruiz and -destroyed a lingering hope he had cherished that the girl, -proud and hard though he believed her, had in some impulse -of affection gone to her foster-father,—a thought -that he had not even hinted to Doña Isabel, for with -petty spite he refrained from uttering that which he -imagined might give relief to her long agony. He imagined -how Chinita, who doubtless had seen through his -double dealing, would make it contemptible by her scorn, -and ridiculous with her irony; and how Ramirez would, -after listening to her account of him rise his sworn enemy: -Ruiz had witnessed such scenes. No; return to Ramirez -was impossible. Besides, that chieftain’s ultimate defeat -was certain: the Liberal cause was strengthening every -hour. Ramirez must have lost his former keenness to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_397'>397</span>follow thus a losing venture. Ruiz began to console himself -by thoughts of how, though only in a subordinate part, -he should assist in the discomfiture of the proud general -and that of the girl who loved him,—for the ignoble youth -was incapable of believing hers to be the love of a mere -unreasoning child, though to a purer heart her words would -have a thousand times declared her enthusiasm to be but -a fanatical admiration, untouched by a tinge of passion. -The maddening jealousy that had raged in the heart of -Ruiz since he had learned of the flight of Chinita, and had -rendered him incapable of a sustained effort to renew the -ambitious projects so fatally shaken, now flamed up with -cruel intensity; and yet he loved her. At that moment -he would have liked to throttle her, yet would have recalled -her to life with words of passionate love and burning -kisses.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As he pondered, he struck his breast with his clinched -hand. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i>” he muttered, “is all lost? Is there -no way to overset this miserable favorite of the Señora? -Maria Sanctissima! who is that?” His hand like a flash -passed to his pistol.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hist!” said a voice. “It is I, Fernando. I have not -a moment to spare. I have tried to gain a way to thee for -an hour or more. I know all that has passed. Fool! -thou shouldst have raised the battle-cry for Ramirez before -this Gonzales reached thee; there were men with -thee who would have sustained thee well!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Bah! a man has opinions,” answered Ruiz, coolly, -recognizing the voice; “and if Ramirez still chooses to -fight for the priests, that is no argument for my being as -mad. I tell you plainly, Father, I am tired of playing a -boy’s part; you will hear of me yet as something more -than the lieutenant of Gonzales.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Big words, big words,” laughed Tio Reyes. “Now -listen to that which I have to say to you;” and leaning -from his saddle in a few concise words he delivered the -message of Ramirez, adding a few paternal injunctions -as to the conduct Ruiz should in future observe.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Up to this time nothing is lost,” he continued; “in -truth had you acted in good faith, no course could have -been better save this last step,—but that may easily be recalled. -Ramirez will soon be prepared to attack Gonzales -<span class='pageno' id='Page_398'>398</span>in force; his mind was set on regaining El Toro, but that -can be deferred. ‘When the loaf is cut the crumbs may be -soon eaten!’ Be you prepared to pass over to your rightful -commander at the last moment with all your men. The -rest of the troop will follow like sheep. Bah! what is the -name of Gonzales to that of Ramirez! With the forces -we could then combine, what might we not attempt! I -promise you in the name of Ramirez, on his honor as a -soldier and his faith as your godfather, a free pardon for -all that has passed. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba</span></i>, man! I can’t imagine -how you could have been so mad. I have seen the girl -who has bewitched you, and by my faith I thought her -nothing more than any other brown chit, save that her eyes -were darker and bigger than most, and her tongue sharper -than a man cares to find between his wife’s lips! What, -you hesitate? You believe Ramirez at the bottom of a pit, -and the pit dry? Fool! He has treasure you know nothing -of; and as for men, did the mountain villages ever -fail him?—and you know how many may be counted on -here. <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba</span></i>, try them! Tell them he has sacked -Tres Hermanos.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I know it,” said Ruiz, thoughtfully, “and doubtless the -booty was great!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Reyes shrugged his shoulders but did not contradict -him, reiterating again and again the assurances of the -favor of Ramirez in the event of Ruiz’s acceptance of his -proposals, and on the contrary the chief’s determination to -wreak an awful vengeance upon his god-child should he -prove obdurate and attempt to carry to injurious lengths -the treacherous intrigues which he had designed against -his benefactor.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz vehemently denied his guilt, yet hesitated to make -promises which, whether kept or broken, might make still -more dubious his future position. Reyes read his mind, -and at length said coolly,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The fact is, you have been bred a servant of Ramirez. -When I swore the service of my life to him, yours went -with it. You are the one creature in the world he has never -met with a frown or given a harsh word to; but do you think -he will spare you for that? No; if you should fall into his -hands as a traitor, which sooner or later you would be sure -to do, you would be shot! Yes, like a dog,—” and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_399'>399</span>speaker spat on the ground to emphasize his contempt. -“But if you are reasonable he will forget all that has -passed,—more than I would do in his place I can tell -you; ay, he will even give you his daughter.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“His daughter!” echoed Ruiz with a sneer.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“On my soul, you must be hard to please,” cried his -father. “For the girl’s sake I was sorry enough he killed -the fool of a gatekeeper five days ago. For all her proud -ways, she loved him like a child,—more than she will -love Ramirez though he is her father, when she hears -of this mad deed.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz sprang to his side. “What do you mean?” he -cried, seizing his arm. “Is Chinita the daughter of Ramirez? -Is she with him? Is she indeed the girl who has -been promised to me for these years and years? <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Por -Dios</span></i>, what would I not do for her? What would I not -dare? But I do not believe it. Ramirez knows I love -her; this is but a deception. Ah, I know him too well!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Reyes laughed. “He told me if you were not satisfied -you might go and see for yourself. Faith, he had no -thought you loved her already. I met him on the road as -he came back from leaving her. Does that surprise you? -He is a careful father; she is in the house of the Señora’s -daughter, Doña Carmen.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz seemed stunned. Reyes saw that his point was -gained, and uttered but a few words more, which elicited -only the response,—“Ramirez’s daughter? Wonderful, -wonderful! And after all, she will be mine. Heavens! -how can I live a day longer without seeing her? Commend -me to the Señor General. You know, my father, -my heart is good, though my brain may have erred! Tell -me, has she said but one good word for me? She—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Enough!” cried Reyes, laughing the more. “I have -not seen her, I tell thee; and if thou wouldst know what -she thinks, find a pretext and see her at Doña Carmen’s -house. It was a strange freak of the General’s to take -her there, but a happy one. Thou shalt not be molested -on the way, I promise thee. But I have no further time -for talking. Adios! thou art the only man I have ever -seen whom love has brought to his right senses. It will -be well if thou art as sane a year after the wedding!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The two men embraced, in the fashion of the country, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_400'>400</span>and with an ardor on the part of Ruiz that he seldom -affected.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Caramba!</span></i> the father is a man of a thousand,” he -muttered to himself as he watched him disappear, guiding -his horse so deftly that not a sound broke the silence -of the night. “Virgin of consolation!” he continued, as -he walked slowly back to his quarters. “This is like a -dream. Plague upon it! That is the fault of my father; -he is always in haste. I would have asked him a thousand -questions, had he given me but a quarter of an hour. But -it is of Chinita herself I will ask them. Surely she must -have shown some favor toward me, or my godfather -would not recommend me to her with such confidence. -<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Santo Niño</span></i>, show me some way to make it possible to -steal into Guanapila and exchange a word with her!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The curiosity of the young man as much as his love -prompted the latter aspiration. His suspicion of the identity -of Ramirez with the brother of Doña Isabel, the Leon -Vallé so long supposed dead, returned to him with force; -but he longed to know whether the secret of her birth had -been conveyed to Chinita, and how her flight had been -contrived. He pictured her then like a bird in a cage -beating herself against the iron bars of Doña Carmen’s -windows. That was not what she had hoped for when -she had talked to him of Ramirez. If she had tolerated -him before, would he not now be doubly dear, as one -who should liberate her from the natural restraints of a -maiden’s life?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz forgot his fancied wrongs in an intoxication of -delight. Constant pondering upon the question how he -should manage to evade the vigilance and suspicions of -Gonzales and effect a visit to Guanapila kept him preoccupied, -yet feverishly alert, until the increased indisposition -of Doña Isabel brought about what appeared to him -a special interposition in his behalf, and in pleading for the -aid of “Our Lady of the Impossible” he promised her in -pious gratitude a candle of enormous proportions.</p> - -<p class='c001'>To reach a point where he might leave his generous but -failing friend had become the most earnest desire of Gonzales. -But its fulfilment had seemed an impossibility, for -from the time he assumed command of the troops almost -hourly news had been brought to him of gatherings of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_401'>401</span>bands of Conservatives, which promised to offer formidable -resistance to any movement he might make; and until -Doña Isabel was safety disposed of, he desired at almost -any risk to avoid an open collision.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The march had slowly proceeded, and so constantly had -Gonzales been occupied, and so serious became the condition -of Doña Isabel, that there was but little conversation -between them, and somewhat to his impatience that -on her part had been limited to a few brief sentences of -warning against Ruiz and constant inquiries for Chinita, -and entreaties that search should be made for her in -every direction.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales, as far as was possible, had obeyed these inopportune -requests; but the anxiety and grief that -prompted them seemed to him strained and unnatural, -though he could not doubt after due inquiry made that the -lost girl was of remarkable beauty and of an original and -fascinating character. Still, his knowledge of the class -whence he supposed her sprung had made quite credible -to him the generally accepted theory of her flight. Yet -he started when Doña Isabel had mentioned the American -as her probable companion or instigator, adding in a low -voice, “Twice an American has robbed him.” What did -she mean? His cheek flushed as he remembered that it -had been said that for love of the murdered Ashley, Herlinda -had taken the veil. And had Doña Isabel dreamed -that he would find consolation after so many years in this -beautiful peasant girl whom she had raised from the dust? -Gonzales silently resented the insinuation. Yet none the -less the suggestion of the complicity of the American in -her disappearance haunted and vexed him. He did not -tell Doña Isabel that to Ward he owed the definite news -of the approach of reinforcements, and that he had virtually -left him in charge of El Toro, and that the commission -from Juarez for which the foreigner had applied -had already doubtless reached him. Had he betrayed -this young girl,—the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i> of Doña Isabel,—in spite -of his zeal in his service the American should have much -to answer for to him. A few weeks would decide all. -He preferred to wait patiently the development of affairs, -and refrained from perplexing further the mind of Doña -Isabel.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_402'>402</span>Meanwhile the condition of the lady had become rapidly -worse. Perhaps she had brought from Tres Hermanos -the germs of the disease that during these very days was -working such terrible havoc there; perhaps the long days -and nights of exertion, anxiety, and grief had produced -it,—but certain it is that as the position of Gonzales -became more critical, so the imminent danger of Doña -Isabel increased. A desperate evil commands a desperate -remedy. So it was at length decided that an effort should -be made to convey the lady to the city of Guanapila, to -the house of her daughter Doña Carmen; and Ruiz, in -the utter impossibility that Gonzales found of personally -conducting the party, was permitted to execute the delicate -and important trust.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With an apparent readiness of resource and disregard -of danger, which commended him greatly to the perplexed -General, Ruiz himself had proposed the measure.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Taking the precaution to send with him men from Tres -Hermanos only, and such as he knew to be warmly devoted -to their mistress, Gonzales acceded to the plans -of the wily young officer, and despatched him upon the -important and seemingly dangerous mission.</p> - -<p class='c001'>After the separation of the detailed party from the -main body, skirmishing parties began upon the latter frequent -and harassing attacks, and the suspicions of Gonzales -were again aroused by the impunity which Ruiz -enjoyed, yet alternated with fears for his ultimate safety. -He could scarcely believe that knowing it to be in their -power to secure so rich a prize as Doña Isabel, the hungry -forces of the clergy would suffer her to escape, unless -indeed Ruiz was himself as false as he had once suspected. -Again and again he reproached himself for yielding to the -apparent frankness and loyalty of the man he had at first -distrusted, and with an anxiety which grew into actual -torture he awaited the outcome of the action which -circumstances against his will and judgment had forced -upon him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz, unmolested, made his way as rapidly as the condition -of his charge permitted toward Guanapila. He comprehended -well the circumstances which were distracting -the mind of Gonzales. These constant though petty attacks -he knew from information sent by Reyes were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_403'>403</span>destined to weaken the prestige of Gonzales by a series -of petty misadventures, after which his destruction by -the desertion of Ruiz, followed by the mass of the disaffected, -might, it was conjectured, be readily accomplished. -It seemed the simplest matter in the world to -effect, and had been instantly agreed to by Ruiz in the -hasty conference with his father. Yet further reflection -gave him an unaccountable antipathy to the course he was -to pursue. It cannot be said that a lingering trace of -honor influenced him, or any genuine disapproval of the -character or convictions of Ramirez, for Ruiz was in the -widest sense a man to be bought and sold, a creature influenced -by every turn of advantage; but in spite of all that -had passed between him and Reyes, he doubted the good -faith of Ramirez. The good fortune that was to give -him Chinita at so slight a cost seemed to him incredible. -Did the girl love him, and had she owned as much? Or -was she to be fooled into acquiescence in the plans of -Ramirez by the chimera of his parental power? No; he -knew Chinita too well to believe she would marry against -her own desire, even to gratify a parent who exerted over -her the extraordinary ascendency that she had instinctively -acknowledged in Ramirez. Ruiz was, moreover, impressed -with a belief in the ultimate disaster of the Conservative -cause. For Chinita’s sake he would risk involvement in -the ruin he foresaw, hoping that by some spar he himself -might float; but unless assured of her good-will,—the -thoughts of the young conspirator carried him no further, -unless vaguely to conjecture the extent of power which he -might thereafter exert over the fortunes of Doña Isabel, -through his connection with her mysterious <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i>.</p> - -<p class='c001'>With ill-concealed impatience, and hopes and emotions -which every hour grew more dazzling and overpowering, -Ruiz at length found himself in the house of Doña Carmen, -and in her presence and that of her young companion. -With inexpressible amazement, instead of her he sought -he found himself face to face with Chata, the supposed -daughter of Don Rafael.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The confusion and excitement of the arrival gave almost -instantly an opportunity for him to pour into the -ear of the young girl the burning questions which rushed -to his lips. In the necessity in which she found herself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_404'>404</span>to attend instantly the wants of her mother, Doña Carmen -left the young soldier and her charge alone together. -Breathlessly demanding of Chata news of Chinita, Ruiz revealed -to the astounded girl the separation of her playmate -from Doña Isabel, the mystery of her flight, and the extraordinary -purposes which the young girl had cherished -in relation to Ramirez. In every word too he betrayed -his own love for her he denounced, and the raging -jealousy which possessed him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata in her extreme agitation, forgetting the promises -she had made, revealed her own connection with Ramirez, -in describing in a few brief sentences the scenes which -had taken place at Tres Hermanos, and especially the -means by which she had saved Don Rafael. She could -not comprehend the rage and disgust with which Ruiz -flung himself from her when she announced herself to -be the daughter of Ramirez, but a moment later it flashed -upon her that she had heard herself named as the destined -bride of this man who so openly despised her. Had he -too known of the destiny awarded him? She turned -from him with a burning blush, and without a word they -parted. She remembered afterward that she might perhaps -have sent news to the hacienda,—to her foster-father -Don Rafael, to Doña Feliz did she still live; -but her one chance had gone, and her semi-imprisonment -began anew. Doña Carmen was not again betrayed into -a momentary forgetfulness of her charge.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz turned from the house with a thousand conflicting -emotions. The encounter with Chata had produced in his -mind an absolute fury of resentment, as he reflected that -this was the girl whom Ramirez had promised him as his -wife,—in his boyhood jestingly; in his manhood as a reward, -an incentive. Heavens! what was this puny creature -in comparison with Chinita? And Chinita was perhaps at -that very moment with Ramirez,—perhaps even laughing -with him over the weakness and discomfiture of the -youth they had combined to deceive! With blind and -insensate rage, Ruiz believed himself the victim of a conspiracy -between Ramirez and his own father to substitute -this girl for the peerless creature that he loved, and who -doubtless was at that moment in the camp of her triumphant -lover. They had thought to entrap him into furthering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_405'>405</span>their designs, deeming it impossible that he should -enter Guanapila and discover the trick that was to be -played upon him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ruiz did not for a moment conceive it possible that -Ramirez had known nothing of his love for Chinita, or -that his father had himself been ignorant of the identity -of the girl whom Ramirez had claimed as his daughter, -or that Reyes had drawn a false conclusion from his own -hasty questions.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In this mood Ruiz was presently met by old acquaintances, -before whom he was forced to mask his excitement; -and moreover they were in festive humor, which prevented -them from being observant or critical. The town, but -imperfectly garrisoned, had for some time held an anxious -and harassed populace, prognosticating nothing but invasion -and the levy of forced loans; but it chanced that on -that day a guest had arrived, who by the mere magic of -his presence, unattractive and unimpressive as was his -bearing, inspired confidence and hope. Benito Juarez -himself had made one of those secret incursions for -which he was famed, and had reached Guanapila with -the purpose of conferring with such officers of his party -as had ventured to meet him. There were but few, and -Ruiz was honored by an invitation to represent Gonzales. -The deference paid him as a delegate from so important -a leader, in command of so considerable a force, raised -to its highest pitch the absolute fury of resentment that -convulsed the desperate lover; and at the banquet that -followed the conference, the wine and flattering notice of -the Liberal President completed the overthrow of the little -caution that he had hitherto maintained in his speech and -demeanor.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The toasts drunk were loud and frequent, and the name -of Ramirez was the most deeply execrated. Many of the -young men indulged in extravagant boasts and declarations -as to the deeds they would accomplish in the near -future, scorning the prowess of the man at whose very name -they were accustomed to tremble. Some one spoke with a -laugh of a beautiful girl who had been seen in his company -but a few days before. It was not until afterward that -Ruiz reflected that the spy had probably caught a glimpse -of Chata on her way from Tres Hermanos. At the moment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_406'>406</span>his mind was full of Chinita, and rising impetuously, in a -torrent of fiery words he broke into denunciation and invective, -telling the tale of Pedro’s martyrdom as he had -heard it, and vowing that as Ramirez had slain the poor -peasant, so he himself would accomplish the defeat and -death of the “mountain wolf.” “I promise you, Señores,” -he concluded, “that when you next hear of Fernando -Ruiz you shall have cause to remember the vow I have -here made. Ramirez is doomed!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The stoical man at the head of the table smiled faintly -at the storm of applause that followed this speech, and as -Ruiz a few minutes later took his departure Juarez muttered -to his neighbor, “That young fellow will bear watching. -He has either a tremendous personal wrong to -avenge, or he is striving to mislead us. I know him to -be the godson of this very Ramirez, whom he thunders -against. A Mexican may turn against, may even murder, -his own father; but his godfather,—he must be a renegade -indeed to attempt his destruction!” His neighbor -assented.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When the words of Ruiz were reported to Ramirez,—as -reported they were a few days later,—he smiled as -grimly as Benito Juarez himself had done. “The cockerel -crows loud,” he said. “He was always a blusterer. -Well, we shall see; a week at latest will decide all that. -Bah! if the fellow but had in him the blood of his father!—but -with the name of his mother he must have taken a -braggart’s tongue. It will be well for him if he does not -weary my patience in the end. But for my promise to -Reyes—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>He frowned darkly. Had Ruiz seen the face of his -godfather then he might have repented his boast. As -it was, his own mad words served as a spur urging him -to the inevitable future. He returned to the camp of -Gonzales unmolested, and was received with intense -relief, with thanks and praises, yet wore thereafter a -dark and vengeful face.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_407'>407</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>The arrival of Doña Isabel at the house of her daughter -brought a change into the life of Chata that might have been -considered even more dreary and oppressive than the semi-imprisonment -to which she had thus far been subjected, -though she was spoken of as an honored guest. In fact -this change was most welcome to the young girl; for while -it afforded her even less freedom of movement, it gave a -sufficient reason for her seclusion, as also occupation both -to body and mind.</p> - -<p class='c001'>What had been the nature of the communication that -Ramirez had made to Doña Carmen, Chata knew not, but -it had evidently impressed that lady with a deep sense -of responsibility. In those days there were even in the -quietest times no regular mails into the country districts, -and this gave a ready pretext to Doña Carmen for resisting -all attempts to communicate with the household at -Tres Hermanos. The highways, infested as they were by -roving bands of soldiers and banditti, were indeed scarcely -safe for the transmission of even peaceful intelligence; -and thus none reached Guanapila from the hacienda, and -Chata, and in a lesser degree Doña Carmen herself, endured -a painful uncertainty as to the condition of Don -Rafael and of Doña Feliz and others whom Chata had left -stricken with the dreaded fever. Day by day she had -awaited news; day by day she had hoped for the appearance -of Doña Isabel and Chinita,—while Doña Carmen, -after listening with astonishment and some manifestations -of displeasure to the account Chata gave of the departure -of her mother from Tres Hermanos under the escort of -troops destined to the relief of Gonzales, gave the opinion -that the destination she would seek would be El Toro -rather than Guanapila.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“My sister the religious is at present there,” she said; -and Chata with glowing face, and lips that trembled at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_408'>408</span>the memory, told her of the chance glimpse she had once -caught of the beautiful and saintly nun.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Carmen’s eyes filled with tears, and she silently -embraced the girl; the little incident drew Chata nearer -to her heart. “Ah, child,” she would say, “I never have -known, I never could conjecture, why our beautiful Herlinda -chose so sad a life,—it must be sad to be shut away -from this fair world, from sweet companionship, from love. -Yes, Herlinda might have chosen from among a score of -the handsomest and noblest of cavaliers. And then our -mother,—how she loved her! one might see it through -all her sternness. I never knew the truth, yet I am sure -a great and terrible sorrow caused Herlinda to enter a -convent. She had no inherent fitness, no liking natural or -acquired, for such a life.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Carmen was not accustomed to speak thus freely -of family affairs. She had much of the characteristic -reticence of the Garcias. Chata met many of the younger -members from time to time. They were too well bred to -show any curiosity concerning her; but among the servants -of the household and of others, there was much gossip as -to how and why she had come, and what relationship she -bore to the husband of Doña Carmen, who, kind and -amiable man that he was, seemed to take peculiar pleasure -in her companionship. But the arrival of Doña Isabel -in an apparently dying condition turned all thoughts into -a new channel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>From the first, Chata had entreated to be allowed to -take her part in nursing the stricken lady, but had been -gently refused. Thereafter, the husband of Doña Carmen -used often to see their young guest gliding restlessly about -the house vainly seeking some distraction for her anxious -thoughts. He did not know the secret pain that tormented -her. He would gladly have facilitated her return if he -could to that Don Rafael from whom in a mad freak the -mountain chieftain had stolen her; yet there were circumstances,—there -were reasons for not offending one so -powerful. Who knew? Guanapila was of course under -Liberal rule to-day, but what would it be to-morrow? -The cautious man shrugged his shoulders and said something -of this to Chata, who smiled and thought him good -to care, yet wondered with all his goodness and his years,—the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span>years that had not brought in their train any additional -attractiveness to his person,—that Doña Carmen -loved him. Was it as she had heard, that his riches had -beguiled one already passing rich?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Since she had left El Toro, Chata had become a woman. -Change of scene had given impetus to the somewhat retarded -development of her physique, and mental anxiety -had stimulated her mind and given to it an intuitive appreciation -of causes and events that is generally gained -by innocent and unsuspicious natures, such as hers, only -after long experience.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Thus she comprehended fully, as she would not have -done a few months before, the gravity of the step Chinita -had taken in separating herself from Doña Isabel. Ruiz -had not spared the woman he loved in the few brief sentences -he had passionately uttered: love was with him but -a devouring flame, ready to destroy its object either in the -struggle of attainment or in the fury of baffled desire. -Chata blushed even in secret when she remembered the -aspersions he had cast upon the friend of her childhood. -She knew the innate purity of the girl’s mind, though it -had been developed amid surroundings which might well -have tainted it. She knew her pride: even when she was -but the barefoot foster-child of Pedro the gatekeeper, -Chinita had held Pepé and his mates as far apart from her -as the dogs that followed them or the mules they tended. -Dogs and mules she liked well and made serve her needs, -as also she did the lads. Chata did not doubt that Pepé -now as ever had proved himself the slave of Chinita’s will. -Perhaps it was to Tres Hermanos she had gone. Although -knowing as she did the fascination that Ramirez had -always exerted over the girl’s mind, she could not but fear -that led not by reckless passion but by a spirit of devotion -at which Ruiz had sneered, yet in which Chata herself -recognized the peculiar strength and determination -of Chinita’s character, the impulsive creature might actually -have sought an entrance to the camp to urge the plan -that she conceived was to further the glory of the Church -and the interest of him whom she had made the hero of -her imagination. That Ashley Ward was in any way -concerned in the disappearance of Chinita, either as a -principal or an accessory, Chata indignantly refused to believe. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span>Her heart beat suffocatingly as she thought of him. -No, no! he was not a man to entice a girl to her ruin.</p> - -<p class='c001'>And as days went by news reached Chata that strengthened -this conviction. The American was engaged in -deeds of a far different character. In his way he was -beginning to fill the minds and occupy the conversation -of people as much as Ramirez had ever done. They gave -him a new name, as those at the hacienda had done; but -Conservatives and Liberals alike wondered at and exaggerated -his exploits, until Ashley had won a reputation for -reckless bravado quite foreign to his true character,—which -was exhibiting itself in the most careful and nice -calculations of chances, the whole tending toward the -fulfilment of the task to which he had dedicated himself; -namely, the downfall of the unpunished and unrepentant -murderer of John Ashley.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata recognized this, and was filled with emotions perhaps -more conflicting, more strange, than had ever before -met in the breast of so young a girl. They held her -thoughts by day and night. Oh that she had never left -Ramirez! Oh that she could speak but for a few moments -with Ashley! But she was powerless; and meanwhile -what was the fate of Chinita? What that impending over -the man she was in duty bound to warn,—to love if it -were possible?</p> - -<p class='c001'>But before these reflections had reached this point, an -employment that prevented them from becoming utterly -overwhelming was afforded her. Chata no longer wandered -aimlessly about the house, but kept the strict seclusion of -Doña Isabel’s apartment, to which she had been hastily -summoned one night by Doña Carmen herself.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“My mother talks so strangely,” she had said in a low -voice, pressing her hands to her white and frightened face. -“No, I cannot comprehend what she says; but I cannot -have the servants about her. They might imagine unspeakable -things. Oh, what tales and rumors they might -set afloat! No, no! I will not have them here, with their -suspicions and evil thoughts. But you,—you are innocent -and frank; you will not torture into strange meanings -the mutterings of a diseased imagination.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no!” answered Chata, reassuringly. “It was the -same with Doña Feliz. Sometimes she talked so strangely, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>so sadly, one was forced to weep, and then again to -laugh; yes, in all my trouble I laughed. But I will not -now, Doña Carmen; only let me be useful. Doña Isabel -did not seem to like me when she was at the hacienda, so -I kept as much as possible out of her sight. She said my -face was not such as Don Rafael’s daughter should have; -and after all,” she added sadly, “she was right.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>What passed in that sick chamber through those long -days and nights Doña Carmen and Chata never repeated, -even to each other. Perhaps they could not, all was so -disconnected, so improbable, and through all her delirium -the patient held so great a restraint over her utterances. -Sometimes one escaped her that startled and commanded -attention; but the next invariably contradicted it, and it -was impossible to form a connected theory even had Chata -tried. But that great sorrows, events to cause constant -and secret care and remorse, had taken place in the life -of Doña Isabel, and that they concerned Chinita closely, -was abundantly clear. What pathetic appeals, what wild -ravings, in which the names of those who had lived in -the past,—of her husband, her mother, her brother, and -of Herlinda,—were constantly mingled with those of -the American and Chinita. And friends or servants followed -each other in endless yet confusing succession; -yet of them all the name of Chinita was the most frequent. -The present grief combined all others; in Chinita seemed -centred the agonies and loves of her lifetime.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata listened with a sort of envy. Ah, if it had been -given to her to raise such a passion of feeling! She found -herself from day to day leaning with infinite tenderness over -this woman, who had seemed so cold, but whose heart was -now revealed as a very volcano of repressed and seething -emotions. She was grateful and deeply touched that Doña -Isabel in her delirium clung to her fondly, calling her -“Mother,” or “Quina,” which Doña Carmen told her was -the name of a cousin she had dearly loved. Even after she -had recognized her when the delirium was past as the -daughter of Don Rafael, she seemed pleased to have her -there; though she said querulously, “It is strange you are -only a little country girl. But Feliz has good blood in her; -it has been transmitted to you,—there is nothing of Rita, -nothing of Rafael himself.”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>After that she made no further comment; but her eyes -often followed the movements of Chata with a puzzled expression -painful to see. One day after she had become -convalescent, Doña Carmen spoke of this. “Whom does -she remind you of?” she asked lightly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I cannot tell; I do not know,” Doña Isabel answered -wearily. “Perhaps it is of Chinita. Oh! I can think of -nothing but Chinita. Are they still looking for her, as I -have prayed,—as I have commanded?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Mother,” said Doña Carmen, solemnly, “who is Chinita? -Why should you care so much?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The face of Doña Isabel grew rigid. “Shall I tell you -what you have uttered in your delirium?” continued Doña -Carmen, looking fixedly into her mother’s eyes. “Shall I -ask you if you spoke the truth, or if what I have gathered—here -a word, there a word—is but a dreadful fancy? -Mother, Mother! if it is the truth, no wonder that the fate -of this girl is on your soul! No wonder Herlinda—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She paused affrighted. In her excitement she had said -far more than she had intended. What if her mother in her -delicate condition should sink beneath this cruel attack,—should -faint, should die? Carmen threw herself down -beside the couch with a prayer for forgiveness.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel in the first surprise had clasped her hands -over her heart. Slowly the pale hue of life returned to -her face. “Carmen,” she whispered faintly, “speak! -speak! After all these years, accusation—even from my -own child—is more bearable than silence. O my God, I -meant well!—it was for Herlinda’s sake. Yet what remorse, -what agony I have suffered!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The two women sank into each other’s arms. There -had ever been a barrier of reserve between them,—in a -moment it was swept away. Doña Isabel poured out her -heart. It was Carmen who withheld what might have been -revealed; a conviction seized her that there was much in -this strange family mystery yet undeclared, and of which -Doña Isabel knew nothing; and that her mother’s mind -was in no condition to be perplexed by further doubts -and complications. She left the room and went to her -husband.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chulita my beautiful one,” he said anxiously, as she -was about to leave him an hour later, “thou wilt do nothing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>rash? Yet I will not forbid thee. In truth, but that -robberies and abductions are so common upon the roads, -I would go with thee myself.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Not for the world!” exclaimed Doña Carmen in genuine -consternation. “They would seize thee and carry -thee into the mountains. But as for me,—I promise thee -no robber shall think me worth a second thought. But -hold thee ready,—the desire may come to her at a moment’s -thought, and I would not leave thee without warning; -I would not have thee unprepared.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_414'>414</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>With the same unreasoning fury with which he had denounced -Ramirez at the banquet, Ruiz had returned to -the camp of Gonzales; and through a cleverly managed -correspondence with Ramirez—in which however he -dared not mention the name of Chinita, lest he should -awaken in the astute mind of the General a suspicion that -his godson conjectured the deception which was to be -played upon him—Ruiz gradually drew from the chief -data through which to propose such movements to Gonzales -as procured for him as a strategist the respect and -admiration of that commander, which well might have -satisfied a laudable ambition.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Meanwhile Ramirez himself, though surrounded by no -despicable force, which was daily augmented by accessions -from the mountains or from the ranks of less popular -leaders of either party, was for the first time in his life -oppressed by a vague melancholy,—which, with some impatience, -he ascribed to the forced separation from the -child whose purity and innocence had so irresistibly attracted -him. There were times when he thought with -what horror such a record as his would be viewed by that -gentle and upright nature; and a positive dread came -upon him of her ever knowing the one incident that had -been so vividly recalled to him by the appearance of the -avenger upon the grave of the man he had murdered years -before,—one crime among many he had almost forgotten. -He said to himself that an evil spell had been upon him -ever since the day when he had foolishly thrown away the -charm the elf-like child had given him. His emissaries -had brought him word time and again of the miscarriage -of his best-laid plans. Who had betrayed them?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez knew too well who had frustrated them. The -American who had escaped his knife at the cemetery -seemed ubiquitous since obtaining the commission which -authorized him to wage war against his cousin’s murderer. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_415'>415</span>Not content with defending El Toro with unexampled -bravery, he appeared at every point where an advantage -was to be gained. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Carrhi!</span></i>” Ramirez said to himself, -“I shall be forced to give that fellow a thrust of my -dagger in secret, since he appears to be impervious to ball -and proof against the chances of open warfare. He or I -must fall. There’s not room in all Mexico for him and -me.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Whether there was room or not, it seemed destined that -they should remain in it together, though not without constant -collision. Gonzales became to the mind of Ramirez -far less formidable than this yellow-haired foreigner, who -with a mere handful of followers so constantly harassed -and baffled him. Like most men of his class, the mountain -chieftain was intensely superstitious, and one night -in the moonlight he saw, or fancied he saw, a female form -glide before him into the <a id='corr415.17'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='chapparal'>chaparral</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_415.17'><ins class='correction' title='chapparal'>chaparral</ins></a></span>. He caught but a -glimpse of the face, but it had reminded him of Herlinda, -for whom he had done the deed that, so late, seemed to -have brought upon him a threatened retribution. As he -searched the bushes for the woman, whom he could not -discover, he shuddered as he remembered the expression -of her eyes,—as of a wronged creature who had loved -and now hated. He had seen such an expression in a -woman’s eyes before. More than ever after this strange -occurrence the thought of Ashley Ward tormented him; -the young man’s face haunted him; and curiously enough -other faces also began to peer upon him,—faces of women -he had wronged, of men who with good cause bore him -deadly hatred, or of others whom, like the American, or -the gatekeeper, he had murdered.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez grew strangely taciturn and nervous. Not even -the letters of Ruiz aroused him. In his heart he distrusted -his godson, as he did all men but Reyes, all women -but Chata. Had she been near, he thought, he would -have talked to her and cast off his fancies; but in her -absence they grew upon him. One day he could have -sworn he saw clearly not only the face but the figure of -Pedro Gomez; and upon another, that of the woman he -had loved long years before. Bah! they were fantasies. -He wondered whether he too would be seized with the -fever, which was still raging at Tres Hermanos, and of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_416'>416</span>which they said its lady was dying at her daughter’s -house in Guanapila. Was this weakness of nerve the -presage of what was to come?</p> - -<p class='c001'>At last battle was joined with Gonzales as had been -planned. The day turned in favor of Ramirez; even the -gallant assistance of Ward availed little against the desperate -courage of the mountain troops. The genius and -valor of their leader were manifested with a vigor that -declared they had been but shaken, not broken. Until -the arrival of Ward it had even appeared that the forces -actually under the command of Ramirez would have been -sufficient to effect a victory; but Ward’s appearance -speedily turned the tide in favor of Gonzales, and with -some impatience Ramirez gave the signal that was to -hasten the promised action of Ruiz.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But at the critical moment the expected ally failed him. -With a vindictive fury which was demoniacal in its exhibition, -Ruiz threw himself against his old commander. -The carnage was terrible in that part of the field; and -when the fray was ended, the demoralization of Ramirez’s -troops was complete,—yet he himself had escaped.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That such should be the case seemed to Ashley Ward -incredible, as later he walked over the field seeking -among the slain the man against whom he had begun a -private warfare, which to his own surprise had, with -further investigation of the principles involved, rapidly -attained in his mind the dignity of a struggle for liberty -that even dwarfed the incentive of personal revenge, although -it was impossible that this should be wholly forgotten -or ignored.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales marched into El Toro amid the clanging of -bells and shouts of rejoicing; for though that was a convent -town, the people of the lower class were mad <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Juaristas</span></i>, -who did good service under Ward when troops were -scarce. The triumph had however not been gained without -much loss upon the Liberal side; and among the -missing was the young officer who in the eyes of Gonzales—and -to the astonishment of Ward—had so ably vindicated -his character as a stanch adherent in the day of -battle. Pepé too, the right-hand man of Ward, was gone.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In very truth, at the last moment the most important -and useful calculation of Ruiz had failed. He saw Ramirez, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_417'>417</span>by his orders, surrounded by desperate men; it -seemed inevitable that he must be stricken down,—when -a party led by Reyes broke through to his assistance, and -in the fury of the onslaught Ruiz himself was swept from -his horse and hurried away, and to his consternation found -himself a prisoner dragged onward in the irresistible -impetus of flight.</p> - -<p class='c001'>They were miles distant from the scene of battle when -the fugitives at last paused; and here for the first time -Ramirez knew of the special prisoner that had been -made. When his eyes fell upon the youth, a frown which -darkened as with a palpable cloud his already rigid and -pitiless face, overspread the countenance of Ramirez and -made it absolutely terrible. Even to fallen angels the -crime of ingratitude may seem the one damnable offence. -In Ruiz, remembering the love and favor he had shown -him, Ramirez held it so to be. This insignificant boy -had compassed his ruin; his life seemed too poor a forfeit -to condone the offence. The baffled, desperate, outraged -chieftain cursed the fate which had cast the treacherous -favorite into his power. But the terrible blackness of his -face still deepened, as he gazed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A lasso had been drawn tightly around the waist of -Ruiz. His face was cut and bleeding; the gold lace and -epaulettes had been torn from his coat; his uncovered -hair was filled with dust, and his face reeking with sweat. -He raised his bloodshot eyes appealingly. He knew the -man before him,—the man, worthless and unscrupulous -though he was, who had been kind to him, whom he had -betrayed, and whose death he had attempted to compass. -Ruiz did not attempt to speak, but fell on his knees and -raised his bound hands. Ramirez gazed at him a moment -in silence, then without the quiver of a muscle in his -impassive face uttered the sentence, “Let him be shot -at once!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Shot at <em>once</em>,—from that terrible mandate there was -no appeal. There was not one there to utter a word in the -traitor’s behalf, but only a moan from the dust to which -he had sunk. Reyes was not there; probably the result -would have been the same had he been. The soldiers -raised the young officer and stood him against a tree.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At the last moment that strange indifference to death, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_418'>418</span>which among his countrymen so often counterfeits courage, -caused Ruiz to straighten his figure and raise his -head; and in the insolence of despair he said to Ramirez, -with a glance of malignant contempt, “Had you fallen -into my hands I would have shot you with my own pistol -an hour ago.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Perhaps the still proud youth hoped by this speech to -escape the ignominy of execution by a file of common -soldiers. If so he was mistaken. Ramirez gave the signal; -the balls whizzed through the air and found their -way to their destined aim. Ruiz fell without a groan. -Ramirez himself, though still with an impassive face, to -the astonishment of all stooped and stretched the limbs -and crossed the hands of the young man upon his breast. -There was a spot of blood upon the face, and the chief -wiped it away as tenderly as a mother might lave the face -of her dead infant; and yet but a few moments before he -had commanded this youth to a violent death, and according -to the creed he held, his soul to purgatory without -benefit of clergy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Forgetting to give the expected order for the execution -of the other prisoners, Ramirez turned away. In -another moment he had placed himself at the head of the -party and continued the retreat. “At the next halt it can -be done as well,” remarked the lieutenant, philosophically. -“There are plenty of horses; bind the prisoners well and -bring them along.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>And thus for that day at least Pepé Ortiz among others -knew he had escaped a fate of which the very idea—with -the remembrance of Ruiz to intensify its horror—made -his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth and his knees -quiver with terror. Yet the day came when he, like the -traitor whose end he had witnessed, straightened himself -against a tree, and with apparent coolness awaited the -mandate of Ramirez that was to consign him to eternity; -naught but a miracle it seemed could save him. He -only begged a cigarette of a soldier, remarking that they -might be scarce where he was going,—secretly hoping -thus to hide the quiver of the lips which belied the bravado -of his words.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Shortly after this time, Chata to her surprise received -by the hand of an Indian fruitseller a brief note from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_419'>419</span>Ramirez. At the first reading its contents seemed hard -and indifferent. He spoke with an almost savage irony of -those who were driving him back like a wolf to his mountain -lairs. “I know of fastnesses, if I care to seek them, -where no foot but mine has ever trod, and where this accursed -American who is hunting me down like fate could -never hope to follow me,” he wrote. “But it shall never -be said that Ramirez fled from man or spirit, were it -Satan himself. After all, a man may not escape from -him who is destined to bring death to him. Ruiz was -marked to die by me. I loved him, yet his fate is -accomplished.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata shuddered. It seemed incredible that save by -accident such a thing could happen, so sacred is esteemed -by Mexicans the tie between sponsor and godchild; and -the tone of the letter impressed her as that of a desperate -man who was ready for unheard-of deeds. Had Ramirez -in truth deliberately destroyed the man whom for years he -had associated in his every hope and plan, to whom he -had promised the hand of his child? Deep indeed must -have been the villany that had merited such an end. The -sigh of relief which Chata involuntarily breathed, that she -was free from the possible accomplishment of the destiny -that had been marked out for her, was perhaps as sympathetic -as any caused by the death of Fernando Ruiz.</p> - -<p class='c001'>A reperusal of the letter gave to Chata’s mind an impression -of the longing, the stinging regret, the remorse which -the words had been designed to conceal rather than display. -The pride, the fierceness, the unconquerable will of -the writer pervaded them; yet the wail of a lost spirit crying -for the one good that it had known, and now believed -forfeited forever, seemed to echo through her soul. “He -loves me,” she thought remorsefully. “He believes himself -doomed to die, and that he will see me no more. -Oh! if it were possible I would go to him. Oh, if I dared -tell Doña Isabel!—but no, she would keep me from him; -she would mock my pain with the cry that this was but the -just recompense of the evil he had brought upon her long -ago. She believes her brother dead; why torture her by -telling her my miserable history?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata showed the letter to Doña Carmen, and she it was -who called the girl’s attention to some chance mention of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_420'>420</span>the name of the place where Ramirez said he might be -able to remain some days, even if closely pressed, for the -people there were secretly sworn to his support. Day -after day wild rumors flew through the city of the pursuit -of Ramirez, his capture, his death, only to be contradicted -upon the next. They did not seriously agitate Chata, for -not once was the name of the place he called his stronghold -mentioned.</p> - -<p class='c001'>One night the anxious girl had a vivid dream. She -dreamed she saw the chieftain and Chinita lying dead,—the -one on one side of a village street, the other on the -opposite. The people were rushing wildly about screaming -and gesticulating madly, while Doña Isabel, followed -by women clothed in black like herself, was in frenzy -passing from one to the other, uttering that low wail that -seems the very key-note of woe.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata woke with a stifled scream. The wind was blowing -shrilly through the trees and seemed to bring to her -a voice, which said, “Wake! oh wake, Chata! I have -dreamed of her.” The voice sounded close to her ear. -It came from Doña Isabel, who leaning over the dreamer’s -bed was repeating again and again the words, “I shall -find her. I have dreamed of her.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata raised herself upon the pillows and caught the -lady’s wasted hand. “Yes, yes,” continued Doña Isabel, -“I have dreamed of Chinita and of another,—one I loved -long years ago. I saw them together in Las Parras. It -is a revelation! Why have I not thought of it before? -No other place would be so fitting. I shall find her. I -am going now, now! My carriage, my horses, my men -must be here; I will call them. Tell my daughter when -she wakes; she will understand.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel turned to leave the room, her excitement -supplementing her returning strength; but Chata detained -her. “I too will go,” she cried. “Nothing shall prevent -me. Doña Carmen will not stop us,—she knows; she -dare not forbid me. I will tell her now. She will know -what is best for us. The carriage is still here, but—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata hastened from the room and wakened Doña Carmen. -“Ah,” said the daughter to herself, “the thought is -come, and the hour.” She hastily wrote a line to her husband, -who was absent at a hacienda he owned near the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_421'>421</span>city; provided herself with some rolls of gold, and presently -entered her mother’s room dressed in a somewhat -soiled cotton gown, and with her reboso over her arm. -Doña Isabel, who in the excitement of her thoughts was -walking hither and thither, taking up and putting down -articles of apparel, looked at her daughter blankly. Why, -she thought, had a servant come at that hour?</p> - -<p class='c001'>“See, I am ready,” cried Carmen, cheerfully. “The -diligence is to leave the city for the first time to-day. We -shall pass through the country quite safely. Who would -stop such poor creatures as we appear to be?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel looked at her daughter gratefully,—her -mind had been running helplessly upon carriages and -mounted escorts and all the paraphernalia of travel, which -require so much time and thought to prepare. “True, -true!” she said, “that will be best, oh much the best!” -In feverish haste she prepared herself for the journey as -Carmen had done, arraying herself in a plain dark dress -and reboso. But her daughter noticed that she did not -think of the expenses of the journey, and herself silently -assumed the direction of the little party.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Carmen led the way from her own house so quietly -that only the doorkeeper to whom she gave a few directions, -which he doubtless in his amazement straightway -forgot, was awakened. The three ladies were so humbly -dressed that they attracted but little notice at the diligence -house, and being hastily motioned to the poorest seats in -the coach were soon on their way. Covering their faces -with their rebosos, they did not so much as speak to -one another.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Some ten leagues from the city the diligence was stopped -by a half-dozen armed men. The male passengers were -ordered to lie down upon their faces, and were despoiled of -all their money and valuables. Chata to her extreme disgust—which -fortunately was disguised by her alarm—received -an amicable expression of approval from one of the -bandits, which was abruptly checked by the remark of the -captain that this was no time for fooling, as there was a -rival band but a half-mile farther on. The elder women -escaped remark. Happily, the other band did not present -itself, and the three ladies told their beads in devout -thankfulness.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_422'>422</span>That night the travellers remained at a miserable hut, -which served as an inn, feeling a certain protection in the -presence of an aged priest, who chanced to be awaiting -there an opportunity to proceed upon a long-interrupted -journey; and upon the following morning he formed one -of the travelling party. Beyond bestowing upon them his -blessing, he said nothing to them,—although somewhat to -her discomfort Doña Carmen noticed that he often turned -an inquiring gaze upon them. Early in the afternoon the -diligence stopped at a miserable village, the nearest point -at which, in the interrupted arrangements of travel, it approached -Las Parras; and having deposited Doña Isabel’s -party and the priest, diverged toward the north.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel looked around her helplessly, saying, “It -is nearly eight leagues to Las Parras. I have often been -here,—I know the road well. We shall never reach -there!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You will see, Mother, you will see,” answered Doña -Carmen, cheerfully; and greatly to the astonishment of -the priest and the women who stood near, she drew forth -a half-dozen ounces of gold, and held them up. “See,” -she said in her clear patrician voice, “you are good people -here; we are not afraid to trust you,”—her quick eye -had shown her there was not an able-bodied man in the -almost ruinous place. “We are not so poor as we look, -and I will give you all this for three, four—” she -glanced at the priest—“horses, donkeys, or mules, be -they ever so poor, upon which we can go our way.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The women laughed stupidly, and looked at one another -and then at the gold. Evidently if there was a beast of -burden in the village it was securely hidden, and though -the money tempted them they were afraid.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no,” said one at length. “Three weeks ago the -Señores Liberales drove off our last cow, and the week -after the Señores Conservadores slaughtered the turkeys, -and—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But we want neither cows nor turkeys,” interrupted -Carmen, impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Quite true; but the Señorita would have horses,” -answered the matron imperturbably; “and yesterday the -General Ramirez was here—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She paused as though it were unnecessary to say more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_423'>423</span>of the fate of their horses; and Doña Isabel, starting up -impetuously, hurriedly questioned the assembled gossips. -Upon the subject of the visit of Ramirez the villagers were -eloquent. He and his followers had reached there spent -with fatigue and long fasting. In a few moments the place -had been sacked of all its poor provision; there had not -been enough to give one poor ration to the half-dozen -prisoners who were with them. They would have been -shot—yes, upon the very spot upon which their graces were -standing—but for the prayers of a young girl, who seemed -to be the lieutenant’s wife; at least she was in his care,—and -Ramirez had admitted it could be done as well at the -next halt. She herself gave a drink of water to the poor -lads for the love of God, and also a tortilla to one among -them that she knew,—poor Pepé Ortiz; but he was too -weak to swallow it, and had given it to another less -wretched than he.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata began to cry softly, while Doña Isabel demanded -a description of the young girl who had been of the party. -This was vague enough; but insufficient as it was it made -the thought of further delay impossible,—and the eloquence -and gold of Doña Carmen, to which was added -the authority of the priest, presently induced the villagers -to produce four sorry beasts, upon which with some difficulty -the party were secured, for no saddles or panniers -were to be had. It was almost sunset when, following -the old stage-road, the already wearied travellers set out -upon their long and possibly perilous ride.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The women of the village stood for a long time with -arms akimbo, looking after the departing travellers. They -had divided the money among themselves,—they felt rich -and could afford to be pitiful. “The poor Señora has -perhaps lost a daughter,” said one—“doubtless the fair -girl who rode with the lieutenant. The Holy Mother -protect her, for the man was in two minds about taking -her farther; but the Señor General swore he would run -his sabre through him if he cast her off to starve in such -a hole. To starve, eh! One who has never lived in my -birthplace cannot know how well the pigs fatten here -when the tunas are ripe.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Pshaw! girls are fools, and not worth breaking one’s -head for,” said a second, whose only son kept her rich, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_424'>424</span>when well-laden travellers were plenty. “Where go they -now? They are turning toward Las Parras. They will -miss the soldiers, or I am no prophet.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“As a prophet one may give thee a thousand lashes, -for thou art ever at fault,” laughed a third. “But what -matters it to us where they go? The road is open to -them as to another. They should not go far wrong with a -holy little priest to guide them.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_425'>425</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLIV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>Upon the very morning that Doña Isabel and her companion -left Guanapila, news which might perhaps have -changed their movements had they heard of it flew like -wildfire over the city. The convents throughout Mexico -had been simultaneously opened under a decree of the -Liberal government, and thousands of women dedicated -to a cloistered life were thus set free to choose anew -their destiny.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Women who for half a century, perhaps, had lived -apart from life and love were returned to die amid the -turmoils of a home where love for them had ceased, or to -pass over seas to seclusion in strange lands. Others, in -whom voices as of demons were but just then ceasing to -tempt the memory with whispers of the world and its -alluring joys, saw those joys actually within their reach, -and with dismay sought to turn their eyes away, and -prayed for strength to brave the perils of the deep, and -bear the homesickness that in a strange country would -torment the soul of the cloistered nun as surely as if she -had been free to gaze upon the valleys and mountains of -the native land she was about to leave forever. Younger -women, those to whom the early years of seclusion had -brought but disenchantment, were cruelly roused from the -stupor of habit which was succeeding pain and presaging -content, and with secret regret now clung to the vows -they fain would have cast aside forever, or in a few—a -very few—cases became that shunned and despised -creature, a recreant nun. That night was the signal -for horror and tears throughout the land. A wail arose -from thousands of families, about to catch a glimpse -of their consecrated dear ones, and then to know them -banished forever. Such uprooting of ties, such griefs, -such domestic woes, are inevitable in all great national -or social revolutions.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_426'>426</span>A certain secrecy had been observed in the preparations -for and execution of this stroke of policy, which had indeed -been threatened and openly urged as a political necessity, -but which in spite of the exile of the archbishops and the -suppression of monasteries had been thought—even by -those who acknowledged its probable benefits to the nation—too -daring a measure ever to be carried into effect. -It had been thought a dream of the arch-iconoclast Juarez. -But he was a man whose dreams were apt to come true; -and so it happened upon this summer night, striking -admiration and consternation to the hearts of Liberals -and Conservatives alike, for there was scarce a family -of either party throughout Mexico that was not represented -in the vast religious houses which abounded in -every town. Into these, overcoming their superstitious -scruples, the populace for the first time now penetrated, -and learned something of the surroundings and consequent -life of those whom for centuries they had supported -as saints, dedicated to prayer and fasting for the sins -of the people. To their disenchantment and surprise, the -people found many of these gloomy piles filled with wide -and beautiful chambers, where flowers and musical instruments -stood side by side with the altar and <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">prie Dieu</span></i>, -and parlors and refectories which opened upon gardens -planted with the choicest and most luxuriant shrubs and -flowers. There were kitchens too where the choice conserves -were made which sometimes found a way to the -outer world, and where doubtless other savory dishes were -prepared for the saintly sisterhoods. In many of these -retreats each nun had her servant, who came and went -at her command, and life—if one may judge from the -inanimate things and the low whispers that sometimes -reached the outer air—was made a soft and sensuous -prelude to the celestial harmony of eternity.</p> - -<p class='c001'>But there were others—and they were many—where -the utmost austerity pictured by the devout secular mind -was practised; where entered the poor daughter, or she -whom the priests perceived had a true vocation, or a deep -and agonizing grief, which would keep her faithful to the -vows of poverty, of devotion, and obedience. There were -none of those amiable daughters of rich families too bountifully -supplied with girls, and for whom a dowry to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_427'>427</span>Church provided a safe and pleasant home, whence they -might easily glide through this life into another,—where -female angels would never be esteemed too plentiful,—but -where were only the poor, the sorrowful, the despairing; -and the well-filled vaults beneath the gloomy chapels -attested how rich a harvest death had gleaned in those -dreary abodes of penance.</p> - -<p class='c001'>For many days the officers in command at various points -had been in possession of orders,—which it is to be conjectured -were in many cases transmitted to the abbesses -of the principal nunneries, that they might take advantage -of this notice by quietly disbanding their sisterhoods and -sending each member to her own family, or in communities -to the United States or some transatlantic land. But the -opportunity for moral martyrdom was not to be destroyed -by a mere concession to convenience, and not in a single -case was the knowledge acted upon,—except perhaps that -in a few convents upon the designated night the nuns refrained -from repairing to their dormitories, but prepared for -exit, awaited the mandate praying in the lighted chapels; -and where this occurred, the mothers superior afterward -acquired reputations of special <a id='corr427.22'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='sancity'>sanctity</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_427.22'><ins class='correction' title='sancity'>sanctity</ins></a></span> for the supposed -spirit of prophecy which had moved them. But in the -majority of these establishments, so absolute was the belief -that the threatened invasion would never be attempted, -or if attempted would bring upon the intruders the instant -vengeance of the Almighty, that no change was made in -usual habits, and an outward composure was maintained, -which we may believe among the initiated at least disguised -many a beating heart filled with genuine horror, -or with a wild guilty anticipation from which it shrank -in remorse. The world! the world! With a turn of the -lock, with scarce more than a step, they would be in it; -and then—then!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Guanapila was not, strictly speaking, a convent city. -The few small retreats within it were vacated with so -little commotion that, except in the houses to which the -sisters were removed, nothing was known of the measure -until the following morning. But in the much smaller town -of El Toro there were whole streets lined on either side -with high, massive, and windowless walls which were the -façades of vast cloisters. It was with feelings of intense -<span class='pageno' id='Page_428'>428</span>though repressed excitement that Vicente Gonzales placed -himself at the head of a small force which was to demand -entrance to those formidable but peaceful structures, while -the mass of the troops remained at the citadel, ready upon -a signal to enforce his authority, whether questioned -by Church or people. It was true the populace had declared -itself Liberal in sentiment ever since the defeat of -Ramirez had left them under the guns of the <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Juaristas</span></i>; -but bred as they had been under the very shadow of these -colossal monuments of the Church it was not unlikely that -when their sanctity was threatened, the momentary conversion -of the citizens to patriotism might yield to zeal in -the defence of institutions that had appeared to them as -unassailable as the very heavens.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Vicente Gonzales might readily have sent another to -fulfil the dubious task before him,—in fact in most -cases men of dignity unconnected with the army were -chosen as peaceful ambassadors of the power that held -the sword; but the hour had arrived for which this man -had prayed and fought,—for which he would have prayed -and fought had no individual suffering added sharpness to -the sting of the thorn that for so long had tormented his -nation. He himself, he resolved, would execute the decree -that should sweep this great incubus from the land. Perchance -among the released he might find one whom he -had never consciously for one moment forgotten; he might -see her, if but for a moment, as she passed in the throng. -He had never ceased to see the yearning, despairing, yet -resolute expression upon the young face of Herlinda Garcia, -as amid clouds of incense it faded from his sight -behind the iron bars that separated her and her sister -nuns from the body of the church whence he had witnessed -her living entombment. That was in a city far -away; most likely she was there now. Yet there was a -chance,—a mere chance!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Strangely enough, Ashley Ward had never spoken the -name of Herlinda to Gonzales; nor had either mentioned -that of Chinita—an inexplicable yet differing motive -holding both silent. The rapid events of the war, which -had given full occupation to body and mind, had prevented -discussion of domestic matters, and there was something -in the reticence of Gonzales that forbade aught but deeply -<span class='pageno' id='Page_429'>429</span>serious investigation; and for the present Ward was -unprepared to attempt this. They were friends; but there -were deeps in the nature of each that the other made no -attempt to fathom. Upon this night Ward knew the -mind of Gonzales perhaps better than did the man himself; -and throughout the unwonted scenes of which he -was a mere passive spectator, to him the most engrossing -were the emotions that betrayed themselves upon the -countenance of the commanding officer.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As Ashley and Gonzales left their quarters together, -behind them followed closely a man in a sergeant’s uniform, -who halted painfully, and across whose face was a -livid scar. To those who had heard nothing of the torture -he had undergone, Pedro Gomez would have been -scarcely recognizable,—for besides the disfiguring scar, -there was an expression of vengeful and ferocious daring -where before had been but dogged obstinacy and a certain -rough kindliness; and to those who had believed him -dead, his appearance would have brought a superstitious -horror as that of one escaped from the torments of -the damned.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Besides these three, several officers and other gentlemen, -with a small guard of soldiers, passed out of the -citadel afoot, and at a short interval were followed by all -the available carriages of the town. What occurred thereafter -may perhaps be best described by a translation of -the chronicles of the time:—</p> - -<div class='quote'> - -<p class='c001'>“One night—one terrible night—a long and unusual -sound, a prolonged rumble, was heard in the streets. It -seemed shortly as if all the carriages in the city had become -mad, now rushing hither, now thither, waking from -sleep the peaceful neighborhood; so that each person -demanded of the other, ‘What is this?’ ‘What has happened?’ -and no one could answer with certainty the other.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“While the people wondered, the carriages stopped at -the doors of the nunneries, and the gentlemen charged with -the commission demanded entrance, and intimated to the -nuns the order to leave their cells and refrain from reuniting -in cloister.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘But, gentlemen, for God’s love!’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘How can this be?’</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_430'>430</span>“‘His will be done!’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘But where can we go? Oh, what iniquity!’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Such were the phrases that broke the startled stillness -of the cloisters. But the commissioners were deaf to all -appeals, merely rubbing their hands and saying,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“‘Let us go. Let us go on, Señoritas! We have no -time to lose!’</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Truly the time was limited,—that night only, for -perchance by day the gentlemen commissioners would -have had a distaste to penetrate the convents; or perhaps -only by night can certain mischievous deeds be carried -to the desired exit.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is said that some naughty novices upon hearing -themselves called señoritas forgot for an instant their grief, -and smiled. There did not lack also of those who had -entered the category of grave mothers who did the same! -And after all, was not this a venial and excusable fault? -Should not a girl, beautiful and fragrant as a jasmine, become -tired of hearing herself addressed every hour and -every day in the year as ‘Little Mother,’ ‘My Reverend -Mother,’ ‘How is your Reverence?’...</p> - -<p class='c001'>“This was an event which each one was obliged to -accept as she would, but none the less surely. ‘Came it -from God? Came it from Satan?’ By either it may -have come; but is it not true that Satan is—ourselves?”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='c001'>The party headed by Gonzales asked themselves no -such questions as these, but cautiously, swiftly, and effectively -did the work, which history might criticise. No -time was allowed the nuns for preparation. Even from -the richest convents few articles were carried away as -the nuns dispersed. Perhaps more previous preparation -than was suspected or afterward acknowledged had been -made; certain it is that the most magnificent and valuable -jewels had disappeared from the vestments of the virgins -and saints upon the altars. But as quickly as might be -the weeping and lamenting sisters were placed in carriages -and conveyed to houses ready to receive them; though -many in the confusion wandered out into the darkness -and rain afoot, and gave a pathetic chapter to the tale -of bloodless martyrdom. As one by one the convents -were vacated, the party passed on; until the smallest -<span class='pageno' id='Page_431'>431</span>and dreariest of those retreats, that which nestled beneath -the shadow of the parish church, was reached.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Throughout the work Gonzales had spoken only to give -the necessary orders. The measure that in itself had been -so dear to his soul was now in its actual execution repugnant -to him,—the tears, the sighs, the long processions -of black-robed and wailing women distressed his heart, -and filled him with shame and anger. As all this continued, -his face darkened and a profound melancholy -oppressed him. It was raining dismally. In other towns -doubtless the same scenes were being enacted. He turned -faint, his eyes filled as with blood. Even Ashley Ward, -amid the intense interests of the scenes around him,—the -views of those grand interiors lighted by the candles -borne by the retiring nuns, and the red glare of the -soldier’s torches,—felt the influence of the deep sadness -of this solemn exodus. The clouds of incense sickened -him, and through them the glorified Madonnas, the bleeding -Christs upon the altars, the troops of black-robed -nuns themselves, seemed alike beings of another world, -into which he had stepped unbidden. The light shone -upon rows and rows of white faces, which looked forth -from their wrappings like faces of dead saints. He -seemed to see each individual one. He was excited to -the utmost; the blood pulsed hotly through every vein, -yet a sense of keen disappointment chilled his heart, and -unconsciously to himself something of what he read upon -the faces of Gonzales and Pedro was reflected upon his -own. A profound quiet and solemnity fell upon the party, -as they passed the vestibule and penetrated the dim -recesses of the Convent of the Martyrs.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There the nuns were all gathered in the chapel, praying -and waiting, and the wail of the Miserere stole from the -great organ through the dim arches and bare cells. In -that place there was nothing of beauty, of grace, of sensuous -luxury. The stern austerities of an asceticism -scarce surpassed in mediæval days was found behind -those massive and windowless walls, which shut out the -light, material and moral, of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As the men entered the chapel, the nuns fell upon their -knees and covered their faces,—all except the abbess, -who remained standing to hear the mandate of expulsion.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_432'>432</span>“Blessed be God!” responded her deep, pathetic voice, -“Blessed be God in all his works! Sisters, let us go -hence;” and taking up the woful strains when the organ -ceased, with each nun adding to them the weird beauty of -her voice, the abbess led the way to the portal, and the -sisterhood passed into the bleak darkness of the unfamiliar -street.</p> - -<p class='c001'>By this time the wind was blowing,—a summer’s wind, -yet it pierced the bodies upon which for years no air of -heaven had blown,—and it was raining heavily. Fortunately -many vehicles had gathered at the curb, and ere -long the banished nuns were under shelter; and the work -of the night was accomplished.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley Ward, with other officers and gentlemen, had -busied himself in bestowing the poor ladies as rapidly and -commodiously as possible in the carriages, and as the last -one turned the corner of the great building, the soldiers -fell into line at the word of command; and in a few moments -he found himself alone. He discovered this when -he turned to speak to Gonzales. He was nowhere to be -seen, and Ashley remembered that when he had last seen -him it was at the chapel door, watching with pale and -anxious countenance the exit of the nuns.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales had been suffering from a recent wound. Had -the fatigue and exposure, and that deadly sickness of -crushed and dying hope overcome him? Ashley caught -up a torch, which was sputtering and about to expire on -the dripping pave, fanned for a moment its flame, and -then made his way back into the forsaken building.</p> - -<p class='c001'>He found Gonzales standing on the spot where he had -parted from him, and before him stood a man with a -flickering torch. Both were in an attitude of extreme -dejection; both started as Ashley’s footsteps broke the -stillness. Pedro—for the second man was he—led the -way into the outer darkness, and Gonzales, having in his -hand the heavy key which had been delivered by the abbess, -turned to lock the abandoned house. He paused -and looked to the right and left. The street was utterly -forsaken; the rain came in gusts, and it was with much -ado that Pedro, turning hither and thither, kept alive the -flame of the torch.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Once as he turned, the light fell full upon the face and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_433'>433</span>figure of Ward; and at the instant an exclamation of -incredulous joy, followed by a groan, fell upon their ears. -Gonzales dropped the key, and it rang sharply upon the -stones at his feet.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There is a woman here!” he ejaculated breathlessly. -Something in the tones had drawn the blood from his -heart. “Here! here! a light, Pedro, in God’s name!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The senses of Pedro were even more acute than those of -Gonzales and Ward. Not only had he heard the voice, -but he knew whose it was, and whence it had come. His -torch flashed upon an alcove of the deep wall; and there -ensconced they saw the sombre and meanly clad figure -of a nun. She had covered her face; her form shook -violently.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señorita,” said Gonzales, recovering himself and respectfully -approaching the woman, “forgive us that you -are left behind. We thought all had been provided for—all.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is I who would have it so,—I who promised myself -I would escape,” answered the nun, brokenly, yet with an -almost fierce intensity. “Have I not prayed and wept for -this hour? Could I let it pass? No, no! I lingered—I -fled—I could not, would not, go with them. They would -have dragged me with them across the seas—away—away -from her,—my child! my child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She uttered the last words almost in a scream, yet her -gaze followed Ward. “Who is he? who is he?” she -asked in a feverish whisper. “It is not my murdered -angel,—my love, my husband,—it is not he; and yet so -like! Oh my God, is it because thou hast forgiven me that -thou bringest this vision before me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales started back; gazed eagerly, rapturously at -the nun; then rushed to clasp the coarse folds of her -drapery. Pedro dropped at her feet. Ward alone uttered -her name,—“Herlinda!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales bent over her hand, uttering inarticulate words -of greeting. She scarcely seemed to hear them. “Vicente, -is it thou?” she said faintly. “But he, who is he?—the -man of the yellow hair, with the face that at prayer and at -penance, asleep and awake, has ever haunted me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda stepped nearer to Ward. Her lips were parted, -her eyes aflame; never in all his life before and never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_434'>434</span>again saw he a woman so beautiful as this one in the -unsightly garb, so coarse it grazed the skin where it -touched it. “No wonder,” he thought, “my cousin loved -her; he could have done no other, even had he known he -was doomed to die for her!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ah! the unhappy daughter of the haughty Garcias was -far more beautiful that night than ever John Ashley had -beheld her. Suffering first had refined, and now the -divine inspiration of hope illumined those perfect features. -Ashley Ward comprehended this; but Gonzales with horror -recalled her words, and thought her mad. “<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Maria -Sanctissima!</span></i>” she cried as the light flashed full on the -American, “I am forgiven, that I behold the living likeness -of his face.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ward bent before her, inexpressibly touched. He would -have spoken, but at this instant her eyes fell upon the -kneeling man at her feet. “It is Pedro,—yes, it is -Pedro,” Herlinda said in a low voice. “Perhaps he knows -of her,—yet, my God, he dares not look at me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Niña, Niña!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Speak, Pedro, speak! thou must know of her. Tell -me, was Feliz faithful? Is my child well, happy?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Merciful God, she is indeed mad!” interjected Gonzales. -“O Herlinda, know you not you never were married, -never had a child?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda turned on him a glance of mingled entreaty -and impatience, then raised her eyes piteously toward -heaven. “They said I was not married,” she moaned -brokenly; “but oh, I had a child,—and they took her -from me. Oh, if I could have died!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales turned from her with a groan. How bitter -was the revelation! Married! It could not have been! -And a child? Ah! he knew then why a convent had been -her doom.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In a broken voice Pedro began to speak. Ashley, with -the red glare of the torch he held falling full upon him, -seemed to Gonzales a mocking witness of the shame and -woe which from Herlinda were reflected upon him, the man -who loved her, had ever loved her; yet he felt instinctively -that the American had a right to hear, to judge, as well as -he. Ah, it was an American who—“An American!” he -gasped, and his hand touched the hilt of his sword.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_435'>435</span>“Niña, Niña!” Pedro was saying. “They brought the -child to me. Oh, the sweet child, with its soft, dark eyes,—oh, -the child with its ruddy curls! and I remembered all -that you had said, my Señorita. I watched over it, I -cherished it, it was my own!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Thine! thine!” cried the nun clasping her hands, and -in her excitement even thrusting him from her. “It could -not be! Oh Feliz, Feliz! thou couldst not be so false!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The tone of incredulity, of horror, in which she spoke -pierced Pedro to the quick; yet he answered humbly, “I -thought to please you, Niña, to keep her from those you -distrusted; and she was happy, oh quite happy, all through -her little childhood. You know one can be quite happy -playing in the free air.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The released nun burst into sudden tears. “Happy in -the free air! Oh yes, yes!” she cried. “Oh, if all -these years I could have begged even from door to door -with my child, even with the brand of shame upon me! -Oh the suffering, the suffering of these long, long desolate -years!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales stepped to her side, and placed her arm within -his own. “Thou shalt be desolate no more, Herlinda,” -he said, “thou betrayed angel of purity!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Betrayed, no!” cried Ashley Ward, looking up. “Deceived -perhaps they both were, but the man who was slain -as her betrayer believed himself her husband, as she believed -herself his wife,—as I believe now she most truly -was. Thank God I am here to champion their cause and -that of their child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales left Herlinda a moment to embrace Ward in -his southern fashion; then supporting her again listened to -what Pedro had to say.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The mother’s face grew whiter and whiter as the tale -proceeded. “That, <em>that</em> my child!” she murmured at intervals, -and her head sank lower and lower upon her breast. -Even Gonzales and Ward heard with amazement the story -of Chinita’s appearance at the cave where Pedro had lain -wounded. “What!” one cried, “has she not been all -this time in the house of Doña Carmen? Did you not tell -us that in a strange freak of impatience she had hastened -there?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It was you, Señores, who affirmed it must be she, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_436'>436</span>when you heard of the young girl who had been taken -there, from the Indian whom you captured as a spy of -Ramirez,” answered Pedro, with the humble cunning of the -true ranchero; “and why should your servant contradict -you, when Chinita herself had commanded otherwise—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And where in God’s name is she now?” demanded -Ward. “You know who I am. You know all this time I -could not have rested tranquil had I thought—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Have no anxiety, Señor,” answered the man with his -old sullenness. “And I swear to you, Niña, she is safe, -quite safe. She is with a woman who can guard her well. -She is gone to seek the man who murdered her father. Ah, -Niña, your daughter has the blood of the Garcia; she will -avenge you!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda sank with a moan. Ashley would have raised -her, but Gonzales motioned him back. There was a house -at a little distance where a widow and her daughters dwelt, -and thither he bore her.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was then at the middle hour between midnight and -dawn; and long before light, after a hurried consultation, -the three men met again before the widow’s door. All arrangements -had been made for the brief transfer of the -command of the troops. Gonzales, Ashley, and Pedro -acted as outriders for a strong military coach drawn by -four fleet mules. Into this stepped Herlinda and the -widow, both dressed as respectable gentlewomen; and before -the people of El Toro wakened from their deep sleep -that followed the excitement of the early night, the travellers -were far upon the road, and though the way was long -and rough were gaining fast upon the diligence which -bore Doña Isabel, her daughter, and Chata.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_437'>437</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>On the evening when Doña Isabel and her companions -set forth from the village upon their toilsome pilgrimage -to Las Parras, two women leaned against the gate-posts -at the entrance to the garden where the mistress of Tres -Hermanos and the mother of the administrador had parted -so many years before, and looked wearily along the silent -road. One would not have been surprised to hear that -during all these years no other mortal had approached the -place, for the air of neglect it had worn then had deepened -into that of utter abandonment. It looked not merely disused, -but actually shunned. The gate had fallen from its -hinges and lay broken upon the rank coarse grass and -weeds, which thrusting themselves between the bars filled -the paths. Thick clumps of cacti and stunted uncultivated -fruit and flowers, with manzanita and other common -shrubs of the country, had outgrown and outrooted the -feebler growths, and almost hid the low front of the solid -but dismantled building, upon which the iron-ribbed shutters -hung forlornly like broken armor on a battered image.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The sun and wind and rains had done their work unchecked -in all these years, aided by the revolution, which -had torn and scathed whatever had attracted its greedy -hand and then passed on, leaving desolation to continue -or repair the work of destruction. The vines, which had -at first served as a graceful drapery, hung so heavily on -every porch and wooden projection of the house that they -had broken down the frail supports, and added to the -general appearance of riot and disorder; while their -matted masses offered a defiant obstruction to any adventurous -comer. Yet these women had forced a way into -the dark and mouldy rooms, and found a certain pleasure -and security in their seemingly impenetrable and forbidding -aspect.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“We have been here three days,” said the younger, -who even in the declining light one might see was a mere -<span class='pageno' id='Page_438'>438</span>girl, while her companion, though small, was old in face -and figure,—not with the dignity of actual age, but with -a sort of lithe grace and abandon, which comes from years -of free and careless action. “We have been three days -waiting, yet he has not come! You may be mistaken. -How can you reckon upon what a man like Ramirez will -do? He is not like a blind man, always led by his dog -upon the same round.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Necessity and habit are the dogs that lead him,” said -the woman with a slight laugh. “Fortune is against him; -he has been beaten from every stronghold. I know this -is the hole he will creep into at last.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And the people here, they would save him?” said -Chinita, musingly. “He has ever spared them, ever protected -them, that he might have a safe refuge in time of -need. Here, here, but for us he would be safe?—but for -us, Dolores?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, he is not the first who does not find even nests -where he hoped to find birds,” answered the woman called -Dolores. “To-day he is laughing at the little troop of -Liberals patrolling these hills; he will make a way between -them. Yes, you will see; here, here, upon this -very road, we shall see him flash by like a meteor, and -then be lost. But my eyes can trace him; my hand will -be able to point the way he has gone.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The woman had unwittingly conjured up a vision that -thrilled the imagination of the listener. “Oh!” she cried -with a sudden gesture of repulsion and weariness, “I am -sick of this mean and miserable life. Would to God I -had gone to him as I vowed to do. Do not tell me he -would have laughed at my rage! No, no! a man could -not laugh at the girl who accused him of the murder of -her father; who stood before him to remind him of all -his secret and unnatural crimes! Ah, I cannot endure -this silent, creeping <a id='corr438.35'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='emnity'>enmity</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_438.35'><ins class='correction' title='emnity'>enmity</ins></a></span>. Three times already by -our means he has been tracked and driven from his -stronghold; once but for Pepé he would have been -killed,—Ruiz himself would have killed him!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Fox against tiger!” cried Dolores, contemptuously. -“Bah! the idiot might have known that with the smell -of blood in the air, not even the shadow of the cross -would save him if he fell into the hands of Ramirez; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_439'>439</span>yet he rushed on his fate. And for Ramirez there waits -for him a doom more just than death on the battlefield,—though -you, who warned Pepé to save him, are but a -faint-hearted weakling.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Would you have him die without knowing the revenge -that followed him?” cried Chinita. “What would death -alone be to such a man as he? It was you, yourself, who -first urged Pepé to leave us,—not that he might kill, but -if need were save, Ramirez.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“It is true,” answered Dolores, mollified; yet she fixed -upon Chinita a long and penetrating gaze, which seemed -to read her very soul. “But you are a strange, strange -creature,—a peasant for all your pride. He is still more -a grand gentleman to stare at with fear than a murderer -and robber to you.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita’s face turned white. The reproach of the woman -stung her, yet she felt it was just. “Oh, if I were a man!” -she presently muttered; “oh, if I were a man!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, the way would have been short then,” said Dolores. -“Just a knife-thrust, and the debt would have -been paid. But the revenge of women can be a thousand -times more deep, more sweet, if one has the patience to -wait.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Patience!” exclaimed Chinita in that shrill, metallic -voice that indicates a mental tension so violent and long -continued that every chord of the nervous system vibrates -painfully at a word. “Have I not had patience? -Have I not waited at your bidding until I seem to live in -a frenzy of fear lest he should escape, and never hear, -never see me, never know who I am? And what have I -gained? Ruiz is dead; Pepé perhaps is dead. Ah, if I -had spoken! Had Ramirez known that I live, it might -have saved them both!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The woman’s answering laugh had more of scorn than -mirth in it. “Be quiet, child!” she said. “You are -young. You think Ramirez has a conscience, and that -you would have roused it to torment him. Pshaw! I will -arm you with a better weapon; a little patience—perhaps -to-morrow—and you will see!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Mysteries! always mysteries!” exclaimed Chinita, -with increased impatience. “<i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Santa Maria!</span></i> why do you -not push back that black kerchief from your brows? -<span class='pageno' id='Page_440'>440</span>Have you the mark of a jealous woman’s knife across -your forehead? Is your hair white, or—or—” She -paused, with a horrid suspicion flashing through her mind. -Was this woman, with whom she had daily and nightly -associated for weeks, a victim of that species of leprosy -known as the “painted”? Was some dread trace of it to -be seen upon that constantly covered head? Dolores with -careless grace had raised and clasped her hands above -the unsightly kerchief. The bared arms were clear and -fair; only the deep-lined face they encircled looked old, -but care, not disease, had marked it. She looked at -Chinita through the growing dusk with an inscrutable expression -in her almond-shaped and beautiful eyes. They -were eyes that still might fascinate at will. Chinita drew a -little nearer to her, and sighed deeply. There was a sense -of guilt upon the girl’s mind since she had heard of the -death of Ruiz; a sickening apprehension, too, for the fate -of Pepé Ortiz.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Dolores read her thoughts. She dropped one hand -from her head upon the young girl’s shoulder. There -seemed something magnetic in the touch. Chinita, though -she would rather have resisted, yielded to it,—like a nettle -grasped in a strong hand. “Silly one,” said the -woman soothingly, “fret not yourself for Ruiz. Ramirez -knew him better than did you. He had had long years to -con the lesson in. It is well for the weak defenceless -creatures of the earth that these wild beasts attack and -destroy one another!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita looked unconvinced. In spite of doubts, she -had had a certain pride and solace in the belief that Ruiz -would prove true to Ramirez,—true through his love for -her. She had purposely left him ignorant of the change -in her own views and feelings in regard to Ramirez that -he might be free to act upon his own impulses and convictions. -She knew not what she would have had him do, -yet all the same he had disappointed her. She had no -clews to the motives of Ruiz, other than those Dolores -suggested to her, and there was an uncertainty and vagueness -overhanging him which made him in her eyes a victim -to his love for her, and a fresh cause for accusation of the -man who seemed destined utterly to bereave and despoil -her. Strangely enough, in her wildest excitement Chinita -<span class='pageno' id='Page_441'>441</span>had never formulated for herself any definite mode of action -when she should see Ramirez,—as see him, accuse, -defy him she would! There had been a conviction in her -mind that in her the ghosts of the innocent he had slain, -the shame,—which with strange perversity he had shrunk -from when it menaced his family pride in the person of -Herlinda Garcia,—the contempt and hatred of his wronged -sister, would all rise to confront and overwhelm him. That -which should follow, time, circumstance would determine; -but that the wild fever of her passion would be satisfied -she would not doubt. She had longed with an ever increasing -excitement to find herself before Ramirez, and to -pour forth her wrongs in burning words. Yet this woman -Dolores, with a fascination even greater than the unconscious -one that Ramirez himself had exerted over her, had -withheld her from her purpose, had even led her to gain -the secrets of the chieftain’s plans from his most trusted -confidants,—the young girl reddened with shame and -anger, yet with flattered vanity, when she remembered -that the sight of her beauty had been more potent than -the gold of Dolores. Chinita had not guessed that she had -been purposely employed to act the part of a spy, and had -resented deeply the fact that her discoveries had more -than once been transmitted to Gonzales, and that her revenge -was supposed to be gratified by the consequent defeat -which had overcome Ramirez. Her longing was for -a more dramatic, more direct revenge. Pedro and Dolores -could plot and scheme for the silent overthrow of him who -had wronged them; they gloried in their astuteness that -made him an unsuspicious victim, while Chinita writhed -under it, and only the promise that in Las Parras she -should accuse Ramirez face to face had made endurable -to her the life of secret intrigue and absolute disguise and -constant change that she had led for weeks. The element -of peril, it is true, had stimulated her adventurous spirit; -but she would fain have been in the midst, not hovering a -ready fugitive upon the edge of the fray.</p> - -<p class='c001'>When weeks before Chinita had, after her faintness, -opened her eyes in the low, rocky cave in which Pedro -lay, it had been to find him an almost unrecognizable -mass of wounds and bruises, lying on a sheepskin pallet, -gazing at her with wide-distended eyes, and ejaculating -<span class='pageno' id='Page_442'>442</span>in tones of dismay, mingled with incredulous delight, -“What have I done? Oh God! is it possible that she -has come to me,—the miserable, dying Pedro?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, yes, Pedro, I am here!” she <a id='corr442.4'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='cried'>cried,</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_442.4'><ins class='correction' title='cried'>cried,</ins></a></span> staggering -to her feet. “Ah, the American thought I had forgotten -thee; but thou wert in my heart all the time that he -talked. Ah, though I am of other blood, it is thou that -hast saved me! They would have thrust me out to die. -I will cling to thee while thou livest; I will avenge thee -when thou diest!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hush!” muttered Pedro faintly, as she stooped and -kissed his hand, bedewing it with her tears. “Ah, I -shall not die, now you have come. Did I not tell you,” -he asked, turning to a figure beside Chinita, “that I -should live if I could know she loved me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And this is the girl you have nurtured?” asked the -stifled voice of a woman. She was not as tall as Chinita, -and she held a candle up close to the face of the girl to -look at her. Chinita was spent with fatigue; moreover -there were tears on her face, and she resented the inspection, -pushing away the woman’s hand rudely. Yet -it was not that of a servant, nor of a woman of the lower -class. Even in the excitement of the moment Chinita -was conscious of wondering who and what this person -was. How came she there in the cave among these -fugitives?</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But for her I should have been dead already,” Pedro -was saying. “She has wondrous skill and knowledge of -surgery and herbs. But,” he added, in a low, apologetic -voice, “she knows all. I have talked in my delirium. I -could not help it. You will pardon me,—if I die you will -pardon me?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I have nothing to pardon!” cried Chinita. “What! -you think because my mother lives I would hide her name? -No, no! I have endured enough for her cowardice and the -shame of Doña Isabel. No, no! let me but see Ramirez,—this -Leon Vallé,—and though it be before all the world, -I will declare who I am. The American, Ashley Ward, -says he will claim me as his cousin. Pepé must ride and -tell him I am here, and we will have vengeance together -for the cruel deeds of Ramirez. You shall be avenged, -Pedro, you shall be avenged!”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_443'>443</span>The sick man’s eyes glistened. As she spoke, Chinita’s -face had glowed with an unrelenting and cruel intensity -of purpose. The woman at her side had never once removed -her eyes from her. No one was noticing her; had -they done so, they would have beheld an extraordinary -series of changes pass over her dark but mobile face,—suspicion, -delight, doubt, alarm, conviction. Suddenly -she seized Chinita’s hand, and pressed it to her heart; it -was beating so tumultuously that the young girl drew back -startled. The woman thrust her hands under the loose -folds of the black kerchief that draped her head with a -sombre yet Oriental grace, then withdrawing them caught -a stray lock of Chinita’s hair, and burst into a long, low, -triumphant laugh.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita drew herself away, alarmed and offended. Pepé -had come in; and looking at her anxiously he said, “Nina, -do not mind her. Esteban tells me she is a mad woman; -yet she does no harm. She does not know what she talks -of, and one moment denies what she has said at another. -It would not be strange if she should tell you some dreadful -tale, and afterward laugh, and say grief had made -her mad!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And so it has,” cried the woman. “Ah yes, I have -been mad; but that is past. Yes, yes. Life of my soul,” -turning to Chinita, “how beautiful thou art! And the hair, -it is a miracle! In all the world there should be no other -with such hair. Thou hast had good fortune, Pedro, to -bring up such a child. She is an angel. Ah, it is as if I -had seen her all my life! And thou hast a spirit to match -thy face,” she added turning again to Chinita. “Thou -canst not brook a wrong. Well, well! we will make -common cause; and some day—soon, soon we will stand -together before Leon Vallé with such a tale, such a revenge, -that even he will sink before it. To think that after all -these years, I shall turn against him the dagger with which -he has pierced me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Who are you? What do you know of me?” cried -Chinita, shuddering, though she understood that the -weapon of which the stranger spoke was no material tool. -“Why should you join with me, or I with you? No, no; -when Pedro is able, we will go away, you your way, -and I mine!”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_444'>444</span>“Our ways lie together!” cried the woman, excitedly. -“The one without the other would fail. Oh! you think -me mad, but I am not. I could tell you things,—but no, -I will wait; perhaps thou hast not even heard of me. -Ah! how many years is it since I disappeared from the -world, that I have been forgotten?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro raised himself upon his elbow painfully, and gazed -at her with a long and eager scrutiny. “I know you now,” -he said, “though I never saw you but once, and then -you were beautiful as the Holy Madonna on the high -altar at Pueblo.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes,” she interrupted; “I am Dolores, whom Vallé -loved. Ah, you think that strange, because my beauty is -gone, and I am old, and like a witch, living in this murky -cave! Where else should I go—I, whom he stole away -and betrayed, and despoiled and forsook?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But you are rich,” said Pepé in wonder, and in a tone -that seemed to condone the rest.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Rich!” she said scornfully. “Rich! yes, for such -needs as mine. Rich! he used to give me jewels a queen -might have been proud of. He thought I wasted, lost, -destroyed them, as he would have done, but I kept them,—kept -them for my child. Ah, I knew she would be beautiful, -would be worthy of the rarest and costliest I could -give her. Ah, I would give her jewels! such jewels as -would buy her love, were she as capricious, as hard, as -Ramirez himself.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita drew back from her, with a certain hauteur, a -certain loathing upon her face. “I have heard of you,” -she said coldly. “You chose your lot. If you have -wrongs, they can be nothing to mine. See”—and she -pointed to Pedro—“what Ramirez has done but now; -while but for his murderous knife my father would have -lived, and my mother would not have been obliged to -hide her disgraced head in a convent, and I should not -have been left a pauper at the gate of my mother’s house.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“There can be no wrongs greater than these?” said -the woman half interrogatively, half affirmatively. “Yet -listen! He stole me away from my husband; I swear I -did not go willingly, though I loved him,—oh my God, -how I loved him! For him I died to the world. I forsook -the father who was dear to me as life. I lived a life of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_445'>445</span>infamy, hiding in obscure villages, in mountain huts, in -caves when need were. I bore him children; but they -died,—all died as though there was a curse upon them. -That angered him; then he grew cold, then false and -cruel. One day a captive was brought into the camp for -ransom,—a captive he himself had made. He sent to me -to look at the man and to set a price upon his head. I -went, as he told me, in gay attire, with jewels blazing on -my arms and neck, a diadem upon my head. When the -prisoner looked up and saw me, with the price of my -shame as he thought upon me, he staggered, gasped, and -fell down dead. He was my father. My senses fled, yet -when another child was born they returned to me. She -was strong and beautiful. I clasped my treasure; but my -heart burned against her father. I swore I would leave -him, that I would hide the child where he never should -discover her. Fool! fool! that I was! When I woke -next day, for in my weakness I slept, the babe was gone,—dead -they told me; gone too the pretty clothing I had -made, the little trinkets I had placed about her neck. -But the blessed prayers I had bought from the holy -nuns of La Piedad were not in vain! No, no! wretch, -demon, that he was!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita’s heart beat suffocatingly. “What! you think -the child was still living?” she said.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I know it! I know it!” cried Dolores. “I feel it -here,—here in my heart, which beats for her. And sometime, -when I find that child, if I do find her, think you she -will love me? Think you she will hate her father as I do? -Think you she will avenge my wrongs and hers?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“But if he loved her,” said Chinita; “if he meant to -separate her from—from such a woman as you had been! -Oh, I know you have suffered, that you have reason for -vengeance; but—” she cried hysterically, striking her -hands together, terribly moved, she knew not why. The -strange woman broke into sobs, piteous to hear. Chinita -clasped her hands. “But you would not have her—your -child—his child—hate the man you loved?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Hate him!” echoed Dolores. “I would have her -hate him with such hate as she would bear toward the -fiends of hell. I would have her know him as you know -him,—the insatiable monster who wrecked the happiness of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_446'>446</span>a sister too fond, even when most foully wronged, to seize -the vengeance that was within her grasp. Ah, Doña -Isabel it was who set him free to murder, to betray, to -wrench the child from its maddened mother, and cast it -out by the first rude and careless hand that would do his -will! My God! were you his child could you have pity? -Would you not feel your wrongs,—the wrongs of the -mother who bore you?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Dolores spoke with the wild excitement of one who for -years had brooded on this theme. Chinita herself seemed -to be struggling with some fantasy of a disordered brain. -The woman actually glared upon her, as if on her reply -hung her destiny. Overcome by the unexpected demand -upon her sympathy,—a demand that the peculiar circumstances -of her life made irresistibly impressive,—Chinita -shrank with horror at the tumult of emotion which -revealed to her mind the possibilities of her own passionate -nature.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Tell me no more! Ask me no more!” she cried. -“Ah, if I were his daughter! But no, I am the daughter -of Herlinda Garcia, and of the man he murdered in secret. -Yes, I will seek Ramirez out. I—I—O God! I know -not what I will do, but I will have justice! revenge! -revenge!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The girl ended with a scream, and fell down, burying -her head on Pedro’s shoulder. The wounded man, his -ghastly face pressed close against her twining hair, looked -appealingly to the excited woman who stood over them. -There was scorn, rage, intense offence upon her face; but -slowly they died out, and she turned away with the weary -air of one in whom some periodic excess of passion or -madness had wrought its work and brought its consequent -exhaustion. A half hour later she brought the girl some -food, wonderfully dainty for the place and its resources, -and gently fed and soothed her. Pepé and Pedro looked -on wonderingly. All that had been said had passed so -quickly that they had not realized that aught of consequence -had happened; but in the quiescent attitude of -Chinita, and the strange calm that had fallen upon the excited -and erratic woman, they instinctively felt that a new -phase of life had begun for them. A new spirit was in -future to lead and rule them; and it dwelt in the frame of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_447'>447</span>this half-crazed woman, who had declared herself mistress -of the cave. The men thenceforth seemed led by a spell; -and to the same spell Chinita gradually succumbed.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This had been the first meeting of Chinita with the -woman who stood talking with her nearly two months -later at the garden gate of Las Parras. They had left the -cave weeks before,—Pepé and Pedro, the latter still -bruised and maimed, to join the troops of Gonzales; and -Chinita, unable to resist the influence of Dolores, followed -rebelliously with swift and unerring movement the fortunes -of Ramirez. By what arguments Pedro had been won -to consent to separate from his foster-child, and to maintain -silence concerning her to Ashley, can be but guessed; -though certain it is that Chinita on her part reminded him -of the promise he had made Herlinda to protect her child -from Doña Isabel, to whose care she justly suspected -Ashley Ward would strive to return her. Meanwhile -Dolores adroitly fostered in the girl’s mind that hope of a -peculiar and swift revenge, which was to satisfy at once -the many wrongs that in those diverse lives were clamorous -for justice; while an intense anticipation urged the -gatekeeper to hasten without delay to join the Liberal -army,—the anticipation of that event which presented to -his mind such wondrous possibilities. The convents once -opened, would Herlinda claim her child? Would she -by some strange miracle confront Leon Vallé and her -proud mother with the proof of that which Ashley Ward -had in spite of adverse law and custom declared still possible,—the -proof of her marriage with the American who -had been slain without accusation, without the possibility -of defence?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro could not reason; he could but doggedly wait, -and guard with silent fidelity and ferocity the charge that -had been given him. That a superior intelligence, an undeclared -authority potent as an armed power, had for a -time wrested Chinita from him, made him only the more -tenacious when once again he held her in his grasp. His -foster-child while in the mountains with the woman whose -life was bound in the same interests, the same mysteries, -as her own, was safe from the possibilities of removal -from his cognizance.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro was asked no questions which he cared not to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_448'>448</span>answer, when he presented himself among the Liberal -forces. Ashley, tranquil in the belief that Chinita was -with Doña Carmen in Guanapila, avoided more than -casual mention of her name; and Pedro jealously guarded -his secret, and patiently waited the moment he superstitiously -believed would come,—the moment which, when -it did come, gave him the sharpest sting he had ever -known in his stoical existence; when Herlinda Garcia -cried in uncontrollable horror and dismay, “What! you,—<em>you</em> -have brought up my child? She was given to -<em>you</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>On the journey from El Toro there was but one thought -in the mind of him who had served with such blind faithfulness. -For the first time a doubt tormented him. -“Would the beautiful, uncontrollable idol of his heart satisfy -the longing—the years of longing—of the woman -who freed from her bonds was hastening to claim her -daughter and acknowledge her before the world?” As -the hours passed, Pedro shunned the eyes of Herlinda, -though they looked upon him with a grateful affection -that should have been at once an invitation to confidence -and a recompense of his long fidelity. Yet with -the remembrance of Chinita ever before him, the glance -of Herlinda seemed that of accusation and reproof. Her -words rang like a knell in his heart. He, who knew -the vices and virtues of the two castes which he and the -still beautiful woman represented, knew that like oil and -water they were irreconcilable, and understood the full -significance of that involuntary cry, “What! <em>you</em>,—<em>you</em> -have brought up <em>my</em> child?”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_449'>449</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLVI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>A league or less from the village of Las Parras there -stood—and perhaps still stands—a small chapel, built, -no one knows in fulfilment of what pious vow, at the -entrance to a mountain pass of the roughest and most -dangerous sort alike from the forces of Nature and of -humanity. Likely enough some rich hidalgo, escaping -from brigands, raised here the humble pile, and vowed -that the lamp should ever burn before the Virgin and -her blessed Child. But through the long years of war, -as a pious ranchera had said in holy horror, the blessed -Babe had remained in darkness. But some time after midnight, -one rainy night, a sudden flash of flame lighted up -not only the dingy altar but the whole of the small mouldy -interior of the chapel, and a scene was revealed which a -passing monk might have viewed with reverence, so nearly -must it have copied one that may have been common -enough when Joseph and Mary journeyed to Jerusalem, -eighteen hundred years and more ago.</p> - -<p class='c001'>This thought indeed entered the mind of a man who -riding through the drizzling rain caught a glimpse of the -unusual light through the unguarded doorway, and reining -his horse gazed curiously in. At first the place seemed to -him full of women and jaded beasts; then he saw there -were but four of each, and that one of the human creatures -was a man,—a priest. The women,—good heavens! they -were the Señora Doña Isabel Garcia, and the girl whom -he had once seen under circumstances almost as extraordinary,—she -whom he knew as the daughter of Ramirez -and the foster-child of Don Rafael. Of the other woman -he scarcely thought, yet he instinctively guessed she was -Doña Carmen. Ashley Ward looked round in bewilderment. -Only that day some definite account of what had -occurred at Tres Hermanos had reached him, told by a -man who had been with the administrador and his mother -<span class='pageno' id='Page_450'>450</span>in their vain endeavors to trace the girl who had been so -boldly spirited away. The search had been long delayed -because of the illness of Doña Feliz; but once begun, -it had been prosecuted with untiring zeal. Not a village, -scarce a hut throughout that region had been unvisited, -yet all in vain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley had heard the tale with deepest sympathy. Oh -inconceivable obtuseness! that it had not once occurred to -him or to Gonzales that the girl of whom they had heard -as sojourning with Doña Carmen, and whom he had believed -to be Chinita, might prove to be her vanished playmate,—simply -because the remembrance of the house of -Doña Carmen had slipped from their minds when their -supposed knowledge of the movements of Chinita made -Doña Carmen’s young guest no longer an object of interest -to them, simply because the means adopted by Ramirez -for the security of Chata would never have suggested -themselves to minds less daring, less original than his -own. Ashley Ward turned from the doorway dazed. The -presence of these personages in such a place, at such a -time, seemed unreal, bewildering, ominous.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Upon the heavy sand the horse that Ashley rode had -made so little noise that it had not roused the miserable -travellers as they cowered wet and shivering around the -sputtering fire, upon which the priest with unhesitating -hands threw some dry portion of a wooden railing and -the broad cover of a sacred book of music. Vain sacrifice! -for being of parchment it but curled and blackened, yet -would not burn any more than would the bare stone floor -upon which the welcome embers lay.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Turning back a few paces Ward encountered the carriage -he had accompanied thither. With bowed heads, -endeavoring thus to shelter their faces from the mist, -General Gonzales and the servant Pedro rode, one on -either side of the heavy travelling carriage. Just as -Ward appeared they caught sight of the light. The -coachman and his helper, half dead as they were from -want of sleep, saw it too, and all the mules were stopped -as though transfixed. The men began to mumble prayers, -crossing themselves with unction. Gonzales, following -his habit of caution as well as the motion of Ward, rode -softly forward to reconnoitre.</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_451'>451</span>Before the occupants of the carriage had time to question -the meaning of the stoppage, Gonzales had returned. -His face was white with excitement as he dismounted -and opened the door of the vehicle.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señorita,” he said in a voice that shook from suppressed -emotion, “a wonderful thing has happened!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda leaned eagerly forward. She caught the gleam -of the light and the grim outline of the chapel against the -leaden sky. “Is my child—Leon, my uncle—here?” -she gasped.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“No, no! that would not be so strange; we may perhaps -at any moment encounter them. But your mother, -your sister,—they are in yonder church, drenched, -wretched; travellers seemingly more anxious, more eager -than ourselves. From a word I heard, they too seek—your -child.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Gonzales spoke the last two words with evident difficulty -and repugnance. Herlinda did not notice that. -She scarce had heard more than the words, “Your -mother, your sister.” In trembling haste she descended -from the carriage. Instinctively she clasped the arm of -Ashley Ward to support her through the inequalities of -the roadway; and followed by Gonzales and Pedro, who -had dismounted, she sped with surprising fleetness to the -open door of the chapel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>At the sound of approaching footsteps, those within -sprang to their feet in terror. Even the brutes hurtled -together within the very rail of the altar, leaving free the -space between the fire and the low arch beneath which the -intruders stood. The women stood panting, their hands -clasped upon their hearts, their lips parted, their eyes -staring wildly. Doña Isabel was foremost. She first saw -as in a vision her daughter, whom she believed still within -convent walls, supported by the arm of the American. -She sank upon her knees; her tongue clave to the roof -of her mouth.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Mother,” said Herlinda in a voice which gave conviction -of the reality of her presence, “I am no ghost. -The convents have been opened,—I am free. Where -is my daughter? You took her from me,—give her back -to me. My child! my child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She advanced into the chapel with a gesture so earnest, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_452'>452</span>so impassioned, that it seemed that of concentrated power -and anguish combined.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel bowed her head on her hand. Under the -red light of the fire her form seemed to shrink and wither.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Have mercy! oh, Herlinda, have mercy!” she moaned. -“Your child is not here. I am seeking her, oh with what -grief, what anguish! Ah, my God, it is true,—all, all -that you can say to me!” She raised her eyes and they -fell upon Gonzales. “I thought to save your honor and -mine. That there still might be love and joy for you, I -gave the child to Feliz to do with as she would. I did -not think, I could not think—”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Cruel, cruel mother!” cried Herlinda, “and false -Feliz! Oh, what reproaches will be bitter enough, sharp -enough, to heap upon her! She promised me she would -love my child, care for it, protect it,—yes, even from you, -unnatural mother that you were! Yet together you have -degraded, perhaps brought about the ruin of, my child! -I have been shut in from all the world,—and yet I am not -the weak girl I was. No, the heart and brain of a woman -grow even in utter darkness. You had no right to thrust -my child away. No, she was mine,—come disgrace, -come scorn, what would, she was mine. You tore her -from me,—give her back to me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>While this extraordinary scene took place, Chata with -indescribable emotion recognized the pale impulsive face -of the nun of El Toro,—so pale still, so worn, yet so -strangely young, and lighted by the intense and resolute -spirit of a wronged and noble woman.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Yes, give me back my child!” reiterated Herlinda. -“Ah, Mother, I read your heart; I know now better than I -did then your motives for utterly ignoring, utterly denying -my connection with the American. Your brother killed -him: it was to shelter him, Leon Vallé, as much as to -hide what you believed my shame, that you tore my baby -from me. You resolved that there should be neither wonder -nor question that could incriminate your idol. Oh, a -sister’s love, a sister’s sacrifice is beautiful; but where in -all the world before has it been stronger, more prescient -than that of the mother for her child?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel raised her hands above her head as though -to ward off some crushing blow. Carmen rushed forward -<span class='pageno' id='Page_453'>453</span>and caught her sister’s hand. “Herlinda,” she cried, “say -no more. I am your sister—I am Carmen! Oh, I have -always known there was a mystery; yet I have loved -you, believed you true, believed you pure. You were -almost a child,—you knew not the evil!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I was not a child!” returned Herlinda, proudly, yet -clasping her sister with a grateful joy. “For all my -trusting love I would not have stooped to sin. I was married. -Yes,” she added defiantly, “though all the world -deny it, I was married. God grant that I may one day -stand before my husband’s murderer,—oh, with that word -I will overwhelm him. What! he, the ravisher, the assassin, -think to avenge <em>my</em> honor!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The form of the excited woman dilated as she spoke. -Through the dim chapel her voice pealed with a ring of -purity and truth, more clear than the tone of silver bells. -There was a clamor of answering voices. Even the priest -started forward, but Chata caught his flowing gown and -whispered him in broken accents,—</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh, for the pity of God hide me. Let her not see me! -Oh, this is too terrible, too terrible!” She shook with -dread. “Madre Sanctissima, it will kill me if her eyes -fall upon me! I am the daughter of the man she seeks. -O Virgin of Succors, pity me!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The burly person of the priest supported and sheltered -the stricken and trembling girl. “Courage, courage!” he -whispered. “Thou shalt plead for him. For thy sake she -will forego the claims of justice,—she will forgive!” He -naturally attributed her emotion to apprehensions for her -father’s fate. “Yes, even I will plead with her.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But in the brief space of this interference there had been -a movement at the door, and a strange voice was heard. -Gonzales—who throughout had stood just back of Herlinda, -chafing that he was not at her side, for he would -have championed her before the world—disappeared for -a moment; then returning, strode forward to the fire and -raised Doña Isabel with a not unkindly though imperious -hand.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señora,” he said, “I have this moment heard news -of Ramirez, brought by an escaped prisoner, one of your -own men, Pepé Ortiz by name. As we suspected, the -defeated and desperate chief is on his way to, perhaps has -<span class='pageno' id='Page_454'>454</span>entered, Las Parras. There is no time to be lost. With -him—accusing him, for such was her mad purpose—we -may find your daughter’s child. Oh, would to God,” he -added with fervor, “I had known this horrible blight upon -Herlinda’s young life! I would have sheltered, I would -have sustained her. I would have appealed to Rome.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel looked at Gonzales in a dazed way, slightly -swaying as she stood. “Thou wert ever noble, ever -true,” she said dreamily. “Thou lovedst her. But Leon? -She spoke of Leon. Then it is true! He did indeed murder -the American. But he is dead; he is dead.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The mind of the poor lady seemed wandering. She -stood looking about her with an awful smile. Gonzales -saw that she did not connect the name of Ramirez with -her brother. Illness, exertion, and the intense emotions -of that hour had made it impossible for her to receive -any fresh impressions, or even to recall those that perhaps -had once faintly suggested themselves and had faded. -She was conscious of but one thought, one hope. “Herlinda’s -child, Herlinda’s child!” she repeated again and -again. “O God, to find, to give back the child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The agonized woman would have clasped the hand of -Gonzales appealingly, but he had turned and led Herlinda -from the place. Chata, gliding toward Doña Isabel, drew -the arm of the suffering lady around her neck, and murmuring -fond words, thus stood supporting her. And thus -some moments later Ashley Ward found them. The -young girl seemed in his eyes the very embodiment of -Tenderness supporting Despair.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley took her hand. “Oh, Chata!” he said, “what -a fearful error this has been! And Chinita, where shall we -find her? Poor girl, poor girl! God grant she has not -found that man; the horrible fascination he held over -her might prove more fatal than her newly-sworn hatred. -Come, come, let us hasten. It is at least certain that -Ramirez is at this moment in Las Parras.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chinita!” cried Chata, her heart sickening. “What, -is Chinita the child of Doña Herlinda? I love her, but -oh she—the Señorita Herlinda! No, no, it cannot be!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley smiled drearily. “The eagle is sometimes found -in a dove’s nest,” he said. “Ah, with such a mother -what a glorious woman that strange defiant creature might -<span class='pageno' id='Page_455'>455</span>have become! But what powers for good have been debased -in those low associations among which she was -thrown!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The young man stopped, remembering Doña Isabel; -but she had moved away. She was already at the door. -Gonzales, who was returning for her, led her silently to -the carriage. The widow who had been with Herlinda -had dismounted and joined Chata and the priest, as they -issued from the gloomy chapel. The poor woman looked -confused and wretched; it was a comfort to her to hear -the muttered benediction of the friar.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata mounted the sorry beast on which she had come, -despite the remonstrance of Ashley. “No, no, I cannot -bear the accusing gaze of the Señorita Herlinda,” she -protested. “You, Don ’Guardo, know who I am. My -place is at Leon Vallé’s side, not here. O God, would -that it were not so!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The rain had ceased. There was a streak of dawn in -the sky. The road lay like a pale yellow serpent, which -grew brighter as they followed its sinuous twinings among -the hills. There was a slight accident, which detained the -carriage; but Chata, accompanied by Pepé,—who had recognized -her with amazement, and who gave her a brief -account of all that had happened in the life of Chinita -since they had parted,—hastened on as speedily as was -possible to her jaded beast. Just at the dawn she found -herself entering the straggling town; and suddenly the -mass of verdure beyond a broken wall which they were -skirting, and over which she was gazing with eyes as -heavy as the dripping herbage, sparkled as with a thousand -diamonds. The sun had risen; and facing it—his -eyes so dazzled that the figures upon the roadway were to -him like the scattered trees, mere black, shapeless masses—was -the object of her dread, yet also at that moment -of her fondest anguish bloody and travel-stained with the -marks of battle and flight upon him, the wreck of what -she had last seen him.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Filial duty and womanly pity supplied the place of that -love which she could not conjure even then, and with a -cry she drew rein at the prostrate gate; and to the amazement -of Pepé, who knew nothing of the relations between -the young girl and the defeated chieftain, she sprang to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_456'>456</span>the ground and rushed to the embrace of the hunted man. -Looking back she saw the others approaching, and sought -to repel them by an entreating gesture. Her voice was -heard in warning; but Ramirez heeded it no more than -he did the sound of wheels and the tread of horses on -the roadway. He had known of late such strange vicissitudes -and such unaccountable experiences, which had -been so unforeseen, often so disastrous yet fleeting, that -they seemed the phantasmagoria of a frightful dream. -These noises, these figures, were but the same to his -stunned senses. But this girl in his arms, who called him -father,—she was real flesh and blood, and thrilling with -life. He clung to her with rapture; and as he would -have done in a dream, he saw her there without surprise,—only -with a vague bewilderment, a fear that she too -would fade away. No! She clung to him with tears, -as though seeking to protect him from some menaced -danger.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ah, he understood: this man who had reached them -was the American who had accused him at the grave of -him whom he had murdered. Great God! Had beings -of this world and the other combined against him? There -was Pedro, or his ghost; there too was Herlinda! Yes, -though it was years since he had seen her, and then only -for a moment in her lover’s arms, he knew her instantly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez recoiled before her glance. His arms fell -from Chata. The released nun, who had not known -that the young girl had been of their company, thrust -her aside, then caught her hand and looked searchingly -into her face. Her own face quivered as she looked. It -grew whiter and whiter still, as Chata raised her eyes and -returned the gaze.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I saw you from the convent grate—at El Toro,” said -Herlinda, breathlessly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Carmen’s face brightened like that of one who solves a -joyful mystery. Chata sighed deeply.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Chata,” cried Ashley, who divined what must be in -the mind of Herlinda, “speak! Tell the Señorita that -you are not her daughter. Her suspense is terrible!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>But Chata could not utter a word. Ramirez broke into -a laugh. He himself heard that betrayal of his over-strained -nerves with a shudder. He would not have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_457'>457</span>laughed had his will served. Why should he laugh? -Then the shame, he thought, of this poor Herlinda had -been complete. She had a child; she had come to the -avenger of her shame hoping to find the lost proof of her -frailty. Even his sister Doña Isabel was crying wofully, -“Oh Leon, Leon, is it thou? Art thou the Ramirez my -poor Chinita loved? Oh, in pity give her back to me! I -will forgive all—yes, even Norberto’s death—if thou -wilt give Herlinda her child.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“You are all mad!” cried Ramirez, recalled to himself. -“What know I of Herlinda’s child, or even that she exists? -I only know that this is mine,” he laid his hand -upon Chata,—“she of whom you thought to cheat me. -Ah, had I known there was another infant to claim your -secret love,” he added mockingly, “I could have better -disposed of my own!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>While the unrepentant brother of Doña Isabel was saying -this, Pedro in gruff and surly accents was reminding -him of the girl who had stopped him upon the road years -before, and had given him an amulet. Yes, the impatient -listener remembered her; he had heard her name,—Chinita; -that was the girl of whom Rafael had spoken, -she who had been the foundling of the gatekeeper. A -vision of the unkempt, witch-like creature who had startled -his horse, as she stood under that accursed mesquite-tree, -rose before him. Was that Herlinda’s child? She stood -still with her hand upon Chata, gazing upon her incredulously. -Ramirez threw it off in sudden passion.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Uncle Leon,” said Herlinda humbly, hopelessly, “you -killed my husband. Oh, I would forgive you that, could -you give me my child! Oh, when I saw this girl here—” -she dropped her face into her hands and wept.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Shame on you!” cried Ramirez. The sight of -woman’s tears irritated him, and Herlinda’s assertion of -her marriage made blacker still a deed whose silent, -stealthy consummation had ever been to him a secret -cause of shame. “What though I killed your lover, was -it not to avenge the honor of the Garcias?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“The honor of those you had disgraced!” cried the -outraged woman scornfully,—“of her whose life you had -crushed! No, your hand was ready for murder, your -heart delighted in blood,—and so you killed my love, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_458'>458</span>without a word of warning; and because in your vile, -cruel heart you could believe no woman pure, no man -just, you thus brought in an instant desolation and ruin -upon me!” Ramirez shrank before the indignant pathos of -her voice. “Ah,” she added, “all, all this I would forgive—O -God, have I not prayed to thee and thy saints -for grace to forgive?—if I could but behold my child. -They tell me she has followed you,—one says because of -the strange infatuation your mad career presents to her; -another, that she may avenge her wrongs, her father’s -murder. I warn you! beware! such a girl is not to be -scorned.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“I know nothing of her,” cried Ramirez, vehemently. -“Here is your mother—Pedro; they have known the -girl, they should render you an account of her. As for -me, there is a man here who upon the grave of him I -killed declared himself his avenger: it is to him I will -answer for that deed.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley Ward involuntarily drew his sword, eager for -the offered combat; but Pedro and Gonzales threw themselves -between the two men. “This is neither the time -nor the place,” exclaimed Gonzales; while Herlinda cried, -“Do not touch my uncle for your life! My mother, my -mother!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel had indeed thrown herself upon her knees -before the priest, and frantically implored his interposition. -As he raised her he was seen to speak; but no one -heard his words, for shrill female voices in altercation -added to the confusion of the moment, and every eye was -turned in the direction whence they came.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Let me go! let me go! I will hear no more! I will -wait no longer! He will escape. Oh, it is not with such -weak words I will speak!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Two female figures issued panting from the covert,—it -seemed that the elder woman had striven to hold the -other back, but the younger had triumphed. Doña Isabel -uttered a cry of infinite gratitude and joy. Chata -caught and held the girl as she came. “Chinita! thank -God,” she cried, “you are here!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro in an ecstasy seized the robe of Herlinda. -“There, there,” he cried, “is your child! your beautiful -child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'><span class='pageno' id='Page_459'>459</span>“Yes!” cried Chinita in mad excitement which only -burning words could relieve. Not then could she pause -for fond greetings or reverent tears; the sight of Ramirez -seemed at once to fire yet absorb her wildest passions. -She sprang toward him, as one may suppose the lion’s -whelp faces a tiger that in some fierce struggle has filled -the air with the scent of blood. The very aroma arouses -and maddens its kindred nature. With an outburst of -eloquence which like arrows tipped with venom seemed -to sting and paralyze the object upon which they were -directed, she assailed Ramirez with the story of his crimes; -and separated from the picturesque and daring events that -had accompanied and disguised them, and told with dramatic -eloquence and vivid anger, they thrilled every listener -with shuddering abhorrence and dismay. Blackest of all, -she pictured the murder of John Ashley. Ramirez himself -seemed visibly to shrink and wither before her scathing -words, while Herlinda pressed her hands over her ears, -entreating her to cease. The agonized woman could not -endure the vivid rendition, for the girl unconsciously acted -out, as she conceived, the scene of midnight murder.</p> - -<p class='c001'>From the moment of Chinita’s appearance, Ramirez -had seemed overwhelmed as by the sight of some unearthly -being; and while she spoke his eyes riveted themselves -upon her, his jaw fell, his countenance took the hue -of death. Suddenly the girl burst into wild sobs and -tears. Her rage was spent. “Go, go!” she said,—“you -who have cursed my life, you who killed my father, -you who condemned my mother to a convent and me to -a beggar’s life; for was it strange they cast me out, -hoping I should die? And so I should have done but for -Pedro— Fiend, to pursue him with devilish tortures after -so many years! Oh! that it was which brought my hate -upon you. Ah, I had loved you from a child,—not with -a woman’s fancy, but as though the thought of you were -the very soul that was born with me. Of you I thought, -for you I prayed—was it not so, Chata? It was I who -gave you the amulet they said would insure life and fortune. -I planned and schemed to give you wealth and -power. Ah, even when I knew the cursed wrong you had -done me, I could not believe, I could not realize; that -murdered man had been dead so long he seemed of another -<span class='pageno' id='Page_460'>460</span>world, another time,—he seemed nothing to me. -But the torture of Pedro,—ah, that was real, that was -of my life; it maddened me. Ah! ah! ah! it brought -your downfall. You have wondered how your skill, your -well-laid plans, your valor, all have failed you. It was -because of me! because of us!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita turned and indicated her companion with a gesture -of her hand. She saw then what had riveted the gaze -of Ramirez, and rather than her words had held each witness -dumb. Dolores—her face kindled into fictitious youth, -her beautiful eyes gleaming with a flame that seemed to -scathe—had drawn from her brows the kerchief she had -worn. The act had revealed a wondrous mass of brown -hair, with the russet tinge of the chestnut, gleaming in -the sunlight with threads and spirals of gold. The two -heads, that of Chinita and of the woman, seemed to have -been modelled the one from the other, so exact was their -form, and so similar the texture and color and peculiar -growth of the marvellous wealth of curls that crowned -them both.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chinita drew back with dilated eyes, speechless with -the overwhelming horror of conviction. Chata would -have clasped her in her arms, but she drew herself away. -In the woman whose wild laugh rang upon the air Chata -recognized the one who had thrown herself before the -horse of Ramirez, and who had lain a bruised and -shameful figure upon the convent steps at El Toro.</p> - -<p class='c001'>There was a moment of profound silence. Even the -sultry air seemed waiting, as though for the thunderclap -that follows the lightning flash.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, Leon Vallé! you know now who accuses you,” -cried the woman. “Oh, is not this a sweet revenge, to -curse you by the lips of your own child,—the child you -robbed me of? What! you thought <em>that</em> your child!” -she pointed with ineffable contempt to Chata, who in the -overwhelming excitement of the moment clung to the pallid -and trembling Herlinda. “Bah! what is she to the -beautiful being I bore you,—into whose soul was infused -the idolatrous love that had been wrested from my heart, -the love that had been my ruin? Ah, such love dies hard! -It lived again in her,—it lived in her heart for <em>you</em>. Because -of it I dared not claim her, though I knew her the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_461'>461</span>moment my eyes fell upon her,—yes, as you know her -now. In whom but in our child could be reproduced this -wonderful wealth of hair you used to call the siren’s dower? -In whom but in our child could reappear your own face, -glorified, masked, by woman’s softness? Ah, Doña Isabel -and this Pedro were deceived; they thought it was the -beauty of Herlinda that they saw. But I knew it to be -yours. Ah, in all these weeks I have taught your child -how to hate you; I have plucked out that root of love; -I have made more real the fancied wrongs of which she -has accused you. Trifles! trifles! trifles all!—the murder -of a supposed father, the torture of an old man, the -death of a base lover,—yes, that Ruiz to whom from her -birth you destined her. But I,—I cry to you give back -my innocence! give back my ruined life! give back my -father, who by your act was killed as surely as though -your hand had struck the blow! give me the young years -of my daughter’s life, those she squandered a beggar at -your sister’s gate! Ah, you cannot, you cannot! But -I,—I can avenge my wrongs and hers.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Quick as a flash the infuriate woman levelled a pistol. -Quick as an answering flash Chinita threw herself before -her and sprang to her father’s breast. A second shot -following so quickly on the first that they seemed as -one, a cry of agony, a scream of madness, the cries of -women, the hoarse voices of men, made the garden a -pandemonium of hideous sounds. The desperate woman, -whose bullet had touched its mark harmlessly to Ramirez -through the slender form of Chinita, fled madly. Ramirez, -scarce conscious whether the blood which streamed over -him was that of his daughter or his own, bore the wounded -girl through the throng that pressed him, wildly calling -upon his child,—alas, alas! his but for the brief span -during which her warm young blood should leap from the -deadly puncture in her breast!</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda, the first to regain self-control even amid the -intense revulsion of feeling through which she had almost -instantaneously passed, tore into shreds some portion of -her garments and strove to stanch the wound; but in -vain. Chinita, with a smile which succeeded her first -wild cry and stare of horror, motioned her away. She -pressed her own fingers on the wound, raising her head -<span class='pageno' id='Page_462'>462</span>from the arm of Ramirez to say, “I saved you, I saved -you! just as I used to think I would do. Ah, I could -not hate you,—no, no! though I tried. And she could -not root out my love,—it lives here still.” She pressed -her hand still tighter on the wound. “My father! my -father!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The face of the hardened man contracted in agony. -He turned toward Doña Isabel and Herlinda with a heartrending -cry. “You are avenged,—both, both, avenged! -O my God! You never can have known such agony as -this. Oh wretched man that I am, to see the sum of all -my crimes cancelled by this terrible reprisal!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The hand of the dying girl fell from its place. Chata -knelt and placed her own with desperate energy against -the fatal wound. Chinita smiled and faintly kissed her. -“My dream has come true,” she said. “Ah, when they -pity me you will say, ‘She always longed to die for him.’ -Tell them it was best that I should die, I loved him so. -Death wipes out every wrong. He is my father!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ramirez groaned. Great drops of sweat stood on his -brow. He strove still to support her; but Gonzales on -the one side and Ashley on the other bore her weight.</p> - -<p class='c001'>By this time the garden was full of people. A man -forced his way through the throng.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Reyes! Reyes!” cried Ramirez, “Villain, did you not -as I commanded give my child to Isabel, my sister; or -was yours the accursed hand that brought her to this -pass?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Reyes gazed at the dying girl in horror. A suspicion -of the misapprehension under which Ramirez had acted, -and which had confirmed Ruiz in his treachery, had -haunted him for days, since in a remote village he had -met the administrador of Tres Hermanos and heard from -him the tale of the carrying away of Chata. He had -hastened toward Las Parras with Don Rafael and his -mother, bent on warning Ramirez and confessing the wild -carelessness with which he had disposed of the child who -had been confided to him, and who he had supposed until -his meeting with Chinita had indirectly reached the person -to whom she was destined. It had not been possible for -him—a man in whom the paternal instinct had never -dwelt—to imagine it the one virtue in the callous, fierce, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_463'>463</span>and unscrupulous Ramirez. But with this bleeding, dying -figure in his arms Ramirez seemed transformed. Reyes -fell on his knees.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, had you but told me the whole truth!” sighed -the dying girl. “A Garcia you said! Ah, I should have -been prouder to be <em>his</em> daughter than a thousand times -Garcia!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She turned her head, and her eyes fell on Ashley’s face -and rested there. A soft, strange illumination animated -her own, as though from some inward light just kindled. -“Adios! Adios!” she murmured. “Ah, you were noble, -generous! yet you thought I did not feel, that I did not -understand. Ah, could I live, you should see! But this -is best; you will never need trouble now for Chinita. No, -no, no! do not grieve— Ah, that might make me weak! -I would not—find it—hard—to die.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>She looked at him long and fixedly,—perhaps to her -as to Ashley a secret as sacred as it was precious, was -then revealed. A blueness crept around her mouth, a -glaze over her beautiful eyes. “No wonder that she -loved the American!” she whispered at length,—dreamily, -as though her mind wandered to the past. The -words sank like lead in Ashley’s heart, to be forgotten -never, never!</p> - -<p class='c001'>After a moment the lips of the dying girl moved in -prayer. The priest, who had from time to time endeavored -to control an emotion which seemed a personal rather than -a merely sympathetic grief, bent over her, and all present -fell on their knees. Chinita whispered in his ear a few -words, and received absolution with a smile of perfect -peace. Then began the solemn litany for the departing -soul; Chinita was evidently sinking rapidly.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro had fallen on his knees before her, in grief too -deep for words. Pepé from behind him gazed into her -glazing eyes with stoical despair. Suddenly she smiled, -and laying her arm over Pedro’s shoulder, extended her -blood-stained hand, looking at Pepé with the pretty, winning, -disdainful smile of old, and said faintly, though -proudly, “I am the daughter of the Señor General. Lead -me, Pepé,—lead me. I am tired!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>And thus with her arm around him who had been so -blindly faithful, and with her hand in that of the peasant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_464'>464</span>youth who through life had been her adoring slave, with -one long sigh, which left her lips smiling as it passed, -Chinita fell asleep,—resting forever from the passion and -turmoil of life.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Peace, peace, peace!” reiterated the solemn voice of -the priest, in assurance, in warning, in invocation. It -penetrated hearts to which the very word had seemed -a mockery. The hardest, the most reprobate, the haughtiest, -the most sorrowful, repeated it with a sob. Ramirez -on his knees, crushed to the earth, heard it as the -cry of a despairing angel. Where for him could peace be -found?</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_465'>465</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLVII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>When Pedro Gomez rose from his knees he held in his -hand a little square reliquary of faded blue. The string -from which it had hung had been pierced by the fatal bullet, -and it had dropped unheeded from Chinita’s neck.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Reverent hands bore the corpse into the desolate house; -while Ramirez, or Leon Vallé,—for by his true name he -was ever after called,—rising at the entreaty of his sister, -stood like one bereft of sense or movement. Suddenly -he laid his hand upon the gatekeeper’s arm and muttered -hoarsely, “Kill me Pedro! See, I have no sword. If -thou wilt not for vengeance, do it for love. You loved -her,—for her sake end my misery!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro laid the reliquary in his hand. “If it should not -be true?” he said doggedly of the faded silk. “Oh, was -it for this I bore so many years the mocking silence of -Doña Feliz and my mistress? No, no! it cannot be. -Open this. ’Twas on her bosom when she came into -my hands. The niña Herlinda promised me a token. It -will be found there,—there in the blessed reliquary. -Fool that I was to think it had nothing to declare to me. -Ah, how your hands shake! Well, ’tis but a moment’s -work.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The gatekeeper ripped the sewed edges with his dagger’s -point quickly, desperately, as though he were profaning -a sacred thing,—then blankly looked at the worthless -trifles on his palm. Just a tiny curl of brown and gold, -and the eye-tooth of some animal, a fancied charm against -infantile diseases, both wrapped in a paper scrawled with -a faintly-written prayer.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Pedro was convinced. Till then he had clung to the -belief that had given to his clownish life the elements of -heroism, of love and sacrifice. Chinita the beautiful, the -beloved, was dead—dead; but to his soul there came a -bereavement far more terrible than that of death. He -<span class='pageno' id='Page_466'>466</span>raised his glazing eyes appealingly, hopelessly. Ah, -there was Doña Feliz,—she whom all these years he -had accused as the hard, unpitying witness of the degradation -of Herlinda’s child! and of her Doña Isabel with -sobs was entreating brokenly in God’s name some news of -the charge she had received years before. Pedro listened -with a jealous eagerness, which the involuntary cry of -Chata, interrupting for a moment the answering voice of -Doña Feliz, made intolerable. “Mother of God!” he -cried at length, “it was Doña Feliz then who guarded -Herlinda’s child!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“O false, cruel Feliz! why did you deceive me?” cried -Doña Isabel. “Why did you suffer me to believe the -gatekeeper’s foundling was of my own flesh and blood? -Ah, God, so she was! It was the beauty of my mother -that deceived me; it was repeated in the offspring of Leon, -as it could never be in that of the American. Ah, it was -for that I loved Chinita with such passionate tenderness -and remorse! Oh, why did you suffer it? Why give -me no warning? And now Chinita is dead, and my -daughter cries to me for her child, and I cannot answer -her.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Did I not warn you at this gate?” responded Doña -Feliz, “that the day would come when you would bitterly -repent the words you uttered; when you bade me take and -hide the babe even from your knowledge,—never to mention -her whether living or dead, that to you it might be as -though she had never existed? Have I not obeyed your -mandate? Ay, even when my heart bled because I saw -the agony, the delusion under which you labored, I have -suffered with you, but I have been faithful.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Isabel bent her head in speechless woe. For her -there might not be even the poor consolation of reproach. -Yet she murmured, “In pity, where is Herlinda’s child?”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“She is here. Thank God she is here!” replied Doña -Feliz,—<a id='corr466.36'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='this'>“this</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_466.36'><ins class='correction' title='this'>“this</ins></a></span> girl whom you have believed to be the daughter -of my son. <a id='corr466.37'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='“Weeks'>Weeks</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_466.37'><ins class='correction' title='“Weeks'>Weeks</ins></a></span> ago your brother, Leon Vallé, -reft her from us, believing her his own. Only by revealing -the secret we had sworn to keep could Rafael -have saved her. Ah, God knows! Perhaps at the last -moment, when hastening from the strong room she threw -herself into the power of the ravisher that she might save -<span class='pageno' id='Page_467'>467</span>her foster-father from death, then perhaps his will might -have failed; but he was speechless. I have been ill; yes, -near to death,”—her haggard face, her sunken eyes, her -wasted figure attested that,—“yet we sought her far and -near. Until last night we had no tidings. A rough soldier -listened in the inn to the tale we everywhere proclaimed. -He came to me secretly; ‘Señora,’ he said, ‘the girl you -seek is perhaps in the house of Doña Carmen. Ramirez -himself is deceived.’ This was the first stage of our route -to Guanapila. We need go no farther; for standing there, -Herlinda, with Carmen, is your child.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Doña Feliz broke into sobs, sinking weak as a child -into the arms of Don Rafael. “The struggle is over,” she -said to him; “our task is accomplished, the long dissimulation -is ended!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda and Chata had not needed the conclusion of -the brief words of Doña Feliz; they had clasped each -other in a rapturous embrace. But the sobs of the distressed -lady recalled them from their joy, and hastening -to her side they poured out in fervent gratitude such -words as seemed to repay to her sensitive heart its long -years of devotion as truly as though each word had been -a priceless jewel.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah!” said Doña Feliz, “all, all is nothing to merit -the happiness of this hour. It is the poor Pedro, he whose -matchless devotion mocked my poor work, who is worthy -of such words as these. Ah, my heart bled for him, but -I could not, dared not speak.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Oh foolish unreasoning girl that I was so to bind -you!” cried Herlinda. She turned to speak to Pedro, -but he was nowhere to be seen. There was a movement -among the villagers, who, repulsed from the windows of -the house by the soldiers, began to disperse, when the -voice of the priest stopped them.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Listen, friends,” he said. “This has been a dread -and fearful hour, an hour to try the souls of men. I am -old, yet never have I known such anguish as this day has -brought to me. Some sixteen years ago, a stranger in this -land, ignorant of its language and customs, I came to this -village with a young American whom I met. He was a -handsome youth and won my heart,—a warm, Irish heart -that often led me contrary to my judgment. The American -<span class='pageno' id='Page_468'>468</span>told me that here his love was staying. I laughed at -him for fixing his heart upon some brown-skinned, dark-eyed -peasant girl. He did not contradict me, but bade -me be ready in the early morning to wed him to the lovely -object of his youthful passion. I remonstrated, yet was -glad to serve him. Though no priest lived here, the little -church was open; the people were glad of the opportunity -to hear Mass. Just before it began, John Ashley -and Herlinda Garcia were married. As she for a moment -loosened the reboso she wore to make the necessary responses, -I caught a glimpse of a face that led me to suspect -it was no simple peasant who stood before me. Yet -it was only in after years, when the requirements of the -law and the customs unalterable as law among the different -castes existing in your land became known to me, -that I remembered with disquiet the marriage I had celebrated -here. I was a missionary among the tribes of -Northern Indians, doing good work. I strove to assure -myself that, irregular as I knew the marriage to be,—contracted -in secret, unknown to and probably against the -consent of the young girl’s parents, in a language unintelligible -to the few witnesses,—the parties were probably -living in amity, satisfied, as surely God and man might -be, with a marriage which only the quibbles of the law -made disputable. Yet I could not be at ease; a voice -seemed calling me hither. Alas, alas! I came but to witness -the consummation of the tragedy begun years, years -ago,—a tragedy, the direct outcome of my fatal error. -But I will atone. I will go—would to God in penance -it might be upon my knees—to the Holy Father -in Rome, and pray him to ratify the marriage. Doña -Herlinda Garcia, pure in name as in deed, shall give -a spotless name to the child of her virtuous love!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The old monk ceased; tremblingly he wiped away his -tears. “Pardon, pardon!” he murmured to Herlinda. -“Oh my daughter, how you have suffered! But daughter, -the certificate I gave,—had you not the paper? That, -however subject to cavil, would have declared your -purity.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Ah, a paper!” cried Herlinda. “I have thought of -it a thousand times. It was in English. I thought it was -a blessed prayer, though John told me to treasure it as my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_469'>469</span>life; that was why I sewed it in the reliquary I placed -about my baby’s neck.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>With a cry Chata drew forth the tiny bag, almost the -counterpart of that poor Chinita had worn, and the sight -of which had confirmed the mistake of Pedro,—on such -slight things hangs fate! She thought of how often she -and Chinita had compared them when children, laughingly -proposing to exchange or open them, yet ever shrinking -from tampering with them in superstitious awe. Pedro, -who had returned, snatched it from her hand,—the act -irresistible. As he opened it with his dagger’s point, a -filigree earring fell into his palm. He groaned and turned -away.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Herlinda caught from his hand a tattered paper. -“Read, read!” she cried to Ashley. “See that he was -noble, true as you have said! He was my husband!”</p> - -<p class='c001'>The proof attested by the signature of the long dead -Mademoiselle La Croix, and that of the living priest, was -of the simplest, the most efficient, and all these years -had been preserved by the piety or superstition of the -child to whom it had been confided, and who, had she but -known it, had so vital an interest in its discovery. Chata -gazed at the paper in blank amaze. Around her were -men and women giving thanks to God and his saints. At -the knees of Herlinda was her uncle Leon Vallé and Doña -Isabel her mother.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Ashley Ward was the first to break the spell. He took -Herlinda’s hand. “Remember, here is a man who never -doubted you,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“And here one who would have died for you!” said -Gonzales.</p> - -<p class='c001'>In a single phrase each had expressed the loyalty of the -nation he represented,—Ashley, that of faith in man’s -honor and woman’s chastity; Gonzales, the tenacious love -that distrust might change to jealous madness, but which -it could never destroy.</p> - -<p class='c008'>Within a few hours a sad and solemn funeral <a id='corr409.37'></a><span class='htmlonly'><ins class='correction' title='cortége'>cortege</ins></span><span class='epubonly'><a href='#c_409.37'><ins class='correction' title='cortége'>cortege</ins></a></span> set -forth from Las Parras, bearing all that was mortal of the -beautiful Chinita. Not far from the limits of the town -Ashley and Gonzales came upon a startling and awful -sight,—a woman lay dead upon the road, her garments -<span class='pageno' id='Page_470'>470</span>sodden, her beautiful hair defiled by the mud of the highway. -She had fallen face downward. As though some -evil omen warned him, Leon Vallé hastening from the -rear anticipated them in raising the corpse.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was that of the maddened Dolores. It had needed -no weapon to reach her heart; despair and agony had -summoned to her destruction the swift and fatal malady -that had killed her father. Those who saw her, he who -pressed her wildly to his breast and bade her live, accusing -himself not her, called it a broken heart. As her child -had said, “Death wipes out every wrong.” Only remorse, -pity, love survive.</p> - -<p class='c001'>They buried them both—the two of that sad name -Dolores—in the hacienda church. But one lies in a -nameless grave, and the other is marked by one that -recalls a vision of a beautiful girl, to whom a happier -destiny should have brought the joys of life, and whose -proud spirit should have conquered its cares; yet its perplexities, -its conflicting passions, had made the pilgrimage -so hard, so set with thorns, that she had been content—yes, -thankful—to end it there: “<span class='sc'>Chinita</span>.”</p> - -<p class='c001'>In so short a life the unfortunate girl could not have -wandered far from heaven; yet for years there was one -on earth who spent upon each day long hours of prayer -and fasting at the tomb of her brother’s child,—to the -memory and the name of Chinita uniting that of Leon, and -embracing both in the undying love which looked beyond -the grave for its perfection and its reward. At evening -would come one older, but more peaceful than the mourner, -to lead her home; and hand in hand, the two would -pass out into the soft and tranquil air. Thus Doña Isabel -and Feliz renewed with tears the friendship of their youth; -and thus—ended the ambitions, the passions, the impetuous -pride, sources of such strange and grievous perplexities—they -await together in peaceful gloom the light -of a perfect day.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_471'>471</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XLVIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>It was thus that Ashley Ward and his bride beheld -them in after years,—years during which he had returned -to the United States to take part in that great conflict -which had been raging there while he had been gaining -experience in the irregular and inglorious strife in which -his zeal for liberty had been stimulated by private aims. -The purity of his patriotism was unstained, however, by -any less glorious motive; and during the last two years -of the Civil War for the Union there was none who fought -more valiantly than he, nor one who laid down his sword -with a more just renown, to dedicate himself to the profession -which in the lack of fortune was both his choice -and a positive need.</p> - -<p class='c001'>That Ward should renounce the fortune of John Ashley -was an actual grief to Herlinda and to Chata herself, but -he would have it so; and even Mary Ashley was pleased -it should be, although, as she said, her niece was already -most absurdly wealthy in right of the Garcias for a girl -of such retired and humble tastes,—one whose only extravagance -was in her charities. Mary Ashley found -in the love of Chata—she soon abandoned the attempt -to call her by the stately name of Florentina—a recompense -for the scrupulous conscientiousness which had led -her to seek the supposed wife and possible child of her -brother.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was not until after the Pope had ratified her marriage -that Herlinda Ashley visited the home of her husband’s -family. After that she returned at intervals while Chata -was being educated as her aunt desired. During that -time Gonzales, from whose hand Herlinda had received -the Papal edict, was fighting anew the battles of freedom -on his native soil; and by his side, doing gallant deeds -unstained by crime, was Leon Vallé. But when the short-lived -<span class='pageno' id='Page_472'>472</span>empire of Maximilian was overthrown, when Herlinda -crowned the long fidelity of Gonzales by following -the rare example given by a few released nuns and became -the wife of the Liberal soldier, the silent yet resolute man -who had been his constant companion in arms disappeared, -and with him Pedro Gomez.</p> - -<p class='c001'>No one but Rosario, who as the wife of Don Alonzo -took the lead among the young and idle wives of the hacienda -employés, asked any questions concerning the disappearance -of Leon Vallé. Doña Rita looked wise, and -Don Rafael smiled at her, for she knew nothing, and could -conjecture nothing that might bring evil. Rafael was the -same indulgent, easy husband he had ever been. It did -not occur to either that a more perfect confidence might -have been observed between them,—they had followed -custom; what more could be needful?</p> - -<p class='c001'>Chata and her mother sometimes talked of Vallé with -wondering pity; but they saw that Doña Isabel was content,—his -fate was not a mystery to her. Perhaps he -was wandering in foreign countries. At least, after he -had gained the new, fresh fame which honored the name of -Leon Vallé, he was no more seen in Mexico. There was -but one thought that troubled the heart of Chata. She -could not, even for Chinita’s sake, forgive the murderer of -her father.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was when Ashley Ward had gained a certain assurance -of success and ultimate wealth, that he wooed and -won the object of his early, generous search, his early protecting -interest, his later love. In the heart of Chata no -rival flame had ever glowed; Ashley had been her first, -her only love. And he perhaps was scarcely conscious -that the pang which ever came at the sound of one almost -sacred name, was the throb of a scar where love had set -its deathless root. Chata never suspected that an uncommon -grief had made possible the tranquil happiness which -she shared with her husband; while he never questioned -even in his own soul whether his happiness would have -been greater, or perhaps have been changed to torture and -torment, had the beautiful, erratic daughter of Leon Vallé -been spared to earth. Whatever wild emotion had thrilled -him, Chata,—the good, the sweet, the gentle Chata, with -the intelligent and reflective mind, which curbed and perfected -<span class='pageno' id='Page_473'>473</span>the enduring emotions of her heart,—was the only -woman he had ever thought of as his wife. They rejoiced -in perfect trust and sympathy,—she never imagining, he -never regretting, the more impetuous passion that might -have been.</p> - -<p class='c001'>It was while on their wedding journey, attended by an -escort of soldiers, which the insecurity of the roads in the -years immediately following the overthrow of the empire -made necessary, that they went into a remote district -among the mountains, some twenty leagues from Vera -Cruz, from which port they were to sail for their Northern -home. The captain of the escort was a silent, swarthy -young man, who born a peasant, had by his valor and development -of extraordinary qualities as a strategist acquired -during the contest with the French a reputation that -would, had the incentive of personal ambition urged, have -made it possible for him to reach the highest grade of -military rank. But he fought for principle, not for glory; -to forget despair, not to challenge fame. The man was -Pepé Ortiz. Upon such men, the world when joy and love -fail, sometimes thrusts greatness. This was predicted of -the silent captain.</p> - -<p class='c001'>One night the young officer came to the inn and invited -the bride and groom to walk with him in the moonlight. -They passed through the streets of the town, where the -massive adobe houses, white as marble in the deceptive -light, threw shadows black as ink, and presently emerged -upon a paved road, which led to a garden set thick with -trees. The air was heavy with perfume; hundreds of fireflies, -where the thicket was so dense no ray from the sky -might penetrate, seemed to fill the place with ghostly fires. -It was enchanting, weird,—ay, awe-inspiring. Chata -clung to her husband’s arm in mute expectancy.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Soon in the near distance they heard a sound as of -measured strokes, and a low continuous moan. The strokes -quickened to the whizz of heavy flails, the moan to the -dirge of the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Miserere</span></i>. Then they understood with a shock -of horror that they were about to witness one of the processions -of penitents, which, though forbidden by the civil -law, still were conducted secretly in remote and fanatical -districts. Chata would have fled, but the pity at her heart -seemed to paralyze her limbs. Ashley, with a feeling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_474'>474</span>strangely differing from mere curious expectancy, put his -arm around her and awaited the advent of the dolorous -company.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Presently the penitents came from amid the shelter of -the trees, like mournful ghosts upon the moonlit road. -They were all men,—men to whom the memory of their -sins was intolerable,—and as they walked they wielded -the cruel scourges on their bared shoulders, and ceaselessly -intoned the dirge. It was past midnight, and for hours -they had continued the dreadful flagellation and the unceasing -march. Blood streamed from many a gaping -wound; they staggered as they walked; more than once -a fainting sufferer fell, and was lifted to his feet by the -man who walked beside him. All this dismal company -were masked; each wore a friar’s gown and a rough shirt -of hair, which hung pendant from the girdle at the waist, -above which was seen the cut and bleeding skin.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Sick with horror, when the last of the miserable wretches -had gone by, Chata leaned sobbing on her husband’s -breast. But he gently set her upon the grassy bank of -the roadside, and followed by Pepé hastened to the help -of a poor wretch, above whose prostrate form his faithful -attendant bent with despairing gestures. They raised the -apparently dying man, and turned aside the mask. The -moonlight fell upon the face of Leon Vallé, worn with -the passions of other years and with the griefs of the -present, yet nobler than they had ever beheld it. At that -moment the likeness between this man and Chata became -in Ashley’s eyes peculiarly intensified.</p> - -<p class='c001'>The trembling and sensitive young wife had approached, -with an absolute certainty that something was transpiring -which was to touch her own being. Scarcely surprised, -though with a shock, she recognized Leon Vallé. Presently -she bent and kissed him with tears. From that -moment Chata had no secret rancor to regret,—the -penitent was forgiven.</p> - -<p class='c001'>“Señores, Señores, I pray you leave us; he revives, -he will in a moment recover consciousness,” cried the -rough voice of Pedro Gomez. With that complete self-abnegation -which, when the claims and interests of his -seignorial chieftain are involved, is perhaps presented in -its highest development by the Mexican peasant, he had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_475'>475</span>ignored the revengeful abhorrence with which the memory -of Leon Vallé had for years inspired him, and for the -sake of her whom he had loved and served as the scion -of a noble race, had dedicated his life to the father for -whom she had gladly died.</p> - -<p class='c001'>As Doña Feliz had once done years before, Chata kissed -with reverence the hand of this embodiment of fidelity, and -with a throbbing heart turned from the last scene in the -drama of which her life had formed a part. Thenceforth -a new act was entered upon, in which deep and tender -memories and present peace and trust are working out the -trite but blissful tale of wedded love.</p> - -<p class='c001'>University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<p class='c001'><a id='endnote'></a></p> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='large'>Transcriber’s Note</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c001'>The proper nouns Castile and Castilian are sometimes spelled with a -double ‘ll’.</p> - -<p class='c001'>On p. 466, an opening quotation mark seems to be misplaced. See the -table below.</p> - -<p class='c001'>Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. -The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions.</p> - -<table class='table0' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='11%' /> -<col width='62%' /> -<col width='25%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_77.6'></a><a href='#corr77.6'>77.6</a></td> - <td class='c012'>thus acquiring an exquisite [caligraphy]</td> - <td class='c013'><i>sic</i> calligraphy</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_100.21'></a><a href='#corr100.21'>100.21</a></td> - <td class='c012'>thrust the ta[il/li]sman into his belt</td> - <td class='c013'>Transposed.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_117.6'></a><a href='#corr117.6'>117.6</a></td> - <td class='c012'>If Vi[n]cente Vicente is a traitor</td> - <td class='c013'>Removed.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_141.30'></a><a href='#corr141.30'>141.30</a></td> - <td class='c012'>on the wounded shoulder[,/.]</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_181.23'></a><a href='#corr181.23'>181.23</a></td> - <td class='c012'>a ru[r]al beau from a neighboring village</td> - <td class='c013'>Inserted.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_207.28'></a><a href='#corr207.28'>207.28</a></td> - <td class='c012'>Yo[n/u] are not old enough</td> - <td class='c013'>Inverted.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_260.31'></a><a href='#corr260.31'>260.31</a></td> - <td class='c012'>chilled and silenced her[,/.]</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_316.27'></a><a href='#corr316.27'>316.27</a></td> - <td class='c012'>the son of Pancho Vall[e/é]</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_340.1'></a><a href='#corr340.1'>340.1</a></td> - <td class='c012'>with an elec[t]ric thrill.</td> - <td class='c013'>Inserted.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_351.21'></a><a href='#corr351.21'>351.21</a></td> - <td class='c012'>I pray you!’[”]</td> - <td class='c013'>Added.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_352.37'></a><a href='#corr352.37'>352.37</a></td> - <td class='c012'>A look of ind[i/e]scribable hauteur</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_365.38'></a><a href='#corr365.38'>365.38</a></td> - <td class='c012'>she murm[e/u]red in a low voice</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_409.37'></a><a href='#corr409.37'>409.37</a></td> - <td class='c012'>a sad and solemn funeral cort[é/è]ge</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_415.17'></a><a href='#corr415.17'>415.17</a></td> - <td class='c012'>into the chap[par/arr]al.</td> - <td class='c013'>Replaced.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_427.22'></a><a href='#corr427.22'>427.22</a></td> - <td class='c012'>reputations of special sanc[t]ity</td> - <td class='c013'>Added.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_438.35'></a><a href='#corr438.35'>438.35</a></td> - <td class='c012'>this silent, creeping e[mn/nm]ity</td> - <td class='c013'>Transposed.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_442.4'></a><a href='#corr442.4'>442.4</a></td> - <td class='c012'>she cried[,] staggering to her feet.</td> - <td class='c013'>Added.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_466.36'></a><a href='#corr466.36'>466.36</a></td> - <td class='c012'>[“]this girl whom you have believed</td> - <td class='c013'>Added.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c012'><a id='c_466.37'></a><a href='#corr466.37'>466.37</a></td> - <td class='c012'>to be the daughter of my son. [“]Weeks</td> - <td class='c013'>Removed.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATA AND CHINITA ***</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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