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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-02 00:21:13 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-02 00:21:13 -0800 |
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diff --git a/75275-h/75275-h.htm b/75275-h/75275-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..29455fb --- /dev/null +++ b/75275-h/75275-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6145 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + A crown of shame (vol. 2 of 3) | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tiny {width: 10%; margin-left: 45%; margin-right: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +td {padding-left: 0.5em;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +img.drop-cap +{ + float: left; + margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; +} + +.x-ebookmaker-2 img.drop-cap +{ + display: none; +} + +span.drop-cap +{ + color: transparent; + visibility: hidden; + margin-left: -0.8em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker-2 span.drop-cap +{ + color: inherit; + visibility: visible; + margin-left: 0; +} + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { + margin-left: 7.5%; + margin-right: 7.5%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph3 {text-align: center; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} + +div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} +div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} + +.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + +.hangingindent {text-indent: -2em; } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75275 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1>A CROWN OF SHAME.</h1> + +<p class="ph1">VOL. II.</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title_page.jpg" alt="title page"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="titlepage"> +<p class="ph2">A CROWN OF SHAME.</p> + +<p><span class="xlarge"><i>A NOVEL.</i></span></p> + +<p>BY<br> + +<span class="large">FLORENCE MARRYAT,</span><br> + +<small>AUTHOR OF<br> +‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘MY SISTER THE ACTRESS,’<br> +ETC. ETC.</small></p> + +<p><i>IN THREE VOLUMES.</i><br> +<br> +VOL. II.</p> + +<p>LONDON:<br> +<span class="large">F. V. WHITE & CO.,</span><br> +31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C.</p> + +<hr class="tiny"> +<p>1888.</p> + +<p>[<i>All rights reserved.</i>]</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +EDINBURGH<br> +COLSTON AND COMPANY<br> +PRINTERS</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_toc.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak"><i>CONTENTS.</i></h2> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/decoline.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<table> + +<tr><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER I.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER II.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26"> 26</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER III.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50"> 50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER IV.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81"> 81</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER V.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106"> 106</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER VI.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137"> 137</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER VII.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_157"> 157</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER VIII.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_193"> 193</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>CHAPTER IX.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_213"> 213</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph2">A CROWN OF SHAME.</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph3">POPULAR NEW NOVELS.</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<hr class="tiny"> +<p class="center"><i>Now ready, in One Vol., the Seventh Edition of</i></p> + +<div class="hangingindent"> + +<p><b>ARMY SOCIETY; or, Life in a Garrison Town.</b> By <span class="smcap">John Strange +Winter</span>. Author of ‘Bootles’ Baby.’ Cloth gilt, 6s.; also picture boards, 2s.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="tiny"> +<p class="center"><i>Also now ready, in cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. each.</i></p> + +<div class="hangingindent"> +<p><b>GARRISON GOSSIP, Gathered in Blankhampton.</b> By <span class="smcap">John Strange +Winter</span>. Also picture boards, 2s.</p> + +<p><b>IN THE SHIRES.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">Randal H. Roberts</span>, Bart.</p> + +<p><b>THE OUTSIDER.</b> By <span class="smcap">Hawley Smart</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE GIRL IN THE BROWN HABIT.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">Edward Kennard</span>.</p> + +<p><b>STRAIGHT AS A DIE.</b> By the same Author.</p> + +<p><b>BY WOMAN’S WIT.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">Alexander</span>. Author of ‘The Wooing O’t.’</p> + +<p><b>KILLED IN THE OPEN.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">Edward Kennard</span>.</p> + +<p><b>IN A GRASS COUNTRY.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">H. Lovett-Cameron</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A DEVOUT LOVER.</b> By the same Author.</p> + +<p><b>TWILIGHT TALES.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">Edward Kennard</span>. <i>Illustrated.</i></p> + +<p><b>SHE CAME BETWEEN.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">Alexander Fraser</span>.</p> + +<p><b>THE CRUSADE OF ‘THE EXCELSIOR.’</b> By <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A REAL GOOD THING.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">Edward Kennard</span>.</p> + +<p><b>CURB AND SNAFFLE.</b> By Sir <span class="smcap">Randal H. Roberts</span>, Bart.</p> + +<p><b>DREAM FACES.</b> By the Hon. Mrs <span class="smcap">Fetherstonhaugh</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A SIEGE BABY.</b> By <span class="smcap">John Strange Winter</span>.</p> + +<p><b>MONA’S CHOICE.</b> By Mrs <span class="smcap">Alexander</span>. Author of ‘The Wooing O’t.’</p> +</div> +<hr class="tiny"> +<p class="center"><span class="large">F. V. WHITE & Co., 31 Southampton Street, Strand,<br> +London, W.C.</span></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i001a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<p class="ph2">A CROWN OF SHAME.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/decoline.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i001b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="H"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">H</span>E left Liz weeping over the +dead body of her father. +How paltry all other troubles +seemed to be, as she did so. She +had no power, at that moment, to +realise any fact but one,—that he had +left her, and without a warning. He, +who had been her sole protector and +companion, beside whom she had walked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> +every moment of her life, sharing his +knowledge, and his duties, and his cares, +had gone forth into the dreamland without +her, and for the future she must +struggle through life as best she might, +alone. Liz was not ignorant of the +cause of her father’s death, but she +had been quite unprepared for it. She +had known for some time past that +he had a weak heart, but men lived +with such, sometimes to their three +score years and ten. He had passed +a tranquil and unexciting life. The +passions which had raged stormily perhaps +in his youth had forsaken him +in his latter days, and he had appeared +likely to live on to a good old age. +But the events of the last week had +greatly upset him. Liz had no doubt, +as she looked at his pale, calm features, +that his sudden death lay, in a great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> +measure, at Maraquita’s door, and the +fact did not make her feel more +tenderly towards her adopted sister. +But the infant was wailing in her arms, +and she felt that something must be +done at once. This was no time for +weeping, or inaction. She turned on +her heel, with set features, and teeth +closely clenched together, and passed +into the outer room to summon her +negress attendant Chloe to her aid. +Chloe was conspicuous only by her +absence, but on the threshold of the +outer door she found the yellow girl, +Rosa, slowly rocking herself to and +fro.</p> + +<p>‘What are you doing here?’ demanded +Lizzie sternly. ‘Have you not +brought me into enough trouble already?’</p> + +<p>The girl turned round and caught +the folds of her dress, and buried her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> +face in them, crying. The coloured +people are very emotional, and a sudden +remorse had stabbed the depths of +poor Rosa’s heart.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Miss Lizzie,’ she sobbed, ‘I’se +so sorry the poor Doctor dead! Massa +Courcelles tell me so as he went out. +The dear good Doctor, who was so +berry kind to me in my sickness, and +so good to my little Carlo, and now +he gone too, and me nebber see him +any more, and my heart is broke, Miss +Liz, my heart is broke!’</p> + +<p>This tribute to her dead father’s +virtues affected Liz more than anything +else could have done.</p> + +<p>‘If <i>you</i> are so sorry for his loss, +Rosa,’ she answered gently, ‘what do +you suppose <i>I</i> must feel. I seem to +have lost everything to-day—<i>everything</i>,’ +she added, in a vague and weary tone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>‘Oh, Missy Liz, I’se so sorry!’ repeated +Rosa. ‘But what can I do to +help you, and to take some of dis +trouble off you? Let me do something, +Missy Liz, to show I’se real +sorry.’</p> + +<p>‘You can go up to the White House, +Rosa, and tell Mr Courtney of—of—<i>this</i>, +and say I should like to see him as soon +as he can come to me. I can’t find Chloe +anywhere.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah! dat Chloe no good. She too +stupid!’ cried Rosa, with all a negress’s +jealousy. ‘And may I come back, too, +Missy Liz, with Massa Courtney, and +help you nurse the baby, same as you +helped me with little Carlo?’</p> + +<p>The allusion to the child brought +the trouble it had caused her too vividly +to Lizzie’s mind. She dropped into a +chair, and burst into tears.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>‘Oh, Rosa! Rosa! you have spoiled +my life for me. How could you be so +cruel?’</p> + +<p>The yellow girl crawled on her knees +to the side of the Doctor’s daughter.</p> + +<p>‘Missy Liz, what I done so bad? +Isn’t dat baby your own baby, then?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course it isn’t! How could you +think such a thing of me? It is a +little nurse-child which was left in +charge of my dear father, and I was +minding it for him. But you made +Monsieur de Courcelles believe that it +belongs to me, and you have parted +us for ever. He was to have been my +husband, Rosa, but he never will be so +now; never—never!’</p> + +<p>Rosa’s eyes opened with surprise.</p> + +<p>‘Missy Liz, you must tell him I’se a +liar. I know noting of de baby, only I +see it on your bed, and I’se so sorry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> +I speak to Massa Courcelles about it. It +was de debbil spoke, Missy Liz, and not +me. Something seem to come in my +head and say dat chile like my little +Carlo, and you no better den me. But I +see now I’se all wrong, and you too good +to do such a drefful thing. You tell +Massa Courcelles I’se a liar, and it’ll be +all right again, Missy Liz.’</p> + +<p>‘No, Rosa, it will never be right again +in the way you mean. I <i>did</i> tell Monsieur +de Courcelles what you say, but he +refused to believe me. No one will believe +me now, I am afraid,’ said Liz +mournfully, ‘and I must bear the brunt +of my own rash promise.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh! Missy Liz, must you keep dat +baby dat isn’t yours, and take de trouble +of it all your life?’</p> + +<p>‘I think so, Rosa. I have nowhere to +send it; and you would not have me turn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> +it out on the cold world alone? No, my +dear dead father left it to me as a sacred +charge,’ cried Lizzie, weeping, ‘and I +will guard it, whatever it may cost me. +It will be something to do for his sake.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Miss Lizzie!’ exclaimed Rosa, +awed by a display of heroism she could +not understand, ‘you berry good woman! +I nebber know till dis day how good a +woman you are. Let me stay with you, +Miss Lizzie. Send dat Chloe back to +huts, and let me be your servant, ’stead +of her. Chloe don’t know nuffin of +children. <i>She</i> not had a little boy, like +me. Let me nurse dat baby for you, +and I will be faithful, trust me, Missy Liz, +and nebber let de debbil speak through +my mouth again.’</p> + +<p>‘I believe you, Rosa,’ replied Lizzie. +‘I believe you are sorry for the mischief +you have done, and that you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> +would undo it if you could. You were +a good mother to little Carlo, and you +would be a kind nurse to this poor +little one. If it can be managed, it +shall be arranged so, but we can do +nothing without the leave of Mr +Courtney. Go now and tell him of +the grief I am in, and we will talk +of these things another day.’</p> + +<p>‘But I will come back and hold de +baby for you, Missy Liz!’ exclaimed +the yellow girl, as she set off towards +the White House.</p> + +<p>Liz walked back into the death +chamber, and mechanically performed the +necessary offices to prepare her father’s +body for the grave. She did not weep +again as she did so. The blow of her +two great losses, coming so quickly one +upon the other, had stunned her, and +dried up the sources of her tears. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> +would have time to think and weep, she +thought, by-and-by. When Mr Courtney +arrived post-haste in answer to her summons, +his grief appeared to be scarcely +less than her own. He had been sincerely +and deeply attached to this erring +friend of his youthful days, and had +never anticipated losing him so soon. +He shed tears freely over the silent +corpse, and kept on assuring Lizzie that +her future should be one of his first +cares.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t let that trouble you, my dear,’ +he reiterated. ‘I looked upon your dear +father as my brother, and you shall +never miss his protection whilst I can +extend it to you. From this moment, +Lizzie, I shall regard you as my +daughter, and as soon as the sad ceremonies +which we must go through, are +concluded, I shall carry you off to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> +White House, and consider you second +only in my affection to Maraquita.’</p> + +<p>‘Dear Mr Courtney, you are too good +to me,’ gasped Lizzie, ‘but—but—please +don’t speak of my future to me to-day.’</p> + +<p>‘No, no, of course not. It was +thoughtless of me,’ said the planter; ‘but +I did it with the view to set your mind +at ease. To-day we must give up entirely +to thoughts of my dear and valued +friend.’</p> + +<p>He imagined that the girl’s mind was +too distracted to dwell on anything but +her great loss; but Lizzie had remembered +that before the morrow, the +scandal that was being spread abroad +concerning her would reach his ears, +and render her unfit in his eyes to be +the companion of his daughter.</p> + +<p>When he had told her what arrangements +he had made for the funeral,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> +which (according to the custom in hot +climates) was to take place that evening, +Mr Courtney, with a farewell grasp +of his dead friend’s hand, turned to leave +the bungalow, when his eye fell upon +the yellow girl, Rosa, squatting on the +floor with the baby in her arms.</p> + +<p>‘What infant is that?’ he demanded +indifferently, for it was so wrapped up +in flannel that he could not see its +face.</p> + +<p>Liz had anticipated the question, and +dreaded it; but she felt evasion would +be useless, and had not attempted to +send the child out of his sight.</p> + +<p>‘It is a little girl which was confided +to my dear father’s care,’ she answered, +in a low voice. ‘And he was going to +consult Dr Martin at the Fort about a +nurse to take the charge of it, when he +was called away.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>Mr Courtney’s eyes opened somewhat +at her explanation.</p> + +<p>‘Is it a white child then?’ he asked.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, it is a white child,’ replied Lizzie, +with a deep sigh, as she stood trembling +at what might follow. But Mr Courtney +said no more on the subject. Perhaps +his mind was too full of his lost friend +to think of minor things, anyway he left +the bungalow without another word or +look, and Lizzie breathed more freely +when he had gone. She spent the remainder +of the day beside the remains +of the father whom she had loved so +well, and when the sun had sunk in the +west, and the cool sea breezes commenced +to blow over San Diego, she +followed his coffin to the little European +burial ground, which was situated on the +top of a hill, and in full view of the +glorious ocean. She saw that there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> +were many friends, both white and +coloured, gathered round the open grave +but she was in no fit condition to recognise +who they were. Only, as the last +words of the solemn service were concluded, +and she heard the sods of earth +rattle on the coffin lid, and felt as if she +must throw herself in with them, and +be buried with all she loved best in +this world, she found some one supporting +her failing steps on either side, +and looking up saw she was standing +between Mr Courtney and Captain +Norris.</p> + +<p>‘Come, my dear child,’ whispered the +former. ‘It is all over now. Let us +see you safely to your home.’</p> + +<p>They led her between them back to +the empty bungalow, and the three +friends sat down together in the sitting-room, +whilst Rosa squatted in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> +verandah with Maraquita’s baby in her +arms. Liz, making an effort to battle +with her emotion, busied herself with +setting some light refreshment before +her guests. Mr Courtney drank a +glass of iced sherbet in silence, and +then cleared his throat as though to +force himself to speak.</p> + +<p>‘Lizzie, my dear, I have a good +deal to say to you, and I wish to +say it now. I might leave it till to-morrow, +but I think it will do you +good to fix your mind at once upon +business, and to settle what you are to +do in the future.’</p> + +<p>Lizzie turned a little paler than she +had been. She had understood her +future to be settled that morning. But +she guessed why it required further explanation +now.</p> + +<p>‘Captain Norris, than whom I think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> +your dear father had no warmer friend, +has been talking to me on the subject +this afternoon, and has consented to +become the guardian and trustee of your +interests.’</p> + +<p>‘I am of age,’ interrupted Lizzie, with +open eyes; ‘I require no guardian.’</p> + +<p>‘Stop, my dear, and let me finish what +I have to say. You may not require a +personal guardian, but your monetary interests +may need looking after. I am not +likely to forget you at my death, Lizzie.’</p> + +<p>‘Indeed, Mr Courtney, you are too +good to me,’ said Liz,—‘as you were to +my poor father,’ she added, in a lower +voice.</p> + +<p>‘Your father was my dearest friend: I +can never forget that,’ replied the planter; +‘and I am only following the dictates of +my affection for him in making a suitable +provision for his daughter. I have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> +thinking the matter over deeply, Lizzie, +and I have decided that I cannot spare +you from amongst my coolies. Why +should you not carry on the work from +which your father has been so suddenly +called away? I know you are competent +to do so, from what he himself has told +me, and in any difficult cases you can +always call in the assistance of the Doctor +from the Fort. What I propose is that +you should continue to live in this +bungalow (the furniture and effects of +which I shall make over to you as your +own property), and to work amongst the +coloured people; and I will gladly pay +you the same remuneration as heretofore. +Don’t you think it will be the best plan, +Lizzie, and that you will be happier if +you bravely try to forget your grief, in +carrying on a life of activity and usefulness?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>‘I am <i>sure</i> it will be best,’ she answered, +in a low tone.</p> + +<p>Her pride, which had made her divine +at once the cause of her benefactor’s change +of mind, would have also prompted her +to refuse his offers of assistance, but she +was helpless in the matter. She had no +friends to go to, no resources to fall back +upon. What could she have done, left +alone in San Diego, but live on charity, +which she would rather have died than +accept? Mr Courtney’s proposal was at +least not a humiliating one. He offered +her money in return for her labour, and +she was resolved to earn it, and thanked +Heaven she was capable of doing so. +That he should not even have alluded +to his promise of the morning wounded +but did not surprise her. He had heard +the wretched slander, which was doubtless +already going the round of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> +plantation, concerning her. Henri de +Courcelles had, perhaps, repeated it, and +Mr Courtney already regretted that he +had held out hopes he could not fulfil. +Well, he should not read her disappointment +in her eyes. She would put a +brave face on the matter, and battle (as +best she could) for herself; for the oath +she had taken to her dead father was +doubly sacred, now that all hope of release +from it was over.</p> + +<p>‘We will do all in our power to make +your life comfortable,’ continued Mr Courtney; +‘and you may always depend on me, +Lizzie, as your friend.’</p> + +<p>He did not include his wife’s and +daughter’s friendship with his own, and +Lizzie noticed the omission, and shrunk +under it.</p> + +<p>‘Mr Courtney,’ she said, in a firm +voice, though her eyes were full of tears,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> +‘I thank you for your offers of assistance, +and I accept them gratefully. I did not +know till a few days back, the whole +extent to which my poor father was indebted +to you, but I shall never forget it, +and if I can ever repay it in the slightest +degree, I will.’</p> + +<p>‘Hush, my dear! It was nothing. +Don’t speak of it now.’</p> + +<p>‘It was his <i>life</i>, Mr Courtney, and I +should not be his daughter were I unmindful +of it. I should have liked to +relieve you of the burden, now <i>he</i> is gone, +but I don’t know what I could do, without +friends, and in a foreign country. So +I will remain on (as you are good enough +to propose), and work among your plantation +hands, and do all I possibly can to +return your kindness to us both.’</p> + +<p>‘Lizzie, my dear, I don’t wish you to +think of it as if it were a favour. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> +obligation is quite as much on my side. +And you mustn’t speak of yourself as +friendless, either, my dear. You have +friends on all sides, I am sure of that. +You know what <i>I</i> feel towards you; and +here is Captain Norris, grieving only +second to myself for your loss; and every one +in San Diego loves and respects +you. You may take my word for that, +Lizzie.’</p> + +<p>Mr Courtney had risen, as if to take his +departure, whilst he spoke, and now stood +in the doorway, with his straw hat in his +hand, and beckoned her towards him.</p> + +<p>‘By the way,’ he added, in a lower +tone, ‘what do you intend to do about +that child, Lizzie?’ jerking his head towards +Rosa and the baby.</p> + +<p>‘What should I do about it?’ she returned. +‘I know no place to send it to. +It was in the charge of Mammy Lila, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> +she died of the fever. I suppose I must +keep it here.’</p> + +<p>‘Where are its parents?’ demanded the +planter inquisitively.</p> + +<p>‘It has none, Mr Courtney, or none +who will own it.’</p> + +<p>‘Dear me! That is very strange, and +very awkward. Who confided it to your +father’s care?’</p> + +<p>‘I am not at liberty to tell you, sir.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you know then?’</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment, and then +answered, in a husky tone,—</p> + +<p>‘Yes.’</p> + +<p>‘And you will not tell me, Lizzie?’</p> + +<p>‘I am bound under a solemn oath, Mr +Courtney, not to reveal anything about +that child, and I must beg of you not to +question me.’</p> + +<p>‘It looks bad for you, my dear, and may +be the cause of a great deal of future<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> +unhappiness. There are not so many +Europeans on the island that such an +event can occur without comment; and if +you persist in holding your tongue on the +subject, people <i>will</i> talk about it, and to +your disadvantage.’</p> + +<p>‘Then they <i>must</i> talk, Mr Courtney,’ +replied Lizzie boldly, though she had +turned very pale. ‘I cannot break my +promise to my father, for any consideration, +not even to save my reputation.’</p> + +<p>‘Lizzie,’ whispered the planter presently, +‘promise me at least to send the +child away. Let <i>me</i> send it away for you. +You don’t know <i>what</i> people are saying +about you. Even De Courcelles has heard +the rumour, and came to me for an explanation +of it. I will ask you no questions, +my dear, but let me help you in the +matter by sending the infant to one of the +sister islands. I cannot bear to think that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> +any one should dare to say a word against +you, for your father’s sake.’</p> + +<p>‘You are very kind, Mr Courtney, but I +have made up my mind on this subject, +and the child will remain with me. Sending +her away now to the care of a hireling, +will not remove the stain her presence +here has cast upon my character; and I +have reasons for wishing to bring her up +myself. If you object to it, I will relieve +you of the burden of both of us; but that +infant is my father’s last charge to me, and +I will keep it.’</p> + +<p>‘If you would only trust <i>me</i> with the +secret of its birth, I could fight your battle +with you,’ said Mr Courtney sadly.</p> + +<p>‘I will trust no one, sir. I have lost all +that I cared for in this world, through its +means, and I will at least have the satisfaction +of knowing that I have remained +true to myself.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>‘Very well, my dear; good-night; and +remember I am still your friend,’ replied +the planter, as he walked slowly away.</p> + +<p>Lizzie looked after him for a moment, +and then returning to the apartment, and +regardless of the presence of Hugh Norris, +she flung herself into a chair, and burst +into a flood of tears.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Still my friend!</i>’ she repeated. ‘Yes, +but a friend without any trust or confidence +left in me. Ah! what is the use of his +assurances? I can read his heart too +well! I have not a friend left in the +world.’</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i025.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i026a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i026b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="A"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">A</span>S she said the words, Captain +Norris sprang towards her.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Not a friend left in the +world</i>, Liz! Oh! how can you say +such a cruel thing whilst I am here?’</p> + +<p>She could not answer him immediately +for weeping, but she stretched +forth her hand and laid it on his arm.</p> + +<p>‘Forgive me, Captain Norris. I know +that you are my friend, but grief makes +us all selfish. Yet that they should think +such a thing of me,—that even Mr<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> +Courtney, who has known me from a +little child, should suspect me of so unworthy +an action, it is bitterly, <i>bitterly</i> +hard.’</p> + +<p>‘You are speaking in riddles to me, +Lizzie! Of <i>what</i> do they suspect you? +Surely of nothing of which you need be +ashamed? If so, they must answer to +<i>me</i> for it. Your dead father honoured +me with his friendship, and no one shall +insult his daughter whilst I am able to +prevent it.’</p> + +<p>‘I should have known that I might +count upon your championship, Captain +Norris; but it is useless. I have entangled +myself in a net from which I +see no prospect of freedom. You must +leave me to bear the consequences by +myself.’</p> + +<p>‘I shall do no such thing!’ replied the +Captain warmly. ‘What is the worth of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> +friendship if it cannot stand by you in +the time of need? Confide in me, Lizzie. +Tell me your trouble, and let us devise +a way out of it together.’</p> + +<p>‘We cannot do that,’ replied Lizzie +mournfully; ‘but you shall hear it, all the +same. If I did not tell you, San Diego +would soon do so. All the hands are +talking of it by this time. Even that +yellow girl in the verandah is ready to +believe me to have fallen to a level +with herself.’</p> + +<p>‘You alarm me!’ exclaimed Hugh +Norris. ‘What is it they dare to say +of you?’</p> + +<p>‘That that child is mine!’</p> + +<p>‘<i>What</i> child? I did not know there +was a child here.’</p> + +<p>‘You are the last to hear of it then,’ +replied Lizzie bitterly. ‘The smallest +lad on the plantation has discussed it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> +before now. I mean the infant which +Rosa has in her arms. It is <i>not</i> mine! +I hope you will believe me when I say +so. But I have no means of proving +the truth of what I say.’</p> + +<p>‘You surprise me beyond measure,’ +said Captain Norris. ‘In what does the +difficulty lie, and why cannot you appeal +to the real parents to help you out of it?’</p> + +<p>‘Captain Norris, you must not question +me too closely, lest I should betray a secret +I have sworn to keep. Be satisfied with +what I tell you. It was only yesterday +my father gave me that child to nurse +for him. He asked me to keep it through +the night, and in the morning he would +get a proper person to take charge of +it. You have heard the sequel. By +the morning, God had called him away, +and I am left with this burden on my +hands for ever!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>‘But, Lizzie, forgive me if I do not +follow you. What reason is there for +your keeping the child? What interest +had your father in it? Why should you +not send it to the people he intended to +entrust it to?’</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps I might have done so if this +suspicion had not fallen upon me; but +<i>now</i>, what would be the use of it? Absent +or present, the child will be regarded as +mine. I shall have to bear the stigma; +I may as well have the satisfaction of +knowing I have fulfilled my dead father’s +wishes.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you know who are the parents of +the child?’</p> + +<p>Lizzie was silent.</p> + +<p>‘I see that you do. Surely they will +never permit you innocently to bear this +awful shame?’</p> + +<p>‘Captain Norris, when my father first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> +showed me that child, he extracted a +solemn oath from me never to reveal +anything I knew or might guess concerning +it. It is useless your questioning +me. My tongue is tied, and whatever +my silence may cost me, I am bound to +endure.’</p> + +<p>‘But surely your lover, De Courcelles, +does not believe this slanderous lie about +you, Lizzie? <i>He</i> will stand up in your +defence, whatever the world may say, and +fight it with you?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, don’t talk of him! Don’t mention +his name!’ cried Lizzie, with a sudden +burst of grief. ‘He <i>does</i> believe it, +Captain Norris, and he has cast me off. +We are parted for ever. Our engagement +is at an end.’</p> + +<p>‘The cur!’ exclaimed Norris contemptuously.</p> + +<p>‘You shall not call him so! What else<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> +could he do?’ rejoined Lizzie hastily. +‘What would <i>you</i> do, if the woman you +had engaged yourself to marry, proved +to be a wanton? You would say she +was not fit to be your wife, and you +would be right. Until this stigma is +lifted off me, I am not fit to become the +wife of any honest man.’</p> + +<p>‘But it does not rest upon you, in <i>my</i> +estimation,’ replied her companion. ‘I do +not believe it; no one should ever make +me do so except yourself. I would take +your word against that of a thousand +witnesses, Lizzie.’</p> + +<p>‘Thank you, thank you!’ she exclaimed, +reddening with pleasure at the sound of +his honest voice. ‘You are indeed a +friend in the time of need. But Monsieur +de Courcelles thinks otherwise. He +has told me to my face that unless I will +divulge the names of the parents of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> +child, everything between us must be at +an end. And so it is at an end. I cannot +break my word to the dead. Besides—there +are other reasons why I should +be true to my trust.’</p> + +<p>‘You will at least tell me one thing, +Lizzie. You know to whom this child +belongs, do you not? I ask it in your +own interests.’</p> + +<p>‘I do.’</p> + +<p>‘Then go to them, my dear, and tell +them the dilemma in which the promise +you have given on their account has +placed you. Ask them to release you +from it. Surely no one could be so +inhuman as to desire their shame (for +I presume shame is at the bottom of +this mystery) to spoil the life of an +innocent woman? Oh! if I only knew +their names myself, I would proclaim +them far and wide, until I forced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> +them to release you from this cruel +bondage.’</p> + +<p>‘It is <i>impossible</i>, Captain Norris!’</p> + +<p>‘Impossible for you to go to them?’</p> + +<p>‘Impossible that my going could do +any good in the matter. I cannot rid +myself of the blame, without shifting it +on the shoulders of another, and that +my oath forbids me to do. Pray leave +me, Captain Norris. Leave me to bear +it as best I may—<i>alone</i>! You heard +what Mr Courtney has kindly proposed,—that +I shall live on here, and continue +my dear father’s work. I mean to do +so, and if God spares the child, it shall +live with me. The coloured people will +not despise us. They have too many +of such cases amongst themselves, and +for the rest, I am strong enough to suffer +without sinking under it.’</p> + +<p>‘But not <i>alone</i>, dear Lizzie!’ exclaimed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> +Hugh Norris, taking her hand. ‘If your +engagement to Monsieur de Courcelles +is indeed broken off, let me speak again. +You would not listen to me last week +on <i>his</i> account; listen to me now on your +own. Come to me, and let me fight the +battle of life for all three of us—you +and me and the child. If it were <i>really</i> +your child, Lizzie, I should say the same. +When I told you I loved you, I did not +mean that I loved some ideal creature +raised from my own imagination, but <i>you</i>—yourself, +with all your faults (if you +have faults) and follies (which cannot be +greater than my own), and am willing +to condone everything, for the privilege +of loving you. Let me try to make you +forget this sorrow. In England, amidst +new scenes and new friends, you may +learn to feel differently, even towards +me, and look back on San Diego as a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> +bad dream, that has passed away for +ever.’</p> + +<p>Lizzie pressed his hand gratefully.</p> + +<p>‘How good you are to me,’ she answered, +‘and how true! I am sure you +will make the best and most loving of +husbands, and some woman will be very +happy with you. But that woman will +not be <i>me</i>! I would not wrong you, my +dear friend, by accepting your generous +proposal. Why should I cast this +shadow over your honourable life, or +profess to offer you a heart not worthy of +your acceptance? I love Henri de Courcelles! +Ah! don’t shrink from me. I +know he is unworthy and unjust, nor +can I believe he has ever really cared +for me; but he managed to win my +love, and I cannot take it back from +him so suddenly. By-and-by, perhaps, +when this wound is somewhat healed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> +and time has enabled me to see more +clearly, I shall be strong enough to +shake off the fascination that enthralls +me; but just now, I can only weep +over its decay, as I weep over the grave +of my lost father. And so you see +how utterly unworthy I am of the noble +offer you have made me.’</p> + +<p>‘Not in <i>my</i> eyes,’ persisted Hugh +Norris. ‘I can never think of you but +as the dearest and most self-sacrificing +of women, and I shall keep the place +in my heart open for you to my life’s +end. But I will worry you no further +now. Only say if I can do anything for +you, Lizzie, before I go.’</p> + +<p>‘Nothing,’ she sighed. ‘Unless it be +to come to see me again, and comfort +me as you have done to-day.’</p> + +<p>His face brightened with pleasure at her +proposal, and he acceded to it joyfully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>‘I will come up to-morrow if it will +not be too soon,’ he answered. ‘I have +not landed my coolies yet, and the +<i>Trevelyan</i> may be in port for some +weeks yet.’</p> + +<p>‘How is that?’ demanded Lizzie.</p> + +<p>‘On account of this fever, and also of +the town riots. My consignee is afraid +of both moral and physical infection. +There was an attack planned on Government +House last night, and only just +discovered in time. The rebels had laid +a train of gunpowder right under the +state rooms. There would have been +a fearful sacrifice of life had they succeeded.’</p> + +<p>‘How terrible! Were they caught?’</p> + +<p>‘Unfortunately they were not, for they +got off to the Alligator Swamp as soon +as the alarm was given. And no one +dares follow them there: the danger is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> +too great. They are watching outside +it, however, and as soon as they come +out, they will be killed or arrested.’</p> + +<p>‘Poor creatures,’ said Liz, with a +shudder, ‘they will not be able to hold +out long. Twelve hours in the Alligator +Swamp is said to be certain death. Its +poisonous atmosphere kills all those who +escape the alligators. It is too fearful to +think of.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I fancy the poor devils will be +forced to surrender, and they will get +no quarter from the Governor, Sir +Russell Johnstone. He is in a great +state of alarm about himself, and resolved +to stamp the insurrection out at +any cost.’</p> + +<p>‘One cannot blame him. It is a case +in which the few must suffer for the +many. Is the Governor a nice man, +Captain Norris?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>‘So-so. A very ordinary-looking +Englishman,—more fit to till his own +acres, I should imagine, than to govern +a colony. He has certainly done little +as yet to quell the ill-feeling in San +Diego, which seems to be increasing +every day. But I shall not be able to +keep my coolies on board much longer. +There are six hundred of them, and I +shall not be sorry when their backs are +turned. I have had enough of their +company on the way from Calcutta.’</p> + +<p>‘But they will make a bad exchange, +I expect, from the hold of the <i>Trevelyan</i> +to the cotton and sugar plantations. I +have heard poor father say you spoil +your coolies, Captain Norris, and make +them quite dissatisfied with their reception +in the West Indies.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, that’s a libel!’ cried the young +man, smiling. ‘I may have tried to make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> +their life aboard ship as little irksome +as possible, but it has gone no further. +But I am afraid they are mostly shipped +under false pretences, and led to expect +less work and more pay than they +are ever likely to get in these islands. +Their existence, at the best, is hardly +worth living.’</p> + +<p>‘You are right there, and no one +who has dwelt amongst them, as I have, +could fail to sympathise with their +troubles. They have much to bear, +and little to compensate them for it. +And with all their faults, they are a +patient people, although very impulsive. +That poor girl in the verandah did me +a bad turn this morning, but she is +ready to break her heart about it now.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, Missy Liz, I’se <i>so</i> sorry!’ cried +Rosa, who had overheard the words +that concerned herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>‘But you can’t undo the mischief, you +see, Rosa, so try and make up for it by +being a faithful servant to your mistress +now,’ said Hugh Norris, as he passed +over the threshold on his way home.</p> + +<p>The yellow girl did not take correction +from a stranger very well. She +shrugged her shoulders, and pulled a +face after the retreating form of Captain +Norris, as she entered the bungalow with +her infant charge.</p> + +<p>‘What business of that Massa Norris +to speak me?’ she inquired, pouting. +‘If he want to scold some one, he’d +better go and find dat coolie girl Judy, +what took the baby first. She’s a berry +bad girl—rude and impident—with a +tongue as long as an alligator’s.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you mean Mammy Lila’s granddaughter?’ +inquired Lizzie. ‘When did +you see her, Rosa?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>‘Oh! she’s big enough to be seen, +Missy Liz, and she’s just as cunning +as they’re made. Judy has left Shanty +Hill now, and come to live alongside of +her own people, and dis morning Massa +Courcelles has given her work on the +plantation. And dat gal’s tongue—how +it <i>do</i> run!’</p> + +<p>‘About <i>me</i>, I suppose?’ said Liz +bitterly.</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Missy Liz—that’s just it—about +you. Judy tells every one how you went +up to Shanty Hill in the middle of the +night wid dis poor little baby in your +arms, and how you was so ill and weak +you nearly tumbled down on de floor; +and Mammy Lila took de baby, and you +tell her, “<i>Silence and secrecy</i>,” which +means, “Don’t tell nuffin to nobody on +your life.”’</p> + +<p>‘And every one believes it was my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> +own baby I took to Mammy Lila, Rosa, +the same as you did?’</p> + +<p>‘What <i>can</i> they believe, Missy Liz? +I didn’t know what to believe myself. +Dere’s not too many quite white babies +knocking about de island, you know, and +dis little one has no coloured blood in +it. Dat’s plain to be seen. And dat +Judy is so impident. She’d say anything. +She says she skeered you so +when she brought the baby back agin +when Mammy Lila died, dat you nearly +fainted, and it was de shock and de +trouble that has killed de poor Doctor +right away.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, well, Rosa, don’t speak of it +any more at present. It turns my heart +sick to hear it. Take the infant into +my room, and put it to bed. Judy’s +talk, however untrue, can do me no +further harm; and you mustn’t forget,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> +whilst judging her, that you thought and +said pretty much the same yourself.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, yes, Missy Liz; but den I’se +berry sorry, and I’ll be a good gal to +you now,’ replied Rosa, with the nigger’s +ready excuse for anything they may have +done wrong.</p> + +<p>‘And I believe you, so let the matter +rest,’ said Lizzie, as the yellow girl disappeared +with the baby, and she sat +down at the table, resting her head upon +her hand.</p> + +<p>What a difference twenty-four hours +had made in her life! Twenty-four hours +ago she had possessed a father who loved +her, a lover who respected her, friends +who believed in her, a good name and +a spotless reputation. Now, she seemed +to have lost everything at one fell blow. +Her father was gone, her lover lost, her +friends stood afar off. She was publicly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> +spoken of as an unmarried mother, and +Maraquita’s sin was laid at her door. +And she had no means of repudiating +the scandal. Nothing but her bare word +stood between her reputation and the +world. Who would believe her? What +woman would <i>not</i> deny such a crushing +shame?</p> + +<p>Her solemn oath to her father, the +fathomless obligation under which they +stood to Mr Courtney, the awful consequences +to their benefactor which must +follow a revelation of the truth, stared +Lizzie in the face, like giant obstacles +that forbid her even attempting to surmount +them. What would she and her +dead father have been but for the generosity +extended to them through life by +the planter’s hand?</p> + +<p>He, a felon and a convict, and <i>she</i>, +the daughter of a disgraced and dishonoured<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> +man, pointed at by the finger +of scorn, shunned by the community of +the virtuous and honest, a pariah and an +outcast amongst men. No wonder her +father had exacted her silence and obedience +at the price of her salvation.</p> + +<p>But would Maraquita be so untrue to +all the instincts of honour and justice as +to permit her adopted sister to continue to +bear the shame which rightly belonged to +herself? Liz remembered Hugh Norris’s +advice to her to seek out the parents of +the child, and beg them to clear her good +name in the eyes of the world. The +counsel was good. She only knew of +Quita as the mother of the infant; but +she could, at all events, secure an interview +with her, and implore her to confess +the truth to Mr and Mrs Courtney, and +relieve her from so intolerable a burthen. +Surely, thought Lizzie, if Quita knew what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> +she was suffering—and likely to suffer—she +could not have the heart to refuse +her! Little Quita, whom she had held +in her arms as a baby herself—who had +learned to walk clinging to her hand—who +had shared her girlish pleasures and +sorrows with her, and told her all her +secrets (except this last terrible one)—surely +<i>Quita</i> would never blast her whole +future in order to shield herself from the +consequences of her sin!</p> + +<p>Perhaps she did not know about Henri +de Courcelles! Liz had loved this man +too deeply to talk upon the subject; +and as the engagement had never been +publicly ratified, Quita might not be +aware of the cruel separation her guilt +had caused between them. If she knew +<i>that</i>—if she were told that some one +whom Liz loved as fondly as ever <i>she</i> +could have loved the father of her child<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> +must be given up for ever, unless she +spoke out—surely she would muster up +courage to remove the heavy load she +had laid upon her childhood’s friend.</p> + +<p>As Lizzie arrived at this conclusion, +she lifted up her head and breathed more +freely. A light was breaking through her +darkness. Perhaps, after all, she had condemned +her adopted sister too hastily, and +should have waited to see her before she +passed judgment. The time had been too +short, and events had been too hurried, to +enable Maraquita to do her justice. Perhaps +she was even ignorant of the blame +cast upon her; and with this last charitable +thought of her adopted sister, and a resolution +to see her on the first opportunity, +Lizzie sought her bed, and tried to compose +herself to sleep.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i049.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i050a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i050b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="M"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">M</span>ARAQUITA was lying in her +silken hammock, swinging under +the orange trees, and thinking +over the events of the last few days. +They had been important ones for her. +The unexpected death of the Doctor had +frightened her beyond measure, and more +than ever did she feel that Henri de +Courcelles owed it to her to make every +exertion in his power to remove the +proof of her shame from San Diego. +Until that was done, she should have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> +no rest. But she was very undecided +about Sir Russell Johnstone. She didn’t +wish to marry him—all her heart (such +as it was) was set on Henri de Courcelles—but +yet she wanted to be the +wife of the Governor of San Diego, and +certain hints from her mother had shown +her it would be the best, and perhaps +the only way, to get out of the scrape +she was in. And if she refused Sir +Russell Johnstone, it would be all the +same; her parents would never consent +to her marrying Monsieur de Courcelles.</p> + +<p>Maraquita tossed to and fro as she +thought over these things, and made the +hammock swing as far as its cords +would admit, till the orange blossoms +and their glossy leaves swept across her +face, and old Jessica, who was watching +from below as usual, called out to her +young mistress to take care. Quita was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> +trying to argue the matter out with herself +(as silly people will) so as to make +the pieces of the puzzle fit each other +and please everybody all round, being +too blind or too selfish, meanwhile, to +see that the only person she was really +bent on pleasing was herself. She believed +that in a very few days she would +be called upon to decide the matter, for +her mother had received a letter from +the Governor to ask if her daughter had +returned to the White House, but she +was hardly prepared, as she lay there +that morning, to see Sir Russell’s +barouche, with its pair of English +horses, and its outriders, dash up the +drive, and stop before the portals of +her home. She flushed so rosy at the +sight, that Jessica observed her emotion.</p> + +<p>‘Dat only de Governor, missy, come +to see Massa Courtney. De Governor’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> +a fine gennelman, isn’t he, missy? Got +beautiful coat and trousers and waistcoat +on, and fine whiskers, and nice red face. +Dat Government House a beautiful place, +too, and dat carriage lovely. I’d like to +see my missy in a carriage like dat, wid +fine English horses, and coachman, and +all.’</p> + +<p>‘What nonsense you are talking, Jessica,’ +said Quita querulously, as she +turned her head away. ‘Papa’s carriage +is quite good enough for me, and I +don’t want any other.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, but some day my missy marry +fine gennelman, and have everyting dat’s +nice and beautiful. Not one of dese +island fellers—overseers and such like,’ +continued the negress contemptuously, +‘with half de blood black in their veins, +but a real English gennelman, with +plenty money, and all white blood.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>Maraquita reddened, and yawned, and +turned pettishly away. She knew well +enough to whom old Jessica was alluding, +and she resented the hint as an +impertinence.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Sir Russell Johnstone had +rushed into the presence of Mr and Mrs +Courtney.</p> + +<p>‘Fancy, my dear sir,’ he was exclaiming, +‘that yesterday the police actually +discovered a train of gunpowder laid +right under the banqueting-room of +Government House! Had it not been +for their vigilance, at the next dinner-party +I gave, we might all have been +blown up—I, you, your wife, even your +lovely daughter. It is too horrible a +catastrophe to contemplate!’</p> + +<p>‘Horrible indeed!’ echoed his host. +‘But are you sure that all is now safe? +Has a thorough search been made?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>‘They tell me so, and that I need have +no further alarm. But it has shaken my +nerves, I can tell you that. And the +delinquents are not caught either, though +the native police are on the alert.’</p> + +<p>‘How is that?’</p> + +<p>‘They have escaped to the Alligator +Swamp; though why they can’t pursue +them there, beats me altogether.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, my dear Sir Russell,’ cried Mr +Courtney, ‘you don’t know what the +Alligator Swamp is like, or you would +not be surprised. Even a negro will not +venture to enter it, unless he is in fear +of his life. It is a regular morass of +green slime. It is impossible to tell at +each step you take whether you will sink +to the bottom of it or not; and it is infested +with alligators or caymen of the +largest and most ferocious breed. No +living creatures but the caymen could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> +breathe such an atmosphere; for the +green swamp raises poisonous fungi, the +vapours alone of which are almost certain +death. These wretches who have +plotted against your life cannot possibly +escape punishment. If they do not fall +into the hands of the police, they will +certainly die, the victims of the pestilential +atmosphere of the Alligator +Swamp.’</p> + +<p>‘I am glad to hear it,’ replied the +Governor, who was a short, stout man +of ordinary appearance, and with rather +a round and rosy face, ‘for I don’t consider +my appointment worth the risk of +being blown up. The island seems to +me to be in a regular state of rebellion, +and I don’t like it. If any more plots +against my safety are discovered, I shall +resign, and return to England. Her +Majesty would be the last person to wish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> +me to remain if there is the slightest fear +of danger.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, there must not be—there <i>shall</i> not +be!’ exclaimed Mrs Courtney pathetically, +as the pictures of a retreating Governor +and a lost son-in-law floated before her +mental vision. ‘These wretches must be +brought to judgment, and executed. I +would have them all hanged, if I were +you, Sir Russell. The idea of their +attempting such an outrage! Hanging +would be too good for them.’</p> + +<p>‘I am not sure if I <i>can</i> hang them; +but, if so, you may be sure I will,’ rejoined +the Governor. ‘Why, it makes a +man quite nervous of going to his bed. +It’s absurd—ridiculous—an insult to the +British Government!’</p> + +<p>‘It must be stamped out at any cost,’ +said Mr Courtney; ‘and until it is—until +things are more settled—if you would like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> +to vacate Government House for a little +while, and would accept the hospitality +of Beauregard, Sir Russell, why, all I +can say is, that everything I possess +(humble as it may be) is at your service.’</p> + +<p>‘But wouldn’t they say I had run +away?’ replied the Governor. ‘I should +like it above all things, but the papers +have been rather spiteful about me of +late, and I am afraid they would declare +I had shown the white feather.’</p> + +<p>‘But you must think of your own +safety—<i>that</i> is the first consideration, +surely!’ exclaimed Mrs Courtney. ‘And +you must think of others too, Sir Russell,—of +those who care for you. My poor +Maraquita will be in a fever of anxiety +as soon as she hears this news.’</p> + +<p>She had begun to be afraid that +his own peril had somewhat displaced +Maraquita from the Governor’s thoughts,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> +and the idea that he might even be +frightened out of San Diego without +fulfilling his promise, filled her with +alarm. She determined that if possible +the engagement should be ratified at once, +and then, if anything further happened +to frighten Sir Russell back to England, +he would be compelled to take his wife +with him. Her <i>ruse</i> had the desired +effect, and the mention of her daughter +turned the Governor’s thoughts in another +direction.</p> + +<p>‘Ah, the beautiful Miss Courtney. +Pray don’t think that I have forgotten +her, in the exercise of my functions. +To quell this native rebellion is the +first duty I owe to my Queen and +country, but my heart has been at the +White House, my dear madam, all +the time. How is your sweet daughter? +Have you told her of my proposal?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> +Is it possible I may have the great +pleasure of seeing her?’</p> + +<p>Mrs Courtney was not quite sure +what to answer. She glanced at her +husband, but he was standing with his +back to her, and would make no sign, +so she was thrown upon her own resources. +Yet she was a woman, and +when it is a matter of <i>finesse</i>, when +do a woman’s resources fail?</p> + +<p>‘She is better, dear Sir Russell—much +better, almost well, in fact, but +still weak, and unequal to any exertion. +I <i>did</i> try to approach the subject +of your most flattering proposal to +her on her return home, but her agitation +became so great, I was forced to +relinquish it. You must not condemn +her weakness. The prospect is a very +dazzling one to a simple and innocent +girl like our Maraquita.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>‘Do you mean to tell me, then, that +she is favourably disposed towards me?’ +inquired the Governor excitedly.</p> + +<p>It is true that he was a Governor, +and would perhaps have been somewhat +surprised at any woman in San Diego +refusing his suit. But at the same time +he was fifty years of age, stout, bald, +and past the age of romance, and it +was enough to make any such man +excited, to hear that a pure and lovely +girl of eighteen was ready and eager +to fly into his arms. He was quite +aware of the value of the position he +had to offer to the planter’s daughter, +but he was conceited enough to be +gulled into the belief that she could +actually fall in love with him, more than +with the advantages which a marriage +with him would entail. His rosy face +became rubicund with expectant pleasure,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> +and he already saw himself with +the most beautiful woman in San Diego +folded in his embrace.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Favourably disposed!</i>’ echoed Mrs +Courtney. ‘My dear Sir Russell, that +is not the word! Maraquita is overpowered +by the preference you have +shown towards her, only too shy to offer +you her timid girlish love in return. +She is so afraid she can give you nothing +worth the having in exchange for +your noble proposal to make her your +wife.’</p> + +<p>‘If she will give me <i>herself</i>, it is all +I ask,’ returned the Governor. ‘And +now, tell me, may I see her, and plead +my cause in person?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Sir Russell, one moment!’ cried +Mrs Courtney, hurriedly. ‘Let Mr +Courtney offer you some refreshment, +whilst I prepare our sweet girl for your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> +visit. You do not know how shy and +sensitive she is. The very mention of +marriage makes her blush. Let me go +to my child, and when she is calm +enough to receive you, I will return and +tell you so.’</p> + +<p>‘As you please, my dear madam, but +don’t try my patience too far. Mr +Courtney and I will have a cigar together, +and talk over our plans for the +future, whilst you are gone.’ And with +a courtly bow to his hostess, Sir Russell +let her leave the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs Courtney hastened at once to +Maraquita’s side. <i>Hastened</i> is not +exactly the word for the ungraceful +waddle which she used when she wished +to expedite her footsteps, but she walked +as fast as her unwieldy form would +permit her, to the shady spot where +Quita’s hammock swung under the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> +orange trees, and having dismissed +Jessica to the house, she entered at once +upon her subject.</p> + +<p>‘Quita, my darling, Sir Russell Johnstone +has come for your answer to his +proposal.’</p> + +<p>She was clever in her own way, this +half-educated, half-bred Spanish woman. +She knew that if she gave Quita time +to reflect, she would probably think of +a way out of the dilemma in which she +found herself, or consult her lover, and +be persuaded perhaps to elope with him, +and ruin her prospects for ever. She +had read enough of her daughter’s mind +on the first day she returned home, to +see that all her inclinations were opposed +to marrying Sir Russell Johnstone, +and if she were persuaded to +consent to it, it must be through <i>finesse</i>, +or an appeal to her ambition. What<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> +Mrs Courtney wanted now, was to hurry +Maraquita into accepting the Governor’s +proposal, and make her so far commit +herself that she could not back out of +it afterwards. And she had good materials +to work upon, for Maraquita was +a youthful copy of her mother, as vain, +and selfish, and indolent, and heartless, +and as fond of luxuries and the good +things of this life. But she was considerably +startled at hearing she had to +make up her mind so soon, and her +large dark eyes—so like those of a deer—opened +wide with consternation and +alarm.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, mother! Surely I need not give +him an answer to-day. It is so very soon. +I have had no time to think about it.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>No time to think about it!</i>’ echoed Mrs +Courtney; ‘why, the case is plain enough. +What thinking does it require? Sir<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> +Russell offers to make you Lady Johnstone, +and the mistress of Government +House. He has an income of many +thousands a year, and your father will +settle a handsome dowry on you if you +marry him. You will be the richest +woman, and the woman of highest rank, +in San Diego, and every soul in the island +will exclaim at your good fortune. What +more, in the name of Heaven, do you +want, Maraquita?’</p> + +<p>‘I am so afraid I sha’n’t love him,’ +sighed the girl, with a last remnant of +womanly feeling.</p> + +<p>‘Very well,’ exclaimed Mrs Courtney, +turning her back upon her daughter, and +professing to be about to leave her, ‘I +will go and tell Sir Russell, and at once! +He is waiting your answer, and I can’t +keep a Governor on tenterhooks for hours. +If you refuse him, he says he is going<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> +back to England by the next steamer, +and shall never return here, as he is sick +of San Diego, and will only stay on condition +you become his wife. But as you +won’t try to love him, it is of no use.’</p> + +<p>‘Stay, mother, stay!’ cried Quita +hurriedly; ‘don’t go just yet. Wait one +moment, and speak to me. Is it <i>really</i> +true that Sir Russell will leave San Diego +if I don’t marry him?’</p> + +<p>‘Didn’t I say so, Maraquita. He declares +that nothing shall make him stay; and if +he returns, it will be with a Lady Johnstone +to preside over Government House for +him. He will marry an English girl, and +you will have the mortification of seeing +some woman, with half your beauty, enjoying +all the advantages you have been +fool enough to refuse. Quita, I have no +patience with you.’</p> + +<p>‘But, mamma—mamma, I haven’t refused<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> +him. I don’t <i>mean</i> to refuse him! +If (as you say) I must make up my +mind at once, I <i>have</i> made it up! I +accept Sir Russell’s proposal, and you +can go and tell him so.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, my darling girl!’ exclaimed Mrs +Courtney effusively, ‘I was sure you would +see this grand prospect in its proper light +at last. How proud and delighted your +father will be to hear your decision. But +you must give Sir Russell his answer in +person, my love. You must let me bring +him here, and tell him yourself that you +will be his wife.’</p> + +<p>‘But I am not fit to see any one. I am +so untidy!’ cried Quita, jumping out of her +hammock, and standing before her mother.</p> + +<p>She was clothed in a long loose robe, of +saffron colour, with hanging sleeves, that +showed her white arms, and a belt that +spanned her slender waist. Her dusky<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> +hair lay in a rippling mass upon her +shoulders, and her fair face was flushed +with excitement, and perhaps regret. She +had never looked more lovely in her life, +and Mrs Courtney regarded her with +pardonable pride and admiration.</p> + +<p>‘You are charming, my dear! I will +not have you wait to make a single alteration +in your dress; and Sir Russell is so +impatient, that he will readily pardon the +negligence of your morning attire. He +knows you have been ill, and are disinclined +for much exertion. Sit down in +this chair, Quita, and I will bring him to +you in another minute. Oh, my dear +child,’ concluded Mrs Courtney, with a +close embrace, ‘how thankful I am that all +is about to end so happily for you! You +have half killed me by your thoughtlessness +and imprudence.’</p> + +<p>There were genuine tears in her mother’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> +eyes as she pronounced the words, and +Quita felt for the first time, perhaps, what +a terrible risk she had run.</p> + +<p>‘Never mind, mamma!’ she whispered, +‘it is over now, and <i>he</i>—he has promised me +that I shall never hear anything more about +it. Let us try and forget it ever occurred.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, my dearest girl, that is just what +you must do. Blot out the past, like a +hideous dream. It has been a terrible +experience for you, and so long as you +remained unmarried, I should always have +trembled for your safety. But now—as +the wife of the Governor, my dear child’s +future is assured, and we will never mention +the hateful subject again—not even to +each other.’</p> + +<p>‘No! and, mamma, you told me the +other day that (excepting for certain reasons) +you would have had some changes +made on the plantation. Couldn’t you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> +manage to have those changes made now. +Not too suddenly, you know, so as to +excite suspicion, but as if they were +brought about in the natural course of +events. Can’t you persuade papa,’ said +Maraquita, hiding her face in her mother’s +bosom, ‘to engage a—a—new overseer? +It would be better for all of us.’</p> + +<p>‘You are quite right, my darling,’ +whispered Mrs Courtney back again, ‘and +I am glad you have so much sense. +Trust me, dear, that you shall not be +annoyed in this matter. As soon as your +marriage is settled, I will take you up +on the hill range for change of air, and +before you return we will have done +what you suggest. I have a dozen good +reasons to give your father for engaging +some one else in that person’s place.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t be harsh with him,’ faltered +Maraquita; ‘remember that—that—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>But this was a dangerous topic, on +which Mrs Courtney did not choose to +dilate.</p> + +<p>‘I can remember nothing now, my +dear, except that Sir Russell is waiting +for your answer, and that I must go and +fetch him to you. Now, be a woman, +Maraquita! Think of all you owe to +yourself, and the brilliant future that lies +before you! I really believe I should go +out of my mind with grief if anything +happened to prevent it.’</p> + +<p>Mrs Courtney walked back to the +house as quickly as she was able, and +Maraquita lay in the bamboo chair, +with her eyes closed, and the unshed tears +trembling like dewdrops on her long dark +lashes. She had not to wait long! In +another minute her mother had returned, +in company with the Governor, and Quita +had to disperse the vision of her handsome<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> +Spanish lover, with his graceful form +and romantic bearing, and open her eyes +upon a stout and pursy little Englishman, +with a bald head and uninteresting features, +and legs too short for his body.</p> + +<p>But there was no mistaking the expression +of his beaming face, and the girl saw +at a glance that the matter had been concluded +for her, and she was already in +his eyes the future Lady Johnstone.</p> + +<p>‘My dear Miss Courtney—may I not +say my dear Maraquita?’ he commenced, +‘I cannot tell you how flattered I feel +by your kind acceptance of my offer, nor +how much I hope it will be the forerunner +of our life-long happiness.’</p> + +<p>He raised the hand she extended, +to his lips as he spoke, and she felt +compelled to reply, in a faltering +voice,—</p> + +<p>‘I hope it will—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>‘I won’t hear of any doubts about it,’ +exclaimed Mrs Courtney triumphantly. ‘I +feel <i>sure</i>, Sir Russell, that my sweet child’s +happiness is safe in your hands; and as for +yours—why, if the affection and duty of +a simple and innocent girl can secure it, +it will be as safe as her own. You must +not forget, my dear sir, that you have +chosen to honour a very young girl—almost +a child—with your preference, +and will, I know, make allowance for +any faults that may arise from ignorance +of the world and of society.’</p> + +<p>‘I know that I have chosen the loveliest +and sweetest girl in San Diego!’ +cried the Governor enthusiastically, ‘and +that it will be the aim of my life to surround +her with every luxury and pleasure +that I can afford; and as for her faults, +I shall never see any to make allowance +for.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>‘Oh, Sir Russell,’ replied Mrs Courtney, +in the same strain, ‘you must not +spoil my child! I know myself that her +chief fault is that which will mend every +day; still she is <i>very</i> young—there is no +denying that—and will often need a little +kindly counsel as to how she should act +in her high position.’</p> + +<p>‘She will only need to be herself, and +to act on her own impulses, to make the +most charming hostess that ever presided +at the Government House. But we have +not yet spoken of when the marriage +is to take place, Mrs Courtney,—and I +hope you will persuade Maraquita not +to keep me waiting too long.’</p> + +<p>‘You are very impatient,’ she replied, +smiling, ‘but you must not forget that +my dear child has been ill, and is still +very weak and fragile. Still, if you make +a point of it, I am sure neither Mr Courtney<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> +nor myself will stand in the way of a +speedy wedding.’</p> + +<p>‘But what will Miss Maraquita say?’ +demanded the Governor, bending over +her.</p> + +<p>‘My mother can decide for me,’ she +murmured faintly. ‘I have never disobeyed +you yet, mamma, have I?’</p> + +<p>‘Never! my dear, never! You have +been the best and most dutiful of +daughters, and deferred to your parents’ +wishes in all things—’</p> + +<p>But here the remembrance of certain +late events put a sudden stop to Mrs +Courtney’s eloquence, and she watched +the crimson blood that rose to Quita’s +cheek, in alarm. The girl was still weak: +it was dangerous to provoke an emotion +which she might find it impossible to +quell.</p> + +<p>‘But I think we have discussed this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> +exciting topic sufficiently for to-day,’ she +continued. ‘Maraquita is easily upset, +and I should be sorry to see her thrown +back again. Will you settle the knotty +question of the wedding-day with me, +Sir Russell, after you have finished talking +to my daughter? I don’t fancy you +will find there are many difficulties in +the way—but we must think first +of Maraquita’s strength, and how we +can restore it for the important occasion.’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly! that is the chief consideration,’ +replied Sir Russell; ‘what do you +propose to do about it?’</p> + +<p>‘I was thinking of taking her up to +the hill range for a week, to escape these +enervating land breezes. I think a little +change would do her more good than +anything else.’</p> + +<p>‘The very thing!’ exclaimed Sir Russell,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> +‘and you can have the use of the Government +Bungalow, and all that is in it. +When will you start? To-morrow? If +so, I will send word at once to have +everything in readiness for your reception. +Don’t trouble yourself about taking your +carriage and horses, mine will be there, +and at your entire disposal. And I trust +that after the rest of a day or two, Maraquita +will permit me to join your party, +and accompany her on her excursions in +search of health. I have an Arab pony +that carries a lady to perfection, and, with +your leave, I will send it up for her use. +What does my <i>fiancée</i> say? Does my +proposal meet with her approval?’</p> + +<p>‘She would be a very ungrateful girl, +and very hard to please, if it did not,’ +said her mother, answering for her; and +then perceiving that Quita’s self-command +was almost at an end, and that she was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> +on the point of breaking down, she added +playfully,—</p> + +<p>‘And now I am going to be hard-hearted +and carry you off, Sir Russell, for +my poor child is overcome with all this +excitement, and unable to bear any more +at present. Please be good, and return +with me to the White House; and if you +will call upon us again this evening, I +have no doubt she will be calmer, and +better able to thank you for all your kind +offers on her behalf.’</p> + +<p>The Governor rose at once (for he was +a gentleman, although he was ugly and +ill-formed), and took his leave. As he +did so, he stooped down and kissed +Maraquita on the cheek. It was not an +out-of-the-way thing for a newly-accepted +lover to do, but the salute, quietly as it +was given, seemed to sting her. She +did not resent it whilst her mother and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> +Sir Russell Johnstone were in sight, but +as soon as the doors of the White House +had closed upon them, she hid her face +in her hands, and burst into a flood of +tears.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i080.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i081a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i081b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="S"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">S</span>HE was still weeping quietly, +when the branches of the +orange tree which formed a +leafy bower around her, were parted, and +a voice exclaimed, with passionate intensity,—</p> + +<p>‘Maraquita!’</p> + +<p>The girl sprang to her feet without +any effort to conceal her tears. Henri +de Courcelles stood beside her.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, go!’ she implored, ‘go at once. +You don’t know the risk you are running.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> +My mother suspects us, and she may be +back in another moment. For <i>my</i> sake, +Henri, go.’</p> + +<p>‘Not unless you will tell me the cause +of your grief. Is it because this burden +is too heavy for you? If so, come with +me, and let us share it, and fight the +world together.’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot talk with you about it now, +Henri,’ replied Maraquita, with a look +of alarm; ‘it is impossible. You <i>must</i> +leave me. I see Jessica coming from +the house.’</p> + +<p>‘Then where will you meet me, for +I shall not rest until you have satisfied +my curiosity; besides, I have important +news for you about—it.’</p> + +<p>This intelligence made Quita change +her mind. She was intensely anxious +to have the assurance of her own complete +safety, and she could be cunning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> +enough where her inclinations were concerned.</p> + +<p>‘Have you done—what I asked you?’ +she gasped.</p> + +<p>‘I have made everything right, but +I cannot explain the matter to you in a +moment, nor where there is any fear of +our being overheard.’</p> + +<p>‘Wait for me in the oleander thicket, +then,’ cried Maraquita. ‘I will be there +in five minutes.’</p> + +<p>Henri de Courcelles nodded acquiescence, +and disappeared as old Jessica came +up to her young mistress.</p> + +<p>‘Missus Courtney send me to ask if my +missy like to have someting to eat and +drink now; and will missy come back to +de house, or will she have it brought out +here under de trees?’ asked the negress.</p> + +<p>‘Neither, Jessica. Tell mamma I am +not hungry or thirsty, only very sleepy,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> +and I want to be left alone for an hour +or two. I can call you when I wake.’</p> + +<p>‘If missy sleepy, better come and +sleep in house,’ urged Jessica. ‘So +many flies and ’skeeters about here.’</p> + +<p>‘I wish you would let me do as I +like, Jessica,’ said Quita, ‘and keep your +suggestions to yourself.’</p> + +<p>‘I’se very sorry, missy. I won’t say +any more, only stop here and keep off +de flies and tings from your face.’</p> + +<p>‘You’re enough to drive a saint mad!’ +cried Maraquita, stamping her foot. +‘Didn’t I tell you I wanted to be left +alone? What is it to you if I like flies +and mosquitoes buzzing about me? Go +back to the house, and don’t come near +me again till I give you leave.’</p> + +<p>The old nurse obeyed without a murmur; +but she <i>did</i> murmur, for all that. +The coloured people are very secretive,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> +and can assume an appearance of complete +innocence, all the time they are +cognisant of their employer’s most important +secrets.</p> + +<p>‘Ah! my poor little missy,’ muttered +Jessica to herself, as she shambled on +her bare flat feet towards the house, ‘you +think ole black nurse blind, but she see +too well. She know all about de baby +at Doctor’s bungalow, and who’s de fader +and moder of it, as well as you. And +she will see her little missy revenged, +before many moons is ober her head, into +de bargain. Cuss dat oberseer!’</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Maraquita, having watched +Jessica into the house, through the +branches of the orange tree, stole out +the opposite side, and, keeping well out +of view of the windows, took her way +towards the oleander thicket, which lay +between her home and De Courcelles’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> +bungalow. It was a wild patch of +flowering shrubs, densely planted together, +and forming a sufficient ambush +to conceal any number of persons from +the public gaze. There was a wooden +bench in one part of it, where Maraquita +and De Courcelles had often held their +moonlight trysts together; and there she +found him eager to tell his news, and +claim his reward.</p> + +<p>Quita sunk down upon the bench, and +trembled. She was not only weak from +her recent illness, but she dreaded the +scene which might follow the impending +revelation.</p> + +<p>‘You are far from well yet, my Quita,’ +said Henri de Courcelles, as he folded his +arms about her trembling form; ‘but I +have something to tell you which will +set your mind at rest.’</p> + +<p>‘Tell it to me quickly, then,’ rejoined<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> +Maraquita. ‘Have you sent it out of the +island? Are you <i>sure</i> I shall never hear +of it again?’</p> + +<p>‘No, I cannot quite promise you that,’ +replied De Courcelles, with an intuitive +disgust (even in the midst of his passion) +for her undisguised selfishness. ‘It has +never been in my hands, so it was impossible +I could form any plans for it. +But circumstances have fallen out so +fortunately, that I don’t see any chance +of suspicion falling upon <i>you</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘What do you mean? I don’t understand +you,’ said Quita pettishly. ‘If it +is to remain in San Diego, the secret +may come out any day, and my only +safety will be in leaving the island.’</p> + +<p>‘Wait a moment, dearest, and listen to +me. It seems that the day before the +Doctor’s death, he brought the child +home to his bungalow, where it now is—’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>‘With Lizzie? In the bungalow?’ +cried Quita, turning ashy pale. ‘Oh, my +God! then all is over, and I am lost!’</p> + +<p>‘Hush! hush! Maraquita. Nothing of +the sort. Liz refuses to say a word upon +the subject. <i>I</i> have questioned her narrowly; +so has your father; and all she +will answer is that before his death Dr +Fellows extracted a solemn oath from her +never to disclose anything concerning the +child, and that her lips are sealed.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, but it will come out; it is sure +to come out some day!’ exclaimed Quita, +weeping, as she wrung her hands in +abject fear. ‘You have ruined me, Henri! +You have destroyed all my future prospects! +I shall be branded for ever as +a dishonest woman!’</p> + +<p>‘But it is impossible! All the plantation—I +may say all San Diego—already +believes the child to be Lizzie’s own.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>Maraquita stared at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>‘They believe <i>that</i>! But what does +Lizzie say?’</p> + +<p>‘She can say nothing! Her lips are +sealed by her oath!’</p> + +<p>‘Some day the shame may prove too +hard to bear, and they will be forced +open.’</p> + +<p>‘It will be too late then to assert her +innocence. The world of San Diego is +quite convinced by this time that she is +the mother of the infant, and her attempts +to cast the blame on you will only appear +to be an impudent subterfuge. She has +no proof—or witness—to bring forward +in confirmation of the truth.’</p> + +<p>‘Poor Lizzie,’ said Quita, in a low voice, +visions of past kindnesses on the part of +her adopted sister, and of a faithful life-long +affection, floated before her mind, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> +made her tremble. Something—was it +the last effort made by her Good Angel +in her behalf—seemed to rise within her +heart, and prompt her to cry out that <i>it +must not be</i>, that she <i>could</i> not be guilty +of this dreadful wrong, and let her just +burthen lie on the shoulders of an innocent +woman. But then she remembered +the shame and the disgrace that would +ensue to her, and how her parents would +despise and reproach her, and Sir Russell +Johnstone would refuse to make her his +wife, and moral cowardice made her shiver +and remain silent.</p> + +<p>‘Ay! poor Lizzie,’ echoed De Courcelles. +‘I am really sorry for the girl; +but what can be done? It is a choice +between two evils. Either <i>she</i> must be +sacrificed, or my peerless Maraquita. Do +you suppose I could hesitate between +them? There is one thing to be said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> +however. Lizzie is not in your position. +She will not feel the disgrace so keenly +as you would. And, before long, Maraquita, +we may be able to relieve her of +her burthen.’</p> + +<p>Maraquita did not like the last allusion.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t see <i>how</i>,’ she answered lamely.</p> + +<p>‘Have you forgotten, then, what you +promised, when you asked me to assist +you to escape the inevitable blame of the +consequences of our mutual love,—that, if +your parents refused to sanction our marriage, +you would elope with me to Santa +Lucia, and not return until we were man +and wife in the eyes of the law, as we +are now in the eyes of Heaven?’</p> + +<p>‘But you have <i>not</i> done as I asked +you,’ she replied evasively. ‘I don’t see +that you have done anything. <i>It</i> is still +here, closer at hand even than I thought +it was, and (whatever you may say) liable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> +at any moment to be brought home to +my door. And there is another danger, +Henri. Mamma has discovered our secret—how, +I am unable to say, but she has +told me so pretty plainly, and also that +she will keep it only on one condition—’</p> + +<p>‘And that is—’</p> + +<p>‘That I accept the proposals of Sir +Russell Johnstone.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>You shall not!</i>’ cried her lover indignantly. +‘I will not stand by quietly +and see the woman I consider <i>my wife</i> +handed over to that bald-headed old +Governor. I will go straight up to +Mr Courtney sooner, and confess the +truth, and ask his pardon for what I +have done. Surely he would never +wish you to marry another man, if he +knew what has taken place between us. +And if he persists in dragging you to +the altar, I will tear you from your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> +bridegroom’s arms, and stab you to the +heart, before he shall claim what is +mine.’</p> + +<p>Quita’s star-like eyes dilated with +terror. She knew something of what +the Spanish and Creole blood is capable +of doing when roused, and foresaw +bloodshed—perhaps murder—if Henri de +Courcelles did not have his own way. +And yet, to give up the brilliant prospect +before her, in order to become an +overseer’s wife, and one whose maiden +reputation would be lightly spoken of, +seemed to be impossible. Why had +she ever entangled her feet in a net +which threatened to drag her down to +a life of obloquy and shame? To what +friend could she turn in her great need? +Suddenly the idea flashed across her +mind that she would confess everything +to her mother. Mrs Courtney already<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> +knew (or had guessed) the truth, and +counselled her daughter on the best +mode of escaping its results. She was +very anxious to see Maraquita Lady +Johnstone. If making a clean breast +of her secret brought a certain amount +of recrimination on her head, it would at +the same time secure her an ally with +whom to fight this terrible battle for a +name and a position in life. For the +first time hope and comfort seemed to +enter her breast. If her mother were +on her side, she felt she could defy +Henri de Courcelles, and Liz Fellows, +and the world. All their assertions +would be taken as impudent lies, and +only secure their own immediate banishment +from Beauregard. But, meanwhile, +her lover must be quieted and conciliated, +and Maraquita knew how to +do it full well. She had scarcely conceived<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> +the notion how to act in the +future, before her white arms were +wreathed about his neck.</p> + +<p>‘Henri,’ she cried, with her lips to his, +‘don’t speak to me like that! Don’t think +of such a thing, for Heaven’s sake! Do +you imagine that <i>I</i> would ever consent +to be placed in such a position, or +that any amount of tyranny would make +me marry a man against my will? Let +the worst come to the worst, dear; let +mamma tell my father of our intrigue; +it will only result in your having to +leave San Diego. Whether <i>I</i> shall be +able to go too, remains to be proved. +I am under age, you know, and if papa +chooses to lock me up, or send me to +England, I suppose he can. But even +<i>that</i> will be better than being forced to +marry a man I don’t love; and you +know that I shall always remember<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> +you, dearest, and think of the time +that is past, as the happiest portion of +my life.’</p> + +<p>Henri de Courcelles looked sullen and +suspicious. The clasping arms were very +sweet, and the ripe lips very tempting, +but there was a false ring in Quita’s +speech, which made itself apparent to his +senses, although his judgment could not +detect it. There was no fault to be +found with her words, yet they inspired +him with distrust, and he felt certain +that she was betraying whilst she kissed +him.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know what to think of you, +Maraquita,’ he said presently. ‘I suppose +you love me, in your way, but you +seem very ready to fall in with your +parents’ plans to get rid of me.’</p> + +<p>‘But what <i>could</i> I do, Henri, if my +father was determined to separate us?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> +Am I not completely in his power? +Our only chance appears to me to +lie in secrecy, and yet you speak as +if you would disclose the affair to all +San Diego.’</p> + +<p>‘And if I hold my tongue and remain +quiet, what then? You will marry Sir +Russell Johnstone before my very eyes, +and I shall have to grin and bear it.’</p> + +<p>‘We are the most unfortunate people +in the world’, sighed Maraquita, with +mock sentimentality.</p> + +<p>‘You mean that <i>I</i> am the most unfortunate +man in the world, ever to have +set my heart on a girl who doesn’t care +two straws for me. I can see through +you now, Maraquita. You were willing +enough to commit the sin, but you are +too great a coward to face the consequences +of it. You have deceived and +disobeyed your parents over and over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> +again, when it suited your pleasure to do +so, but when it comes to a question of +marrying the man you profess to love, +you take refuge behind the transparent +screen of filial duty and affection. I was +good enough for your lover, it appears, +but I am <i>not</i> good enough to be your +husband. You have higher views in +prospect for yourself, and I may go anywhere,—be +kicked out of my appointment, +and cast homeless on San Diego—what +does it signify to you, so long +as you become Lady Johnstone, and +have plenty to eat and drink, and a +spotless reputation. But it shall not be! +You have made yourself <i>mine</i>, and I +refuse to give you up. If you attempt +to become the wife of any other man, +whether in deference to your parents’ +wishes, or your own, I will blast your +name from north to south, till the commonest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> +fellow on the island would refuse +to give you his. Every black in San +Diego shall know <i>what</i> you are, a light +love, a false woman, and a heartless mother.’</p> + +<p>‘You shall not—<i>you dare not</i>!’ gasped +Maraquita, now thoroughly frightened.</p> + +<p>‘You shall see what I can <i>dare</i>!’ he +exclaimed wildly. ‘For I will take your +life and my own, sooner than give you +up to another.’</p> + +<p>And with that Henri de Courcelles +walked away, and left her sitting +there by herself. As soon as she was +convinced he was not coming back +again, Quita rose, and with trembling +steps walked slowly back to the White +House. He had succeeded in completely +alarming her. She had never +seen him like this before, and he was +terrible in his anger. His black eyes +had gleamed on her like polished steel,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> +and his hand had involuntarily sought +his side, as though ready to grasp an invisible +stiletto. Quita felt certain he +would be capable of any violence, if not +restrained, and fear lent her boldness. +She would secure one friend at least in +her extremity, and whatever it cost her +she would confide her trouble to her +mother. She found Mrs Courtney +alone in her own room, lying on a sofa, +with bare feet, and the last novel that +had reached San Diego in her hand. +But as she saw Maraquita enter the +chamber, she raised herself to a sitting +position.</p> + +<p>‘My dearest child! what is the +matter? You are looking quite ill again.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, mamma, mamma,’ cried Quita, +sinking at her mother’s feet, ‘I am so +unhappy!’</p> + +<p>And then, in a broken voice, and with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> +her face still hidden, she told the story +of her disgrace, and the danger which +appeared to threaten her.</p> + +<p>Mrs Courtney listened in silence. She +had suspected the cause of her daughter’s +illness, and the author of her ruin, but +she was hardly prepared to hear there +was a living witness to her shame domiciled +so close to Beauregard. Her naturally +sallow complexion turned almost livid +with horror, and her unwieldy frame +shook with agitation. And when the +girl had finished her miserable recital, +all her mother could utter was,—</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Maraquita, Maraquita, I couldn’t +have believed it of you!’</p> + +<p>‘Mother, don’t speak to me like that! +I know I have been very wicked, but +I have no friend but you, and if <i>you</i> desert +me, I shall be lost. Oh, mother, save +me this once, and I will do everything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> +you ask me in the future. You want +me to became Lady Johnstone, don’t +you? But you must think of some +means of stopping Henri’s tongue, or I +never shall be. I did not think he would +be so spiteful and revengeful! He says +he will stab me at the very altar.’</p> + +<p>‘That is all talk, my dear! he will do +no such thing! He shall be sent out +of Beauregard before a week is over his +head; and if he dares to assail your character, +your father shall have him punished +for it. But listen to me, Quita. There +is only one way to fight this scandal, and +that is to deny everything. Now, let +me understand you plainly. Are you <i>sure</i> +that no one but Dr Fellows and his +daughter knew the secret of this birth?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Quite</i> sure, mamma! The Doctor told +me so over and over again; and I don’t +think Lizzie knows <i>whose</i> baby it is—and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> +if she does, she has taken an oath never +to reveal it—and Lizzie will keep her +oath!’ said Maraquita, with complete +faith in the fidelity of her friend.</p> + +<p>‘There was no other person in the +house at the time?’</p> + +<p>‘No one, mamma.’</p> + +<p>‘Then your course is plain. Whoever +dares to mention this story to you, or at +whatever time it may crop up against you, +<i>deny it entirely</i>. Say you have never +heard of such a thing before, and you +are entirely ignorant how it could have +originated. <i>I</i>—as your mother—will +corroborate your statement, and we will +uphold our assertion before the world. +Lizzie Fellows is really the only witness +that can come against you, and she will +not break her promise, I am sure of that.</p> + +<p>‘As for that villain De Courcelles, your +father shall give him a summary dismissal,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> +and anything he may say in his rage will +be taken for revenge. He can <i>prove</i> +nothing. He has only his bare word to +give for it, and who would believe him +against your own parents? Meanwhile, +dearest, the sooner your marriage takes +place the better, and then you will feel +safe. But whatever you do, Maraquita, +never acknowledge your shame again, +even to De Courcelles. You never know +who may overhear it. Try to believe it +has never been, and then you will act as +though it had never been. As for marrying +your father’s overseer, it is out of the +question, and like his presumption to +dream of it. As if he hadn’t done you +harm enough already, without wishing to +hamper you for life! It’s like the unreasonable +selfishness of men. But you +may make your mind easy, my dear, +your mother will save you.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>‘Oh, mamma, how I wish I could +go away somewhere, and never see nor +hear anything of him again!’ sobbed +Maraquita.</p> + +<p>‘So you shall, Quita, if you will only +have a little patience. But cease crying +now, my child, or you will make yourself +ill. Lie down on my couch, and try to +go to sleep. I won’t let you leave the +house again until Monsieur de Courcelles +has quitted the plantation.’</p> + +<p>And with a kiss of forgiveness, Mrs +Courtney left her frail daughter to repose.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i105.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i106a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i106b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="T"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">T</span>HE next morning Liz was walking +up the avenue of orange +trees that led to the White +House, with her eyes fixed upon the +ground, and her brow wrinkled with perplexity. +After many hours of painful +deliberation, she had come to the conclusion +to take the advice of Captain +Norris, and beg Maraquita to relieve her +of the intolerable burden of shame she +bore for her sake; but <i>how</i> to accuse her +adopted sister of her sin, troubled her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> +beyond measure. She felt so deeply for +her youth and betrayed innocence. Such +a well of divine compassion for the injured +girl was mingled with her own +horror of the deed, that she scarcely knew +whether she should feel most inclined to +commiserate with, or to blame her. Liz +pictured Quita to herself writhing on +the ground for very shame at the discovery +of her weakness, bright-eyed, dusky-haired +Maraquita, who had always seemed +so much to be envied and admired, prostrate +in her humiliation, and her generous +heart bled in anticipation of her sister’s +pain. She conned over and over again +the words in which she would break the +truth to her, trying to make them as +tender and little accusing as she could. +She would endeavour (she thought) to +first gain Quita’s confidence, and then to +make her understand that, if she would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> +only do what was just, in confessing the +truth to her parents, Liz would be her +friend, and the friend of her little daughter, +to their lives’ end. But what she was +about to ask of Quita was a very serious +thing, and she doubted if the girl’s strength +of mind would carry her through it.</p> + +<p>She did not ring for admittance when +she reached the White House. She had +been accustomed to enter and leave it as +she chose, and experienced no difficulty +in finding her way at once to the chamber +where Maraquita spent most of her morning +hours.</p> + +<p>This was an apartment adjoining her +bedroom, and furnished more with a view +to the repose which is so essential in the +torrid climate of the West Indies, than +to the pursuit of any active work. Its +French windows, opening on the garden, +were shaded by green jalousies,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> +through which the luxuriant creepers +thrust their tendrils and their leaves; the +marble floor was strewn with plaited +mats of various coloured straws; the furniture +consisted of a couple of bamboo +lounges and a marble table, on which +stood a silver tray bearing fruit and +cooling drinks. The only ornaments it +contained were a large mirror and a +couple of handsome vases filled with +roses. Everything about the room was +conducive to coolness and repose; and +Maraquita, attired in white muslin, with +a palm leaf in her hand, and stretched +full length on one of the couches, with +her eyes half closed, was a personification +of the goddess of Sleep or Indolence, or +perhaps both.</p> + +<p>She started, and coloured slightly as +Liz slipped into the room through the +verandah. Her last conversation with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> +Henri de Courcelles was in her mind. +She had been thinking of it as Liz entered, +and a secret intuition made her +feel that her adopted sister would allude +to the subject. A craven fear took possession +of her, and made her heart beat +to suffocation; but only for a moment. +The next she had remembered her +mother’s caution and promised championship, +and had resolved to carry out her +advice (if necessary) to the very letter. +As she sank back upon her couch, Lizzie +advanced towards her with affectionate +solicitude.</p> + +<p>‘Have I startled you, Quita? I hope +not. It seems so long since we met; +and so much has happened since then, +that I felt I must come up and see you +to-day. How are you, dear? Quite +strong again?’</p> + +<p>As she sat down by the girl’s side,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> +and laid her hand tenderly upon her +arm, Quita turned pettishly away.</p> + +<p>‘That is rather a silly question for a +lady doctor to ask me, Lizzie. How +can I be quite strong again after such +a nasty attack of fever? I am as weak +as I can well be, and mamma is going +to take me up to the hill range to-morrow +or next day for change of +air.’</p> + +<p>‘I am glad of that, dear. It will be +the best thing for you, for you must have +suffered much, my poor Quita, I am sure, +both in mind and body.’</p> + +<p>Quita did not like this thrust, but she +parried it bravely.</p> + +<p>‘Well, I <i>did</i> suffer with the fever, as +you know, and the only wonder is that +it didn’t kill me, as it has done so many +of the coolies. It was your poor father +who saved my life. And then that <i>he</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> +should go himself! I have felt that +terribly, Liz. I was very fond of him. +He was like a second father to me, and +his sudden death has cut us all up, as +well as you.’</p> + +<p>There were tears in Maraquita’s voice +as she spoke, which brought the kindred +drops welling up to Lizzie’s eyes, and +for a few moments the girls wept together +as for a common loss.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Quita,’ said Liz, as soon as she +could speak calmly again, ‘I know that +you and your father and mother have felt +for me in my trouble, for, kind as you +have been to us, you can never realise +the depth of it. My father was my world. +He stood between me and every anxiety, +and now that he is gone, I feel as if +I stood alone, the centre of a storm +of suspicion, and accusation, and reproach.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>Maraquita paled under this allusion, +but she felt obliged to say,—</p> + +<p>‘What do you mean?’</p> + +<p>‘Can you ask me, Quita?’ exclaimed +Liz suddenly. ‘Is it possible that the +rumours that are afloat concerning me +have failed to reach your ears? Mr +Courtney told me that he had heard +them. Surely he repeated them to you.’</p> + +<p>‘No, papa has told me nothing, and I +don’t know what rumours you allude to,’ +replied Quita; but had the room not been +darkened to shut out the morning heat, +Lizzie must have seen the crimson blood +that rushed to her face with fear of what +was coming.</p> + +<p>‘Then I must tell you,’ said Lizzie, +drawing nearer to the couch, while she +looked cautiously about the room to be +sure that no one was within hearing. +‘Indeed I came up here this morning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> +expressly to tell you, for the burden of +secrecy and shame is more than I can +bear.’</p> + +<p>Whilst Lizzie beat about the bush, as +though afraid to mention the forbidden +topic, Quita had felt timid and constrained, +but now that she seemed prepared +to speak out, the defiance that is +born of fear entered the younger girl’s +breast, and emboldened her to say or do +anything in the defence of her honour.</p> + +<p>‘What secrecy? What shame? What +have you been doing, Lizzie?’ she exclaimed, +with well-feigned surprise. ‘You +talk in riddles to me to-day.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, you have heard nothing, Quita. +I can see that. You do not know the +terrible duty that has been laid upon me. +But turn your face this way, dear, and +let me whisper to you. Don’t mind what +I may say, Quita. Remember that I am<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> +your sister, who has known you from +a baby, and that I sympathise with and +feel for you in any trouble or sorrow you +may have to endure. You remember the +night you came to our bungalow?’</p> + +<p>‘I remember the night I was <i>told</i> +I went there, Liz; but I was half delirious +with the fever, and can vouch for +nothing myself.’</p> + +<p>‘I can well understand that you +were half crazy with fear and pain, +dearest, but it was not the fever that +made you so.’</p> + +<p>‘The Doctor said it was the fever,’ +argued Maraquita, with wide-open, innocent +eyes. ‘He told papa and mamma +so.’</p> + +<p>‘I know he did, for <i>your</i> sake, and +that they believed it. He extracted a +solemn oath from me at the same time, +never to reveal what I might see or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> +hear that night. And I never <i>have</i> revealed +it, Quita, and I never <i>will</i>. It +shall lie hidden in my heart until my +death. Only <i>you</i> must help me to bear +it, or I shall die.’</p> + +<p>Lizzie was sobbing now, though very +quietly, behind the shelter of her hands, +whilst Maraquita lay on the couch +silent but pondering what she would say.</p> + +<p>‘Speak to me,’ cried Lizzie presently. +‘Say something, for God’s sake, and +put me out of my pain.’</p> + +<p>‘What am I to say?’ replied Maraquita. +‘You frighten me when you +talk like that. Has anything terrible +happened since your poor father’s death, +and how can <i>I</i> help you out of it?’</p> + +<p>‘I will tell you what has happened,’ +said Lizzie presently. ‘Mammy Lila +is dead, and the child is with me, and +every one is talking about it, and saying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> +it is mine. What am I to do, Quita—what +<i>am</i> I to do? I cannot speak, +because my lips are closed by the oath +my father made me take; and if I <i>could</i> +speak, do you think I would betray +my dearest friend? And can I send +it from me—the poor, helpless, tender +little creature who has no one to look +after it and love it but myself?’</p> + +<p>‘But whose child is it?’ inquired +Maraquita, with her dark eyes fixed +full on those of her adopted sister.</p> + +<p>Lizzie regarded her for a moment +in silent consternation. Was it possible +that Quita was in ignorance of her +child’s birth, and had her late father +managed so skilfully as to keep her +unaware of what had happened? Such +things <i>had</i> been. But the next minute +Liz had rejected the idea with scorn. +At any rate Maraquita must have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> +known what lay before her when she +found her way to the Doctor’s bungalow, +and if she affected ignorance now, +it was only because she was unaware +that Lizzie knew the whole truth.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Maraquita,’ she exclaimed, ‘don’t +be afraid of confessing it to me, for +I know everything! My father was +obliged to confide in me. He could +not have managed without my assistance. +But my oath seals my lips to +all the world but you. But is it right +to keep such a secret from your father +and mother, especially when doing so +involves the ruin of any other woman? +You don’t know what the charge of +that little infant has brought upon me? +Even Mr Courtney suspects my honesty. +And as for Monsieur de Courcelles—’</p> + +<p>‘What has Monsieur de Courcelles to +do with it?’ cried Quita hastily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>Lizzie coloured. She had never spoken +of her relations with Henri de Courcelles +to Quita before, but this was no time to let +feeling get the better of justice.</p> + +<p>‘He has everything to do with <i>me</i>,’ she +answered, in a low tone. ‘Quita, I have +never told you before, that I am engaged +to be married to Monsieur de Courcelles.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>You</i>—engaged to be married—to +<i>Henri</i>? Oh, it is not true! You are +deceiving me!’ exclaimed Quita, as she +sprang to a sitting position, and turned a +face of ashy pallor to her companion.</p> + +<p>But Lizzie suspected no more than she +saw. She only thought that Quita was +astonished that she should have been kept +in the dark with regard to so important +a subject, and hastened to defend her own +conduct.</p> + +<p>‘Indeed, it <i>is</i> true! I daresay you are +surprised that I should not have told you,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> +Quita (for I have told you almost everything), +but I have felt so deeply about it, +that I <i>could</i> not speak; and our engagement +has never been made public, though +it has lasted over a year.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>You</i>—engaged to <i>Henri de Courcelles</i>!’ +repeated Quita incredulously.</p> + +<p>‘Yes! Although he has broken it off, of +his own accord, and left me, I cannot feel +that I am free from him. For I love him, +Quita. I love him with my whole heart +and soul. I did not think it was in me to +love any creature as I love him. And +since we have parted, I have been unable +to sleep, or eat, or drink, for longing after +him,—longing, above all things, to clear my +character in his eyes, even though I never +saw him afterwards. Oh, Quita, I must, +I <i>must</i> do this! To live on letting him +think me false and frail, will kill me! +If you will not help me out of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> +awful dilemma, my death will be on your +head.’</p> + +<p>But the news she had just heard had +hardened Maraquita’s heart. All the love +she was capable of feeling had been given +to De Courcelles, and if he and Lizzie had +combined to deceive her, why they might +suffer for it. That was all she thought of, +as she clenched her teeth upon her upper +lip, to prevent her betraying her emotion.</p> + +<p>‘Maraquita! won’t you save my love to +me?’ wailed Lizzie. ‘All I ask is to +clear my name in the eyes of Henri +de Courcelles, and then the rest of the +world may think and say what they +choose.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t in the least understand what +you are driving at,’ replied Maraquita. +‘What can <i>I</i> do to make up your quarrel? +Monsieur de Courcelles and you are both +old enough to look after yourselves. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> +he won’t believe you, he is not likely to +believe <i>me</i>.’</p> + +<p>‘But I cannot speak—my lips are sealed,’ +cried Lizzie wildly; ‘and he will not accept +my word, instead of an explanation. Don’t +you understand me, Quita? Henri has +heard this scandalous report about the +child, and believes it to be mine. He +demands the name of the mother, and no +one but you can satisfy him. Oh, Quita, +release me from this awful vow, that +threatens to ruin my character and blast +my whole life! Think, dear—is it fair +that I should lose everything I love and +value most, because of your fault? Be +brave and generous enough to share the +blame with me, and I promise you before +God that it shall never go any further.’</p> + +<p>Maraquita sat straight up on her couch, +and stared at her adopted sister.</p> + +<p>‘What do you want me to do? Speak<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> +plainly, for I do not comprehend your +meaning.’</p> + +<p>‘I want you to tell your parents what +you have done. They will pity, and love, +and forgive you, Quita, as I do. They +will feel it was your youth and ignorance +that were at fault, and not your heart; +and you will feel happier, my poor sister, +when your mother has shared your secret, +and forgiven it. I want you to tell Mr +and Mrs Courtney that the child in my +bungalow is yours.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>What!</i>’ cried Quita shrilly. ‘You +want me to tell a lie in order to screen +yourself?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>A lie!</i>’ repeated Lizzie. ‘You know +it is not a lie; you know when you came +to us that night that you were delivered +of a daughter, and that my poor father +took charge of it for you. Oh, Quita, +if you could see her,—her little waxen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> +hands and feet, her wistful dark eyes, so +like your own, and her tiny mouth, which +just begins to smile, your mother’s heart +would yearn to claim her for your own!’</p> + +<p>For one moment Quita trembled at +the picture Liz had conjured up, but +the next, fear of ruining her own prospects +crushed the softer feeling in her +heart.</p> + +<p>‘I deny it!’ she exclaimed loudly. ‘I +deny every word you have uttered. You +are either mad, or you mistake me for +some other woman. How <i>dare</i> you insinuate +that I have ever had a child?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>You deny it!</i>’ echoed Lizzie, rising +to her feet. ‘You can actually look me +in the face, and deny it, Quita?’</p> + +<p>‘Most emphatically I do, and resent +the insult you have laid upon me. I +know nothing about the child which is +in your bungalow. It may be yours, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> +any other woman’s, but it certainly is not +<i>mine</i>; and if my parents heard you had +accused me of such a dishonour, they +would turn you from their doors!’</p> + +<p>‘What is all this about?’ exclaimed +Mrs Courtney, as she entered the room. +‘Lizzie, you ought to know better than +to let Maraquita excite herself with talking, +when she has scarcely recovered +from her late illness. She will have a +relapse, if we do not take care.’</p> + +<p>She had heard from Jessica that the +Doctor’s daughter had entered the house, +and, fearful of what she might have come +to say, had hastened to the rescue of +her daughter. Lizzie stood before her, +silent and confused, but Quita appealed +to her mother’s protection at once.</p> + +<p>‘Mamma, just hear what Lizzie has +told me. She says there is a baby at her +bungalow which was left in the charge of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> +her father, and she accuses me of being +the mother of it, and wants me to tell a +lie to you and papa, in order to screen +herself from suspicion.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Lizzie</i> accuses <i>you</i> of being <i>a mother</i>!’ +exclaimed Mrs Courtney, with well-acted +surprise. ‘Oh, it is <i>impossible</i>! Quita, +you are dreaming!’</p> + +<p>‘Tell mamma if I am dreaming, Lizzie! +Repeat to her what you said just now.’</p> + +<p>‘I shall do no such thing, Quita! I +said what I did to you in confidence, and +I refuse to repeat it to any one.’</p> + +<p>‘Because you know how mamma would +resent such a foul calumny. Oh, mamma,’ +continued Quita to her mother, ‘what +have I ever done to be accused of such +a dreadful thing? What would Sir +Russell say if he heard of it?’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot believe my ears,’ said Mrs +Courtney. ‘Do I hear aright, Lizzie,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> +that you have <i>dared</i> to link my daughter’s +name with such a shameful story? What +induced you to do it? Speak! I must +have an answer.’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot speak, Mrs Courtney; I have +nothing to say.’</p> + +<p>‘Because you know yourself to be +guilty. Don’t imagine that we have not +heard the scandal that is abroad concerning +you. But I little thought you would +have the audacity to try and throw the +blame upon my poor Maraquita, she who +has been like a sister to you.’</p> + +<p>‘I have never denied the benefits which +I and my poor father have received from +your family, Mrs Courtney, nor been ungrateful +for them.’</p> + +<p>‘And what do you call your conduct +of this morning, then? You have deceived +us all, Lizzie,—Mr Courtney, myself, +and your poor father. We thought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> +you a pure and good girl, or you never +would have been allowed to associate with +my daughter.’</p> + +<p>‘I <i>am</i> pure,’ interposed Lizzie, with +the indignant tears standing on her hot +cheeks. ‘I have done nothing to make +you regret the favours you have shown +me.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, don’t speak to me like that, Lizzie, +when you know that you are the mother +of a child which you dare not own.’</p> + +<p>‘I am not! I am <span class="allsmcap">NOT</span>!’ cried the girl, +half choked with her emotion and sense +of impotency to resent the charge made +against her.</p> + +<p>‘And I say you <i>are</i>,’ continued Mrs +Courtney, ‘and all San Diego says it +with me. And, not content with degrading +yourself, you would try to degrade +<i>my</i> daughter also. Shame upon you! +Is this your gratitude? You who, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> +for our bounty would have been pointed +at all your days as the daughter of a +felon, who have now lowered yourself +beyond the ordinary level of your sex.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mrs Courtney, say what you like +to me, but spare the memory of my dead +father!’ cried Lizzie, through her sobs.</p> + +<p>‘If I have not spared it, you have only +yourself, and your own conduct, to blame. +I have been very good to you hitherto, +Lizzie, but I can be so no longer. You +have raised a barrier between us with +your own hand. For the sake of his +old friendship for your father, Mr Courtney +wishes you to remain on the plantation, +but you are no fit companion for +Maraquita, and from this day you must +consider the doors of the White House +are closed against you.’</p> + +<p>‘You will not find me attempt to +alter your decision, Mrs Courtney. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> +came up here this morning to ask +Maraquita to do me a simple act of +justice, but she has refused it, and I +can no longer look upon her as my sister +and my friend, nor shall I have any +wish to seek her society.’</p> + +<p>‘Insolent!’ exclaimed Mrs Courtney. +‘Why, under no circumstances would +you be permitted to do so. Maraquita +is engaged to be married to the Governor +of the island, Sir Russell Johnstone. +In a few weeks she will be reigning at +Government House, and will receive +no lady there who cannot vouch for +the possession of an unspotted reputation. +So now perhaps you will see +the harm you have done yourself by +your impudent attempt to forge off your +own error upon her.’</p> + +<p>‘It would have made no difference to +my behaviour, madam, if Maraquita<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> +had already been the Governor’s wife. +The blameless burden laid upon me +still remains, and she will not lift it by +the raising of her little finger. I suppose +it is my fate to suffer and be +silent. But I think the time will come +when Quita will be sorry she had not +more pity for me to-day.’</p> + +<p>‘Mamma, mamma,’ cried Quita hysterically, +‘tell her to go! I can bear +no more of her reproaches. It is wicked +of her to speak like that. You know +that I have done nothing; but if such +a story were to come to Sir Russell’s +ears, it might ruin me for ever.’</p> + +<p>‘It shall <i>not</i> come to his ears!’ exclaimed +Mrs Courtney angrily; ‘and if +you attempt to repeat it, Elizabeth +Fellows, I will have your name, and +your dead father’s name, branded from +one end of San Diego to the other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> +until not a soul in the island shall speak +to you. See if I do not.’</p> + +<p>‘You will never have the opportunity +to carry out your cruel threat, madam. +I have told your daughter, and I tell +you, that my vow of secrecy to my beloved +father is sacred, and nothing shall +make me break it. From this hour, I +shall never mention the subject to any +living creature again.’</p> + +<p>And with those words Liz turned on +her heel and walked out of the White +House. As she disappeared, Maraquita +threw herself into her mother’s arms in +a burst of tears.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, I am lost—I am lost!’ she cried, +trembling with fear. ‘We have made +her angry, and she may go and tell the +story everywhere, from revenge. How I +wish I had never seen De Courcelles. +It was wicked of him to take advantage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> +of me like that. And all the time he +was engaged to be married to Lizzie. +Oh, mother, I hate him—<i>I hate him!</i> +I wish that he was dead!’</p> + +<p>It is the proof of an ephemeral and +fancied passion that directly misfortune +or peril comes upon it, it turns to reproaching +and dislike. There is little +need to say that Maraquita’s love for +Henri de Courcelles was founded on a +basis of self-esteem. Had it been otherwise, +their mutual error would have made +her cling all the closer to him as her one +haven of safety.</p> + +<p>‘If he <i>is</i> engaged to her, my dear,’ +replied Mrs Courtney, with a view to +consolation, ‘so much the better. They +are a very suitable pair, and their marriage +would rid you of a troublesome +suitor. I have heard something of it +before, but subsequent events made me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> +think I was mistaken. But I don’t like +Monsieur de Courcelles. I consider him +a dangerous enemy, and should be glad +to know that he had settled down in life.’</p> + +<p>‘But you <i>promised</i> me that papa should +send him away from Beauregard,’ said +Quita fearfully.</p> + +<p>‘And so he shall, my love, as soon +as ever we are on the hill range. You +may rest assured of that. Only we have +no power to send him out of San Diego, +and he may prove troublesome to us +yet. However, I have my own story to +tell papa, and it is one that will provide +against any emergency. But the first +thing to be done, Quita, is to get you +away; and the next, to make you Lady +Johnstone. Then we shall be perfectly +safe.’</p> + +<p>‘You will take care that no one else +comes in to see me to-day,’ said Quita<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> +languidly, ‘for I feel quite worn out by +the annoyance I have undergone?’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly, my dearest girl. Jessica +shall see that you are not disturbed. And +now try and sleep, Quita, and don’t be +afraid that there will be any repetition of +so disagreeable a scene. I think I have +let Miss Lizzie have a piece of my mind, +and that she will see I mean what I said. +Depend upon it, my dear, that no ill-natured +stories or repetitions can ever +harm you in the future. The girl is too +honest to break her word; and if she +suffers a little from keeping it, she deserves +as much, for her mean attempt to coerce +you. Now, you must promise me to think +no more about the matter.’</p> + +<p>Maraquita gave the required promise, +because she wanted to be left alone; but as +she lay in the silent and shaded room, the +description that her adopted sister had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> +given her of little waxen hands and fingers, +of two dark wistful eyes, and a baby mouth +beginning to smile, recurred again and +again to her, until something very like +the longing of motherhood stirred in her +bosom, and made her sob herself to sleep.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i136.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i137a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i137b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="L"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">L</span>IZ FELLOWS went home that +day sadder than she had been +before. Her lover’s defalcation +had been a natural sequence to the misfortune +that had overtaken her, compared +to this. He had judged her harshly, and +without proof, but he at least believed (or +she thought he did) that she had been +untrue to him, and his anger and contempt +were those of a dishonoured man. But +Maraquita’s conduct admitted of no such +palliation. She <i>knew</i> better than any one +else, that Liz was innocent of the charge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> +laid against her, and yet she could coolly +deny the fact, and appeal to her mother to +join her in turning her adopted sister from +their doors. She could shield herself behind +the humiliation of her friend,—deny +her maternity, and delegate her sacred +duties—her most holy feelings—to another +woman.</p> + +<p>‘Feelings! Duties!’ Liz stamped her +foot impatiently, as the terms occurred to +her mind. Maraquita <i>had</i> no feelings, and +recognised no duty. She was lower than +the feeble little animals, who would die +sooner than desert their young. She had +brought a helpless infant—presumably the +infant of her lover—into the world, and +would not even acknowledge it was hers. +<i>Who</i> was the father of this child, thought +Liz, that he could stand by quietly and +see the desertion of his offspring? Had +<i>he</i> no natural instincts, any more than the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> +partner of his sin? Would they <i>both</i> +leave their infant to the tender mercies +of the world, whilst they went their own +ways—one, to be married to the Governor +of San Diego—the other, Heaven best +knew where? Well, she had staked her +last chance, and lost it. Henri de Courcelles +would never now receive the proof +of her innocence. He was lost to her for +ever, and she must bear the burden of +shame laid upon her guiltless head as +best she might. As she re-entered the +bungalow, a wail from Quita’s hapless +infant smote her with compassion.</p> + +<p>‘My poor little orphan!’ she exclaimed, +as she took it in her arms. ‘You are +an outcast as well as myself. You have +no parents worthy of the name, and I +shall never know the joy of being a +mother. We must comfort each other +under this great calamity as best we may.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> +They say you are my little daughter, and +since they say so, I almost wish you +were. But I will love you like a daughter, +and teach you to love me like a mother, +and so you shall comfort my bruised +heart, and I will try and make your life +happy.’</p> + +<p>Up to that moment Rosa had fed +and washed the baby, and slept with it +in her arms, but now Lizzie took all +these sweet maternal duties into her own +hands. She nursed it all that day, and +when night came she laid it in her own +bed. When it was fairly asleep, and +Rosa had run over to the negroes’ +quarters to chat with her friends, Liz +sat down to her sewing in the sitting-room, +calmer and less perplexed than +she had been for days past.</p> + +<p>Up to that time she had cherished +hope, but now all hope was over. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> +knew the worst. It was bitterly hard +to know it, but at all events suspense +was at an end, and there was no new +trouble to learn. As she sat by the +shaded lamplight, wondering if Mr Courtney +knew the name of her father’s +family, and if the knowledge could be +of any use to herself, she heard a light +footstep creeping softly along the verandah, +a footstep which she recognised +at once, and which she had been wont +to jump up and welcome. But now +Liz sat still, with burning cheeks bent +over her needlework. If Maraquita +wished to come to any terms with her, +she must be the one to propose them. +Liz had prayed her last prayer to the companion +of her childhood. Presently a very +low and fearful voice called her by her name.</p> + +<p>‘Lizzie, Lizzie! Are you quite alone?’</p> + +<p>But Lizzie refused to answer, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> +Maraquita was compelled to advance into +the room. She looked very white and +scared, and the folds of her long mantle +fell round a fragile figure.</p> + +<p>‘Lizzie! Why will you not speak to +me? Papa and mamma have gone to +the theatre with Sir Russell Johnstone; +but I excused myself on the plea of +a headache, so that I might come and +see you.’</p> + +<p>‘And what do you want with me?’ +demanded Lizzie coldly.</p> + +<p>‘Cannot you guess? I am so unhappy +at what took place this morning. +I shall not rest until things are right +again between us.’</p> + +<p>‘I do not understand you, Quita! I +conclude you spoke the truth this morning, +or what you believed to be the +truth, and I have nothing more to say +upon the subject.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>‘Oh, Lizzie, have pity on me! You +know it was not the truth; but what can +I do? Everything that makes life valuable +to me seems slipping through my +fingers. I could not make up my mind +to confess to my own ruin.’</p> + +<p>‘And so you would ruin me instead—I, +who have been like a sister to you? +You would save your own character at +the expense of mine?’</p> + +<p>‘But not for always, Lizzie. Only let +me get this marriage over, and I shall +be better able to see my way before me. +And I shall be rich, too, and able to reward +you for your kindness. The child +shall never be any burden to you, Lizzie. +You may depend upon me for that.’</p> + +<p>‘And do you suppose I would take +your money?’ cried the other contemptuously. +‘Do you ask me to sell my +honour? You accuse me publicly of being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> +the unmarried mother of this child, +and then offer to pay me for the disgrace. +You are only heaping insult upon insult, +Quita. You had better leave me before +you make me forget myself.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, Lizzie, I cannot leave you,’ +exclaimed the unhappy girl, drawing nearer +to her, ‘until you have heard all I have +to say! You have always been my best +friend, Lizzie. As a little child I used to +run to you in every trouble, and trust you +to get me out of every scrape. You will +not do less for me now, Lizzie, will you?’</p> + +<p>‘You ask too much, Maraquita. You +forget that in helping you out of this +danger, I involve myself, in the way +which good women dread above everything. +I have done it, but it is at the +expense of our friendship. I can never +be friends with you again.’</p> + +<p>‘But you must—you <i>must</i>!’ cried Quita,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> +falling on her knees, and hiding her face +in Lizzie’s lap, ‘for your father’s sake, +Lizzie, if not for mine.’</p> + +<p>‘I have done it for my father’s sake,’ +replied Lizzie, as she moved away from +Maraquita’s clasp. ‘Do you suppose I +have not been thinking of <i>him</i> all to-day, +and of the promise I made him? Nothing +else would have kept me silent; +but it is over now, and we need say no +more upon the subject. I beg of you, +Quita, to leave me, and go home again, +for your presence here is very painful to +me.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Lizzie, don’t be so hard! I am +not the unfeeling creature you take me +for. It is only fear of my parents that +makes me shrink from confessing the +truth. They would kill me, Lizzie, if +they knew it. They would not let me +live to disgrace them.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Lizzie. ‘They +would do nothing of the sort. They +would reproach you as they have me, and +you richly deserve it. But tell the truth +whilst you are about it, Maraquita. Say +that you have no feeling either for your +child or its father (whoever he may be), +and I may believe what you say.’</p> + +<p>‘But you are wrong,’ interposed Quita +eagerly. ‘I love him dearly, and I should +have loved <i>it</i> also, if I had not been afraid. +And I can prove it to you, Lizzie, for I +have come here to-night to see the baby, +and I shall come as often as I can without +exciting suspicion. Where is she? Let +me see her at once.’</p> + +<p>‘What baby?’ demanded Liz, with +affected ignorance.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Liz! how can you ask? Why, +my own baby, of course! The one you +have in charge.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>‘I thought you denied this morning that +you were a mother, Quita?’</p> + +<p>‘I was obliged to do so. What could +I say, with mamma or papa liable to +come in at any moment? You might +as well have asked me to cut my own +throat. But here, alone with you, I can +say anything! I confess it is mine, +Lizzie, and that I knew all about it from +the beginning. I told your dear father +everything; and he promised that he and +you should stand my friends, and prevent +my secret from being published to the +world.’</p> + +<p>‘I have heard all this before,’ said +Lizzie, still engaged upon her sewing.</p> + +<p>‘And now you will let me see her, +won’t you? You will let me hold her in +my arms for a little while? I must not +stay long, for fear that meddlesome old +Jessica should come after me. You<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> +will take me to my baby at once, +Lizzie?’</p> + +<p>‘No,’ replied the Doctor’s daughter +firmly.</p> + +<p>‘What do you mean? Isn’t she here?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes; but you will not see her.’</p> + +<p>‘How dare you keep me from her? +She is mine, not yours.’</p> + +<p>‘You did not say so this morning.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, but then I was mad!’</p> + +<p>‘Are you prepared, then, to take your +child back to the White House with you? +Will you confess the lie of which you +have been guilty to your parents, and +exonerate me in their eyes of the charge +you have brought against me?’</p> + +<p>Maraquita shrank backward.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Liz! that is too much. I should +destroy all my prospects at a blow by +such an admission. Besides, it has nothing +to do with the matter. All I want<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> +is to see the child. Surely you will not +refuse so trifling a request?’</p> + +<p>‘I do refuse it.’</p> + +<p>‘But you have no right to do so.’</p> + +<p>‘By your own account, Maraquita, I +have every right. You declared before +your mother that this child was mine. +Therefore I will keep it as such, and I +refuse to let you see her.’</p> + +<p>‘And I am determined not to leave +the bungalow till I have done so!’ cried +Quita, rushing towards the bedroom door.</p> + +<p>But Lizzie had reached it before she +did, and stood with her back against the +panels.</p> + +<p>‘You shall not enter here,’ she said, in +a tone of authority.</p> + +<p>Then Quita took to beseeching. She +fell on her knees again, and held Lizzie +tightly clasped about her feet.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, my dear sister, let me see my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> +baby, if only for a minute! I have been +thinking of her ever since this morning, +Lizzie,—of the dark eyes you spoke of,—the +tiny waxen hands and feet, and the +rosebud mouth; and I feel as if I should +die if I do not have her in my arms, +and kiss her, and tell her that I am her +mother.’</p> + +<p>‘Will you tell the world so, Maraquita?’</p> + +<p>‘You know that I cannot.’</p> + +<p>‘Then you will not see your child +until you do,’ replied Lizzie, as she locked +the bedroom door, and put the key into +her pocket. ‘You have openly disgraced +me by palming on me the consequences +of your own sin. You have denied your +motherhood, and given up your most +sacred rights and duties. Well, for your +sake, and to conceal your shame, I accept +them; and the first act which I exercise +is to keep the child to myself.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>‘You actually refuse?’ cried Quita, +starting to her feet, crimson with indignation.</p> + +<p>‘Emphatically. There is only one way +you can secure the privilege, and that is +by an open confession of the truth.’</p> + +<p>‘Then I shall never do it! And you +may carry the burden to your life’s end!’ +exclaimed Maraquita furiously. ‘And another +with it, for you do not know all. +You have never asked me the name of +the father of this child! You came crying +to me this morning about Henri de +Courcelles, and how much you loved him, +and how anxious he was to discover the +parentage of my baby. He has lied to +you! He has made use of this dilemma +to get rid of you; for he knows whose +baby this is as well as I do. He knows +the mother and the father of it—for the +father is <i>himself</i>!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>She watched the light fade out of +Lizzie’s eyes as the cruel truth smote +upon her heart, and she grasped at the +back of a chair to save herself from falling. +But when the first shock was over, +she refused to believe the story.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Henri!</i>’ she exclaimed, in a faint voice. +‘But it is <i>impossible</i>! Henri is—is—<i>mine</i>!’</p> + +<p>‘He pretended to be!’ cried Quita +maliciously, ‘because it was a good blind +for them up at the White House, I +suppose, but he has been mine and +mine only for the last twelve months, +and he is nearly mad at the idea of +losing me now.’</p> + +<p>‘And why must he lose you?’ said +Lizzie quickly, forgetting her own pain +in her lover’s wrongs. ‘If what you say +is true, why do you not marry him, and +take care of your little child between you?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>Maraquita shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>‘Because my people will not hear of +such a marriage for me, and think I +should lower myself by becoming the +wife of an overseer.’</p> + +<p>‘Not so much as you have lowered +yourself already, Quita.’</p> + +<p>‘Perhaps not, but nobody knows that! +And then I am already engaged, so it +is of no use talking about anything else.’</p> + +<p>‘Poor Henri,’ sighed Lizzie.</p> + +<p>‘I can’t see why he is to be pitied! +He knew from the beginning that it +must all end some day. But I little +dreamt it would end like this. <i>I</i> am +the one who has suffered all the risk +and the blame, and yet no one seems +to pity <i>me</i>.’</p> + +<p>Lizzie was silent. Her heart was +burning within her, and yet pride prevented +her speech. It was cruelly humiliating<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> +to find that all the time she had +been engaged to be married to De Courcelles, +he had been carrying on with +another girl, and had even had the audacity +to make his own fault the putative +cause for breaking off his engagement +to her. She could not decide at the +moment whether she loved or hated him +the most, his conduct appeared in so +mean and despicable a light.</p> + +<p>‘You are right, Maraquita,’ she continued, +after a pause. ‘He is not worthy +of your pity or mine. He has cruelly +deceived us both—and you perhaps the +most, since even, if he loved you best, +he has served you worst! Even now—in +the first pitiless agony of hearing your +news—I can thank God I do not stand +in your position. And if you should ever +think better of your decision regarding +him, remember I shall not stand in your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> +light, for from this day Henri de Courcelles +will be less than nothing to me.’</p> + +<p>‘But the child!—you will not desert the +child?’ exclaimed Quita, with something +like maternal anxiety in her voice.</p> + +<p>Liz shuddered.</p> + +<p>‘It will be a double burthen to me now,’ +she answered; ‘but I have already resolved +to do as my father would have +wished me, and I will not shirk my self-imposed +duty. I will do my utmost for +the child.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Lizzie, you are very good! You +make me feel so ashamed of myself,’ said +Quita, attempting to kiss her adopted +sister.</p> + +<p>But Lizzie sprung aside from her.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t touch me!’ she cried. ‘Don’t +stay near me any longer, or I shall be +unable to conceal the loathing I feel for +your conduct! False lover—false mother—false<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> +friend! Oh, Maraquita, Maraquita! +it would have been better if God +had called you to Himself when you were +as innocent as your unfortunate baby! +You and he, between you, have destroyed +all my faith in human nature.’</p> + +<p>And Liz, throwing herself into a chair, +and laying down her head upon the table, +sobbed so bitterly and unrestrainedly, +that Quita, terrified at the sound, which +might attract spectators to spread abroad +the news of her being in the bungalow, +fled out into the darkness again, and made +her way back to the White House.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i156.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i157a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i157b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="M"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">M</span>R COURTNEY was quite as +proud as his wife of the +grand marriage his daughter +was about to make. He was inordinately +fond of Maraquita, and would have +considered her a fit match for a prince +of the blood royal. At the same time, +he was only a planter, and it was a great +thing to know that his child was going +to marry the highest man in the island. +He had plenty of money to bestow on +her—Sir Russell Johnstone had opened +his eyes when his future father-in-law<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> +had mentioned the dowry he would receive +with his bride—and when Maraquita +had obtained rank and position, +his best wishes for her would be gratified. +He was sitting in the room which +he called his office, and had just dismissed +Monsieur de Courcelles, when +his wife entered the apartment. Mr +Courtney had had occasion to find fault +with the overseer that morning. He +had not attended to several important +matters during the week, and seemed +sluggish and indifferent to his master’s +orders. Mr Courtney suspected that he +had been drinking also, and accused him +of the fact, and De Courcelles’ answers +had been too sullen to please him. He +was brooding over the change in the +young man’s behaviour, when Mrs +Courtney came panting into the room. +It was not often she honoured her husband<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> +with her presence during business +hours, and he saw at once that she had +some communication of importance to +make to him.</p> + +<p>‘Well, my dear, what is it? Quita not +worse this morning, I hope?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, Mr Courtney! The dear +child grows stronger every hour, under +the knowledge of her delightful prospects, +and I am most anxious that nothing +should occur to mar her recovery, +for dear Sir Russell is naturally anxious +to have the wedding as soon as possible.’</p> + +<p>‘Of course; but that is for you and +Quita to decide. You know that I shall +spare no money to expedite matters. The +sooner the dear girl is Lady Johnstone, +the better.’</p> + +<p>‘So <i>I</i> say, Mr Courtney,’ replied his +wife, looking anxiously round. ‘But are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> +you likely to be undisturbed for a few +minutes? Have you dismissed Monsieur +de Courcelles for the day?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, and not in the best of humours. +He is getting lazy, Nita, and I am not +sure that he is keeping as sober as he +should be. He gave me something very +like insolence this morning. Do you +know if anything is wrong with him? +Is his engagement with Lizzie Fellows +still going on?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mr Courtney, this is the very +subject on which I wished to see you. +De Courcelles has been behaving very +badly, in my estimation. You will hardly +believe, even when I tell you so, that he +has had the presumption to lift his eyes +to our Maraquita, and to swear he will +be revenged if she marries any other +man.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Impossible!</i>’ cried Mr Courtney, starting.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> +He had had his own suspicions respecting +the young overseer’s admiration +for his daughter and heiress, and, on a +former occasion, he had told him so, but +he had never had any idea that it had +come to an open avowal between them. +‘Do you mean to tell me,’ he continued, +‘that De Courcelles has had the audacity +to address Maraquita on this subject, and +to make her cognisant of his affection?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mr Courtney, where can your +eyes be? How blind you men are! +Why, he has been at the poor child’s +feet for twelve months past; and Quita +has kept him gently off, fearing to deprive +you of a valuable servant; but now +it has gone too far, and I feel it is time +I spoke.’</p> + +<p>‘I thought he admired her, and told +him there was no hope for him, some +little time back; but he assured me I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> +was mistaken. I offered, at the same +time, to forward his marriage with Lizzie +Fellows, but he declared that there was +no engagement between them.’</p> + +<p>‘Then he has been deceiving you all +round, and is not worthy of your trust +and confidence. He <i>was</i> engaged to +Lizzie. She told Quita so yesterday, only +he broke it off on account of this disgraceful +affair at the bungalow. But all the +while he has been persecuting our poor girl +with his addresses, until she is positively +afraid of him, or what he may do.’</p> + +<p>‘But what can he do? Surely he has +not dared to threaten her?’</p> + +<p>‘He has said he will kill her at the +very altar, sooner than she shall marry Sir +Russell, or any other man, and has thrown +the poor child into such a state of distress +and perturbation, that I feel certain, +unless her mind can be set at complete<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> +rest concerning him, it will greatly retard +her recovery.’</p> + +<p>‘But it <i>must</i> be set at rest. This is +quite unbearable!’ exclaimed the planter, +striding up and down the room; ‘De +Courcelles must leave Beauregard at +once. I shall give him his dismissal this +afternoon.’</p> + +<p>‘Not this afternoon, Mr Courtney. +Wait until we are safe on the hill range, +and then send him straight away. Maraquita +will have no peace until she hears +that he is gone.’</p> + +<p>‘Fancy the presumption of his aspiring +to the hand of our daughter!’ continued +Mr Courtney indignantly. ‘A man without +a sixpence beyond his weekly stipend, +and no chance of increasing that. It is +the most barefaced impudence I ever +heard of. He shall get the sack before +he is a day older.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>‘But you will do it on some other pretence +I hope, Mr Courtney. You will not +bring in Quita’s name. I should be sorry +for it to get known that he dared to fall in +love with her. People are so ill-natured; +they might say she had given the fellow +some encouragement.’</p> + +<p>‘They will not dare to say anything +against <i>Lady Russell</i>,’ said the father +triumphantly. ‘When do you start for +the hill range, my dear; and when is +the wedding to be?’</p> + +<p>‘We go to-morrow morning. I have +ordered our palanquins for four o’clock, +and Joseph has arranged the coolie service +as far as the Government bungalow. +Quita wanted to ride up with Sir Russell, +but I am afraid of taxing her strength as +yet. As for the wedding, they have fixed +it between themselves for the fourteenth +of next month. Quita’s things cannot all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> +be ready, but Sir Russell is willing to take +her as she is, until the trousseau is complete. +I never saw a man more in love in +my life. He is quite infatuated with +her.’</p> + +<p>‘And well he may be, for there is not +a prettier nor sweeter girl on all the +islands. Well, my dear, De Courcelles +must go, there is no doubt of that, unless, +indeed, he will marry Lizzie Fellows. +<i>That</i> would put a stop to all unpleasantness +at once.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Marry Lizzie Fellows!</i>’ echoed Mrs +Courtney; ‘what, after he has been in love +with our Quita! Well, I should be very +much surprised if he could do that.’</p> + +<p>‘But he was engaged to her (as you +say), or nearly so. Poor Fellows told me +as much himself. And it would be but +reasonable for De Courcelles to settle +down. He can’t have Maraquita, that’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> +quite certain, and he might do worse than +fulfil his word to poor Lizzie.’</p> + +<p>‘What, after she has disgraced herself?’</p> + +<p>‘My dear, are you certain she <i>has</i> disgraced +herself? She assured me most +solemnly that child was not her own, and +had nothing to do with her, and I have +never known Lizzie tell a lie. It is as +incomprehensible to me as it is to you, +and I cannot understand my old friend +Fellows leaving the poor girl in such a +painful position. Still, you must not forget +that I have been just as true to him +as Lizzie evidently is to some other person; +and we should be the last people to +disbelieve her word, because she is unable +to give us any further explanation of it.’</p> + +<p>Mrs Courtney had greatly fidgeted and +changed colour under her husband’s kindly +pleading.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mr Courtney, I really have no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> +patience with you! Do you honestly think +any woman would incur such a public disgrace, +without making an effort to clear +her character? I questioned Lizzie closely +myself only yesterday, and she refused to +open her lips, even to <i>me</i>, who have +known her from a baby. It is quite +incredible, and there is only one solution of +the mystery—that she pretends to possess +this stern sense of honour, in order to hide +her want of it.’</p> + +<p>‘Is it possible that De Courcelles can +be the father of this child?’ said Mr +Courtney musingly, hitting the right nail +on the head without knowing it.</p> + +<p>‘I daresay he is! I shouldn’t be surprised +at anything I might hear of +Monsieur de Courcelles.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, my dear, I suppose he must go,’ +returned her husband, with a sigh; ‘and I +will speak to him as soon as ever you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> +have left the White House. I cannot +have Maraquita annoyed; and indeed if he +has behaved shabbily to poor Lizzie, it is +not right he should continue to live in her +sight. So you may consider that matter +settled.’</p> + +<p>Upon which assurance Mrs Courtney +returned to her own room, to promise her +daughter that she should never again be +subjected to her cast-off lover’s appeals or +reproaches; and the following morning +De Courcelles watched their palanquins +leaving Beauregard, from the shelter of +the oleander thicket. A few hours after, +he walked as usual into the presence of +his employer. When the day’s business +had been disposed of, the overseer rose to +go, but Mr Courtney detained him.</p> + +<p>‘Take a chair for a few minutes, De +Courcelles, I have something of importance +to say to you. You may remember<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> +a brief conversation that took +place between us a few weeks back, on +the occasion of Miss Courtney’s illness. +I warned you that it would be wise to +keep your admiration of her within bounds, +and you assured me that you had done so. +My wife tells me a different story. She +says that Maraquita is both distressed and +annoyed by your evident predilection for +her, and I cannot have my daughter annoyed. +Therefore I think it is best that +we should part.’</p> + +<p>Mr Courtney was an honest man by +nature, unused to <i>finesse</i> or intrigue of any +kind, and he had quite forgotten his wife’s +caution with respect to introducing Quita’s +name as a reason for the overseer’s dismissal. +He had gone straight at his +fences, and the leap was over. Henri +de Courcelles flushed dark crimson as the +subject was thus openly mentioned to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>‘I am quite unaware how I can have +annoyed Miss Courtney,’ he replied. ‘I +have not even seen her since her recovery.’</p> + +<p>‘Is that the case?’ demanded the planter. +‘Then perhaps it was before. But anyway, +as she is so shortly to be married to +the Governor of San Diego, you must see +the propriety of discontinuing any false +hopes you may have entertained concerning +her.’</p> + +<p>‘Miss Courtney’s engagement is, then, +a settled thing?’ said De Courcelles +bitterly.</p> + +<p>‘Certainly, and the wedding-day is fixed +for the fourteenth of next month. My +daughter will soon rank as the highest +lady in the island, and any kindness which, +as a young and thoughtless girl, she may +have shown you (or any other friend) in +the past, must not form any pretension +for claiming to be on familiar terms with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> +the Governor’s wife, or Sir Russell Johnstone +might resent it as an insult.’</p> + +<p>‘I understand you perfectly, sir, and +Lady Johnstone need fear no recognition +of any claims I may have had upon Miss +Courtney, from me.’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Claims!</i> I do not understand the +term, De Courcelles. What <i>claims</i> could +you possibly have upon my daughter? +You are forgetting yourself. Miss Courtney +can never have been anything to you +but a gracious young mistress and friend.’</p> + +<p>‘That is how it may be, sir. Miss +Courtney knows her own secrets best, +and doubtless she has chosen wisely in +electing to become the wife of the Governor. +Rank and position cover a multitude +of sins.’</p> + +<p>Mr Courtney did not like the style of +address adopted by his overseer, but he +scarcely knew how to resent it. He was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> +half afraid to tell him to speak out. What +if Maraquita had really been light of conduct, +and employed her leisure time in +flirting with his overseer? It would be +a very embarrassing discovery, but not +an unnatural one, when De Courcelles’ +extreme beauty and grace of form were +taken into consideration. So he thought +it prudent to change the topic.</p> + +<p>‘Well, well,’ he said testily, ‘we are +not here to discuss Miss Courtney’s conduct, +but your own. You have not been +quite the same as usual lately, De Courcelles. +I have observed an unsteadiness, +and a disposition to sloth in you, which +has grieved me. Come now, let us +talk this matter over like two men of the +world. We will suppose you <i>have</i> had +a slight predilection for my daughter. +I am not surprised at it, and I do not +blame you; but you must have known<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> +it could never be anything more. Well, +in a few weeks she will be married, and +pass out of your life. What is the use +of spoiling the rest of it for her sake? +Why not settle down and make a home +for yourself? If you were married, +all this little unpleasantness would be +smoothed away.’</p> + +<p>‘That is easy to say, Mr Courtney, +but not so easy to do.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t agree with you. There is a +nice girl close to your elbow, of whom +I spoke to you at the same time I +mentioned my daughter. I mean Lizzie +Fellows. Ah, you start! You have +heard this rumour about her, I suppose, +in common with others, and fancy it is +true. But I am sure it is not, De Courcelles. +I have known Lizzie from a child, +and I would stake my life upon her +honesty.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>‘You allude to the infant of which she +was left in charge, sir?’</p> + +<p>‘I am glad to hear you mention it +like that. It proves you believe her +story. You told me there was no engagement +between you, but Mrs Courtney +informs me there was, and you broke it +off on account of this child. But women +jump at conclusions so: perhaps she is +mistaken.’</p> + +<p>De Courcelles was quite capable of +defending himself.</p> + +<p>‘Miss Fellows and I were <i>not</i> regularly +engaged at the time you spoke to me, +sir, nor have we been since. Only when +Lizzie refused to give me any explanation +concerning her nurse-child, I said +in my haste that want of confidence was +the death of friendship, and that we had +better not meet again.’</p> + +<p>‘And you regret so hasty a decision?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>‘Why do you ask me, sir?’</p> + +<p>‘Because if you and Lizzie like each +other, I should be pleased to see you +married. I am fond of the girl, and +consider her a sacred charge; and marriage +would silence these cruel slanders +against her, sooner than anything else. +If you can make up your minds on the +subject, De Courcelles, I will do for you +what I promised before—raise your salary, +furnish the Oleander Bungalow afresh, +and settle it on you and your wife, and +all these little disagreeables will be forgotten +before three months are over our +heads.’</p> + +<p>‘And if not, sir?’ inquired the overseer +hastily.</p> + +<p>‘If <i>not</i>, De Courcelles, we must part. +I am sorry to say it, but I shall consider +your refusal (or Lizzie’s) as a proof that +the less you are about the White House<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> +in the future the better. Not the +slightest taint—not even the bare suspicion +of one—must rest on the fair +name of the future Lady Johnstone.’</p> + +<p>‘I understand you, Mr Courtney, and +I will consider your proposal. How soon +do you expect to get my answer?’</p> + +<p>‘Not until you are quite prepared to +give it me. You have plenty of time before +you. My wife and daughter will be +away on the hills for a month, and I have +no wish to part with an old friend in such +a hurry. Think of it well, De Courcelles. +I will look over any of the little derelictions +of duty to which I have alluded, in consideration +of the disappointment which you +must have suffered; but my decision is final +with regard to Miss Fellows. You must +either marry her, or leave my service.’</p> + +<p>De Courcelles left the planter’s presence +grinding his teeth with rage. He had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> +burned, while listening to his talk about +his daughter’s marriage and future prospects, +to tell him to his face that Maraquita +was, to all intents and purposes, <i>his</i> +wife, and the mother of the child at the +bungalow. But he dared not! He was +afraid not only of the planter but of the +negro population, if such a story got wind +in the plantation. Revenge is sometimes +very swift and sure in the West Indies, +especially when the natives are in a state +of insubordination. Besides, he would +gain nothing by such an admission. It +would not give him back Maraquita—faithless, +perjured Maraquita, who, having +slipped from his grasp into the arms of +the Governor of San Diego, had instigated +her parents, by a tissue of falsehoods, to +dismiss him summarily from Beauregard. +And it would have robbed him of the hope +of revenge—a hope sweeter to a Spanish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> +Creole even than love. As Henri de +Courcelles thought of it, his hand tightened +over the stiletto he always carried in his +belt. Banishment from Beauregard would +mean to sit down for the remainder of his +life under this bitter wrong, without the +satisfaction of feeling he had avenged it. +At all hazards he must remain near this +false love of his. She should never feel +secure from him. He would appear before +her in her most triumphant moments, and +make her tremble with the fear that he +was about to accuse her openly of her +secret crime. Maraquita Courtney should +never know another peaceful moment, +whilst he lived to terrify her. But the +opportunity depended on his marrying +Lizzie Fellows. Well, if it must be so, +it must be so. Henri de Courcelles, strolling +down the path between the rows of +coffee trees, and caressing his handsome<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> +moustaches as he went, seemed to have no +doubt that he had but to ask to obtain. +The conceit of men, where women are +concerned, knows no bounds. Every +woman, according to their creed, is only +too ready to fly into their arms. The +good old days when knights were not considered +worthy to ask for a lady’s hand +until they had achieved some doughty +deed to make her proud of them, are gone +for ever. Yet, if a girl is particular, or +indifferent, or hard to please, she is voted +to be either a prude or a jilt. The rougher +sex require a few hard raps occasionally, to +keep them in order, and the woman who +puts them in their place, confers a benefit +on the whole of her kind. As Monsieur +de Courcelles strolled along, his footsteps +carried him in the direction of Lizzie’s +bungalow, and thinking no time like the +present, he halted on the threshold, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> +called her by her name. The recollection +of how he had last left her presence made +him hesitate to walk boldly into it, but he +was quite confident that he had but to ask +her forgiveness to obtain it. Lizzie was +just about to visit her sick negroes. She +was dressed in a white gown, covered with +an apron and a high bib of brown holland, +and on her head she wore a broad-brimmed +hat, tied with a black ribbon. She looked +pale and weary, but the look of perplexity +was gone from her face, and her general +expression was calm. She was filling her +basket with such medicines as were necessary, +when she heard her name called in +the old familiar tones of De Courcelles. +As the sound struck on her ear, she turned +even whiter than before, but resentment +prevented her losing her presence of mind.</p> + +<p>‘What do you want with me?’ she demanded +sharply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>‘Only a few words of explanation and +apology. May I come in, Lizzie? I +have been longing to do so ever since we +parted.’</p> + +<p>‘You can enter if you wish it, monsieur, +but I cannot imagine what you can possibly +have to say to me. I have looked +upon our last meeting as a final one.’</p> + +<p>‘But may you not change your opinion +of it, and of me?’ replied the overseer, as +he entered the room, and advanced to her +side. ‘I know I sinned against you grossly, +almost beyond forgiveness, but you must +make allowance for the whirlwind of passion +I was in,—for the awful doubt that +had assailed me.’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot admit that as any excuse for +your conduct, monsieur. You had my +word that I was innocent, and you were +supposed to be my friend. There is no +friendship without trust and confidence.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>‘Do not say “<i>supposed</i>,” Lizzie. I +<i>was</i> your friend, as I am now, and ever +will be, if you will forgive my hasty words, +and reinstate me in my old position.’</p> + +<p>‘That can never be,’ she rejoined +hastily. ‘You were <i>supposed</i> to be much +more than my friend, but you deceived +me all along.’</p> + +<p>‘How can you speak so? How did I +deceive you, Lizzie?’</p> + +<p>‘I would rather not discuss the subject, +monsieur,’ said Lizzie, taking up her +basket. ‘This is my time for visiting +my patients, and they will be expecting +me. I must wish you good-morning.’</p> + +<p>‘No, no; I cannot let you go until we +have arrived at some explanation!’ exclaimed +De Courcelles, detaining her by +the folds of her dress. ‘You accuse me +of deceiving you, and yet I thought my +fault lay in being too outspoken. I know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> +I shouldn’t have said what I did. I +regret it deeply, from the bottom of +my heart, and I humbly ask your pardon +for the implied affront. Is not that +sufficient?’</p> + +<p>‘It is more than sufficient,’ replied +Lizzie coolly, as she disengaged her gown +from his grasp, ‘and more than I wished +you to say. However, I accept your +apology, and we will say no more about +it. Now, will you please to let me go?’</p> + +<p>‘No, you must stay! Put off your +visits till this afternoon, and hear me +out. I have not told you half my story. +Have you quite forgotten that we are +engaged to be married, Lizzie?’</p> + +<p>‘I have not forgotten it, but I have +ceased to believe in it. You ruptured +our engagement of your own free will.’</p> + +<p>‘But that was in my anger, and a few +angry words, Lizzie, are powerless to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> +undo the tie which had existed for a +twelvemonth. I did not mean what I +said. I have regretted it ever since, and +I am here this morning to ask you to +forgive it, and let our engagement stand +as it did before.’</p> + +<p>He was drawing closer to her, confident +in his powers of fascination, but she +pushed him from her.</p> + +<p>‘Monsieur de Courcelles, I am surprised +at you! I am surprised now to +think that I should ever have believed +in you, or thought the engagement you +entered into with me anything but a +blind for your more serious intentions in +another quarter.’</p> + +<p>He started backward with astonishment, +little dreaming that she knew the +whole of Maraquita’s sad history.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t understand you,’ he gasped. +‘I have never been engaged to any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> +woman but yourself. I don’t desire to +marry any other woman. I came here +to-day with the express purpose of asking +you to condone the past, and marry +me as soon as may be convenient to you.’</p> + +<p>A few weeks before, how her heart +would have beat at such a proposal, how +her cheek would have flamed assent, and +her humid eyes have sought his with +grateful love. But now she sprang +aside as if he had insulted her, and +flashed defiance on him to repeat the +offence.</p> + +<p>‘How <i>dare</i> you?’ she panted. ‘How +dare you speak to me of marriage—you, +who have treated me with scorn and +contumely?’</p> + +<p>‘But I have acknowledged my error, +Lizzie. Surely you are not a woman +to resent a fault for ever. You <i>used</i> to +love me, I am sure of that.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>‘Don’t be <i>too</i> sure,’ she interposed +hastily. ‘I loved <i>something</i>, I know,—some +creature conjured up by my imagination, +but not the man of flesh and +blood I see before me. For I did not +know you then, and no one can love an +unknown person.’</p> + +<p>‘Lizzie, you are very hard upon me! +I am not perfect, any more than other +men, but I don’t know what I can have +done to merit such bitter taunts from +you. At all events, try and know me +now as the man who loves you, and entreats +you to marry him. Lizzie, be my +wife! Mr Courtney is aware of our attachment, +and has made a very generous +offer of assistance, if we marry each +other. If your affection for me was ever +true, you will not refuse me now.’</p> + +<p>‘My affection for you <i>was</i> true,’ replied +Lizzie, looking him full in the face;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> +‘and all the more does that make me +say I will never marry you now. <i>Never!</i> +Not if there was not another man in the +world.’</p> + +<p>‘But <i>why</i>? Surely you will give me a +reason for your refusal, Lizzie.’</p> + +<p>‘My reason is soon given, monsieur. +Maraquita—my earliest friend and my +adopted sister—was here last night. She +came to ask permission to see the child, +of whom both of you have accused me +of being the mother, and I refused her. +I told her since I had to bear the blame, +I would also maintain the authority over +it. And then—in a moment of passion, +I suppose—somewhat like that moment +which influenced you basely to get out +of your engagement to me by means of +a lie—she told me the name of the child’s +father. <i>Now</i>, do you wonder that I say +that henceforth there never can be any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> +communion between you and me, except +of the most ordinary kind. The man who +could take advantage of his own sin to +ruin the character of an innocent woman, +will never make a good husband to any one, +and I have done with you for ever!’</p> + +<p>Henri de Courcelles turned his face +away to the open window, the dark blood +mantling for very shame into his cheeks.</p> + +<p>‘I have nothing to say for myself,’ he +muttered presently. ‘I am only a man, +and men are very open to temptations +such as these. But if I have sinned, I +have also suffered. I was led on by a +heartless woman, who has deserted her +child, and thrown me over for the first +suitor who presents himself with money +and position in his hands. I would +have married her willingly, but she +refused to marry me. She is an +infernal jilt, with as false a heart and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> +tongue as ever woman had; and she has +been my ruin. She is nothing to me +now, and she never will be. If you took +compassion on me, Lizzie, and healed my +sore heart with your pure affection, you +should never have reason to complain of +even my thoughts straying that way. I +hate the very name of her.’</p> + +<p>‘That is no palliation of your fault, in +my eyes, monsieur. I should feel for you +more if you told me her desertion had +made you miserable. But why do you +not appeal to Mr Courtney to stop this +unnatural marriage? Did he know the +truth, he would surely never allow his +daughter so to prostitute herself.’</p> + +<p>‘What good should I effect by that, +Lizzie? Mr Courtney would only banish +me at once from Beauregard. Do you +suppose he would give up the prospect +of Maraquita becoming the Governor’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> +wife, for the sake of an overseer? Besides, +he already suspects that I admire +her, and has told me as much, with the +adjoinder that the only condition on which +I can retain my situation is to fulfil my +engagement with you, and settle down at +the Oleander Bungalow as a married man. +In that case, he has promised to refurnish +the house, and raise my salary. So, you +see, we should be very comfortable; and, +if you wished it, you could retain your +medical appointment over the plantation.’</p> + +<p>‘And so <i>I</i> am to be made the scapegoat +to bear your sins into the wilderness, +and to patch up your injured character at +Beauregard! You have mistaken me altogether. +I am capable, I think, of making +great sacrifices for a man who loves me, +but not for one who rightly belongs to +another woman. You will not retain your +position at Beauregard through <i>my</i> means.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>‘Then I am ruined,’ returned the overseer +fiercely, ‘and I owe my downfall to +you two women! You have destroyed +my life between you. I shall be turned +off the plantation, without a prospect of +employment. And if I become desperate, +it will be laid at your door.’</p> + +<p>‘At Maraquita’s, if you please, monsieur, +but not at mine. I would have clung to +you through good and evil report, had +you been true to me. But I cannot forget +the cruel infamy you put upon me, +knowing it to be false. It is a crime past +a woman’s forgiveness,—a calumny that +will cling to me through life, even though +you married me in church to-morrow. +Yet I would rather go down to the grave +enduring it, than become your wife.’</p> + +<p>‘It is finished then!’ exclaimed De +Courcelles, seizing his hat and rushing +from the apartment, ‘and I will trouble<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> +you no more on the subject, now or ever,’—and +the next moment he was striding +hurriedly towards his home.</p> + +<p>Lizzie trembled as he left her, but she +did not weep. Her stock of tears was +exhausted. And had they not been, a +cry from the infant in the next room +would have dried them at their fount. +She summoned Rosa, who was basking +asleep in the verandah, to its assistance, +and with a deep, deep sigh for her dead +past, lifted her basket, and took her way +to the coolie quarters.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i192.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i193a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i193b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="J"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">J</span>ERUSHA, the East Indian +coolie, sat at the door of her +hut, nursing her baby on her +knee, and with a very sullen expression +on her countenance. Indeed, all the hands +on Beauregard had borne more or less +of a rebellious look of late. They had +no particular grudge against Mr Courtney, +who was a kind, if rather an indolent +master, delegating all his duties to his +overseer; but they detested Henri de +Courcelles, and the accounts of his cruelty, +and selfishness, and dishonesty, formed the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> +staple portion of their conversation. His +very beauty, and evident self-consciousness +of it, the vast superiority which he +assumed over them, and the rigour with +which he carried out the rules of the +plantation, all combined to set the coolies +against him, and they thirsted to find out +something which might degrade him from +his office. The reports from the Fort, too, +the constant attempts at rising which had +to be quelled, had incited them on to +imitation, and altogether the plantation +workers were seething under a sense of +wrong, and ripe for rebellion. Poor little +Jerusha, with her handsome half-caste +baby in her arms, might have furnished +them with a pretext for denouncing the +overseer, had not her case been too +common a one amongst them. But to +the girl it meant the devastation of her +life. She had not courted her destiny.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> +She had been landed in San Diego, a +poor trembling Indian coolie amongst a +herd of fellow-sufferers, who had been persuaded +to leave Calcutta under a promise +of good wages, and plenty of food, and very +little work, and after a voyage of four +months (during which they had been +herded between decks like so many +swine), had been marched ashore at San +Diego, too weak and frightened and disappointed +to have any hope left in them, +unless it were that they might die. They +had been all standing together for hire, +when De Courcelles had sauntered by +and picked out the likely ones for Mr +Courtney’s plantation. Jerusha well remembered +how he came like a prince +amongst them, and how handsome he had +looked in his white linen suit and broad-brimmed +hat, with the blue silk handkerchief +knotted at his throat, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> +crimson rose blooming in his button-hole,—and +when he had stopped beside her +and spoken to her in his low soft tone, +she had thought him more glorious still. +She had not sought him out, this poor +little Indian girl, but he had pertinaciously +come after her. He had asked for her +the very day after she had entered the +plantation, and put so many questions +as to whether her hut was comfortable, +and her food sufficient, that Jerusha was +quite bewildered. And then he had +given her new clothes, smart dresses—such +as the natives love to deck themselves +in—and gold earrings for her ears; +and the usual consequence followed. She +fell to the tempter’s seductive arts. It +was a sort of heaven to the poor untaught +coolie to be selected from all the +other girls to be the favourite of the +handsome young overseer. She never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> +troubled her head to think how long +his preference would last. She knew that +he would never marry her—she would +have laughed at so ludicrous an idea—and +yet she fancied somehow that her +happiness would never end, and was +terribly disappointed and bitterly incensed +when the day came that De Courcelles +ordered her back to her quarters with the +other coolies, and refused to make any +difference between them. She had reproached +him with his conduct on the +occasion which has been related, but, if +anything, it had had the effect of making +him more severe with her, and Jerusha +realised at last that all was over between +them, and that she had been only a tool +and a plaything to minister to his short-lived +pleasure. She was pondering resentfully +on his neglect as she sat on +the ground, with both her hands clasped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> +round her knees to make a cradle for +her little Henri, as she would persist in +calling the child, greatly to the annoyance +of the overseer. Henri was a +beautiful infant, large and round and +buoyant, with much more of the father +than the mother in his appearance. He +was gaily dressed in a short calico shirt +of red and white striped cotton, with +bangles on his fat brown arms, and a +string of blue beads round his neck, +and as Jerusha rocked him to and fro, +and heard him crow with delight at +the exercise, the gloom on her face +would suddenly disappear, and she would +seize the boy in her arms and kiss +him vehemently. As she was thus +amusing herself, a shadow fell between +her and the setting sun, and old Jessica +from the White House stood before +her. Jessica had been much put out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> +by her young mistress leaving her +behind when she started for the hill +range. It was the first time such a +thing had occurred, and the old nurse +felt it accordingly. Had she not waited +on Missy Quita, hand and foot, ever +since she was a baby? and if she <i>had</i> +been sharp enough to discover her +secret, had she not kept it as faithfully +as Missy would have done herself? And +why should Missy Quita leave her +behind just as she had obtained her +wish and was on the road to make +the great marriage that Jessica had +always foretold for her? The faithful +old negress felt aggrieved; and when +sunset came, and Mr Courtney had +gone out for his evening drive, and +the White House seemed deserted, her +heart turned to her old friends in the +negro quarters, and she walked down to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> +have a chat with them, and unburden +herself of her troubles.</p> + +<p>‘Eh, Jerusha, gal!’ she exclaimed, as +she caught sight of the young East +Indian, ‘and how’s de baby? He berry +fine boy, Jerusha. He make big strong +coolie, bime-by.’</p> + +<p>‘Coolie,’ repeated Jerusha scornfully. +‘My little Henri never make coolie boy. +I tell you dat, Aunty Jess. Henri’s a +lord’s son, and he’ll be gennelman, bime-by.’</p> + +<p>‘You go ways, Jerusha; you talking +nonsense! Lords is only for great ladies +like my Missy Quita.’</p> + +<p>‘Missy Quita going to marry a lord?’ +said Jerusha inquisitively, as Jessica +took a seat beside her.</p> + +<p>‘Wall, he’s not quite a lord yet, but +I ’spect he will be bime-by. But he’s a +great rich gennelman, and the Governor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> +of San Diego, and that’s next to being +a king—jes’ so! But I wish my missy +take me up to hills with her. I never +been lef’ behind before. I can’t tell why +my missy think to go widout me.’</p> + +<p>‘Praps she want de lord all to herself—’</p> + +<p>‘I not interferin’ wid her little games! +All her life I let her do jes’ as she like; +and she don’t mind ole Jessica! Ah, I +know more dan one secret ob my missy’s—you +bet, Jerusha!’</p> + +<p>‘I dessay! All gals hab dere secrets, +and dere lovers too. Dis lord not Missy +Quita’s first lover, <i>I</i> know.’</p> + +<p>‘Why, o’ course not—handsome young +lady like dat. But de good looks not +allays de good heart. Missy not grateful, +’pears to me,’ grumbled Jessica. ‘She +not want me any longer now she got +Sir Russell to wait on her.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>‘De good looks not allays de good +heart,’ echoed Jerusha; ‘you may well +say <i>dat</i>, Aunty Jess. De good looks +sometimes cover de debbil’s heart—like +Massa Courcelles’!’</p> + +<p>‘Sakes! what you know ’bout <i>him</i>, +Jerusha?’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know no <i>good</i> of him, +Aunty.’</p> + +<p>‘Jes’ like all de rest ob de world. I +nebber could bear dat oberseer; he berry +bad fellow; and dis morning he ’sulted me +dreffully. Jes’ hear, Jerusha. I comin’ +from White House, quiet as could be, wid +nothin’ to do, now my missy gone, when +I meet dat Courcelles walkin’ along and +swearin’ to himself. He came straight up +to me and he say, “Out ob my way, you +d—d old hag! If it hadn’t been for your +peepin’ and listenin’, I believe I should +have had my own way. Wait till I get<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> +you down to de cotton fields agen, and +I’ll serve you out for dis.”’</p> + +<p>‘Laws, Aunty Jess, and what <i>you</i> +say?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>I</i> say “You jes’ stop dat, you bad +man. I knows all about you; and you’ll +nebber get me down to cotton fields +agen, for if you tries it, I’ll blow de +roof ob de Oleander Bungalow off your +head, and tell de ole master eberyting!”’</p> + +<p>‘An’ what is der to tell?’ cried +Jerusha, with sudden interest.</p> + +<p>‘Sakes, gal, more than <i>you</i> guess! +But I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell +you, now my missy safe, and goin’ to +marry de Governor. ’Sides, my missy +not behave berry grateful to me. ’Tis +de way wid de white folk. Why, Jerusha, +dat oberseer Missy Quita’s lover for +ober a year, and she go out night after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> +night to meet him in de bungalow, as +I’m a livin’ woman—’</p> + +<p>‘She—go—meet—Massa Courcelles?’ +gasped Jerusha.</p> + +<p>‘Sure! And more, dat baby down +at Doctor’s bungalow no more Miss +Lizzie’s child than it is yours. Dat +baby ’long to Missy Quita and Massa +Courcelles. <i>I</i> knows! but I never tell +till my missy so ungrateful as to leave +me behind, and dat man swear and +call me “d—d hag!” But you nebber +tell nobody else, Jerusha! You +keep dat secret like your life, till +de wedding’s ober—and then, what +matter?’</p> + +<p>‘Dat baby is <i>his</i>? Oh, de false man!’ +cried the coolie, with flashing eyes, as +she sprang to her feet, and held little +Henri at arm’s length. ‘And dis chile +ob mine, dis white-skinned boy, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> +you think <i>he</i> ’long to, Aunty Jessica? +Why, to that villain too! Dat’s his +fader! Your fine Massa Courcelles, +what ruin your missy and me same +time!’</p> + +<p>‘What you say, Jerusha? Your baby’s +fader de oberseer?’</p> + +<p>‘Sure! Didn’t he favour me ober all +de other coolie girls on de plantation? +Didn’t he give me my earrings and +bangles and my Sunday shawl, and +tell me I de prettiest girl he ebber see? +And I fool enough to believe him, +Aunty; I thinkin’ he lub me allays, +and be good to me, for little Henri’s +sake. But when he found I should +hab a baby, he sent me back to de +fields, and I work dere till I nearly +drop. And he beat me—yes, Aunty!’ +shrieked Jerusha in her rage, as she +turned her flaming eyes up to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> +skies; ‘he whipped me and my poor +baby, and laughed when I dared him +to strike us! And I vowed to hab +my revenge on him, and I will hab it +yet. Massa Courcelles shall live to +wish he nebber deceived a poor coolie +girl, or struck her baby! That’s so!’</p> + +<p>‘And <i>I’ll</i> help you, Jerusha, for I hate +dat man, and I swore once to give him +obeah water for deceiving my poor +missy. And now he serve you de +same—dat’s twice bad; and I know +anudder heart what he’s broken, though +she as good and pure as de white May +lilies in de garden—and dat’s Miss +Lizzie.’</p> + +<p>‘Nebber <i>Miss Lizzie</i>!’ cried Jerusha +incredulously. ‘Miss Lizzie do wicked +ting? Why, she’s de best woman I +ebber see!’</p> + +<p>‘No, no, Jerusha! I not mean dat.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> +Only dis villain make lub to de poor +gal, and promise to marry her, and now +she breakin’ her heart because he so +false. Rosa tell me eberyting. She +pretend to be asleep in verandah dis +morning, and hear all they say. Miss +Lizzie ’clare she nebber, nebber marry +him now.’</p> + +<p>‘She miserable woman if she do,’ said +Jerusha. ‘But hush, Aunty Jess, here +come Miss Lizzie. Don’t say nuffin +’bout little Henri ’fore her. She too +good and sweet! She not like us! I +never dare tell her who was his fader.’</p> + +<p>As the coolie spoke, Lizzie came up to +them, pale but smiling. She carried her +basket as usual on her arm, and as soon +as she saw little Henri, she drew a small +sponge-cake from a selection of such +dainties which she carried for the sick, +and held it out to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>‘What a beauty he grows, Jerusha! +He will soon be out of arms now, and +toddling after you everywhere.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Missy Liz, he bery fine boy,’ +replied the young mother, in a subdued +tone.</p> + +<p>‘Is anything the matter?’ said Lizzie, +quickly glancing from Jerusha to the old +nurse. ‘No bad news of Miss Maraquita, +I hope, Jessica?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, Missy Liz. Missy quite well +enough, I guess. ’Tis them she leave +behind what feel bad.’</p> + +<p>‘You miss her, I daresay, and the White +House seems dull without her. Well, +you will soon be gay enough when the +wedding takes place.’</p> + +<p>‘I s’pose so, Missy Liz. Is dat baby +at your bungalow all right, missy?’ continued +Jessica inquisitively.</p> + +<p>Lizzie flushed to the roots of her hair.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> +She had encountered some impertinence +on this subject before, and she feared +a repetition of it.</p> + +<p>‘It is quite well, Jessica, although it +is very weakly, and I am not at all sure +of rearing it.’</p> + +<p>‘A good ting if it die,’ said the nurse; +‘and if all such babies died, Missy Liz—we’ve +no room for them here.’</p> + +<p>‘You shouldn’t say that, Jessica,’ returned +Lizzie mildly; ‘for it may be +God’s will that it should live.’</p> + +<p>‘Better say good ting if its <i>fader</i> died!’ +exclaimed Jerusha. ‘That’s the sort we’ve +no room for. Ah, Missy Liz, no use +you opening your eyes like dat. We +know plenty on dis plantation, we do!—and +we know de good from de bad too, +and may de Lord help us to root ’em out.’</p> + +<p>‘Have you any special enemy here then, +Jerusha?’ demanded Lizzie.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>‘Yes, I have,’ replied the coolie, with +dogged determination. ‘Massa Courcelles +is my special enemy, and I hate him!’</p> + +<p>‘Monsieur de Courcelles, Jerusha? Has +he been unkind to you, or done you any +wrong?’</p> + +<p>‘He has done me <i>dis</i> wrong!’ cried +Jerusha, holding out her baby. ‘He has +given me dis chile, and blows on the top +of it!’</p> + +<p>She would have said more, but Lizzie +put her hand to her head, and, with a +low cry, passed swiftly from them. The +women gazed after her in astonishment. +They could not understand a nature without +any feeling of revenge in it,—with +only the deepest pain for the sins of one +it loved, and a horror of hearing them +mentioned by others. They thought +that Lizzie had misunderstood them, or +had not heard aright.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>‘Dat’s funny!’ exclaimed Jerusha. +‘’Pears I didn’t put things right, or she +would have smacked little Henri on the +head, or killed him dead, as I’d like to +kill dat baby at de bungalow.’</p> + +<p>‘Missy Liz not one of <i>our</i> sort,’ said +Jessica. ‘She allays berry quiet and +gentle, but I guess she <i>feel</i> same as +rest.’</p> + +<p>‘Does she <i>know</i> about dat baby at de +bungalow?’</p> + +<p>‘I ’spect she knows eberyting, and dat +dese low niggers say it is <i>her</i> chile: same +as Massa Courcelles did! Poor Miss +Lizzie, she’s too good for us. She +oughter run a knife into him and the +chile too.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s so,’ cried Jerusha; ‘and dat’s +what <i>I</i> will do for her! I full of revenge, +Jessica. I like to get up some night and +fire de Oleander Bungalow, and burn dat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> +man in his bed! I like to stick him wid +knife, same as pig—an’ to make him +drink poison water till he die.’</p> + +<p>‘Better give him de obeah water—dat +safe and silent,’ replied the nurse; +‘but you must do it secret, Jerusha. You +mustn’t tell anybody but me.’</p> + +<p>‘I telling no one; but I watch and +wait, and I hab my revenge. I swear it +on my little Henri’s head!’ said Jerusha +solemnly.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i212.jpg" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i213a.jpg" alt=""></div> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<div> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i213b.jpg" width="75" height="75" alt="M"> +</div> + +<p><span class="drop-cap">M</span>EANWHILE Maraquita, up on +the hill range, was fast recovering +her equanimity. With +Lizzie and the Doctor’s bungalow out of +sight; with her mother’s assurance that +De Courcelles should be banished from +Beauregard before they returned to it; +with recuperated health, and the prospect +of a marriage beyond her most ambitious +dreams, life seemed to stretch out like +one long vista of pleasure before her. +Hers was a shallow, frivolous nature, incapable +of looking beyond the present, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> +of dwelling long upon the past. She was +a terrible coward though, and had she remained +on the plantation, and been subjected +to the entreaties and reproaches of +her lover, might have thrown up everything +to link her fate with his, and regretted +it bitterly for ever afterwards. +The marriage she was about to make with +Sir Russell Johnstone was in reality far +better suited to her. So long as he was +attentive to her, and loaded her with +presents, she didn’t mind his being middle-aged +and ugly, for she had very little +sentiment in her nature, and no idea of +love as it should be betwixt man and +woman. Her notion of a lover was of +some one who must be always paying her +compliments, or giving her pretty things, +or devising schemes for her enjoyment, +and in these particulars Sir Russell was +perfect. He displayed all the infatuation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> +and imbecility which usually attacks an +elderly man who finds himself in sudden +and unexpected possession of a beautiful +girl; and Maraquita could never inhale too +much of the incense of flattery. She +bridled, and simpered, and blushed under +his adoring glances, as if she had never +been subjected to such an ordeal before; +whilst Mrs Courtney would entreat ‘dear +Sir Russell to spare her little girl such +a battery of admiration, or he would +frighten her back into her shell.’ Quita +was beginning to give herself also all the +airs and graces of a Governor’s wife, and +to hold her head above even her own +mother. The Government Bungalow was +charmingly commodious, and filled with +official servants, whom the little lady +ordered about as if they already belonged +to her; and in fact she had already reconciled +herself so effectually to her new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> +position, that she had almost forgotten that +which was just past, and which she was +ready to try and believe had never existed. +She rode with the Governor, and walked +with him, and smiled at his compliments, +and even suffered him to embrace her, +without the least display of repugnance +or dislike. Not that the recollection of +Henri de Courcelles had entirely ceased +to trouble her. She thought of him often, +but with no warmer feeling than fear. +She would start, every now and then, in +the midst of her occupation, to remember +the threat he had made her, and to shiver +under the apprehension that he might +fulfil it. She would run at such times to +her mother, and implore her to find out if +De Courcelles had really left their service, +and if he had quitted San Diego, or +was lingering round Beauregard. She +declared that she never could summon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> +courage to be married until she knew that +there was no fear of her former lover way-laying +her on her way to church, as he had +sworn to do, and perhaps injuring or +frightening her into a betrayal of the secret +between them. Mrs Courtney became so +anxious at last that her daughter’s mind +should be set at rest, that she asked her +husband to join them on the hills for a few +days, thinking it would be safer to confer +with him on the subject by word of mouth, +than through a letter. Mr Courtney came +up as soon as his business would permit +him, and the first moment his wife had +him to herself, she broached the distasteful +subject.</p> + +<p>‘What have you done about De Courcelles, +Mr Courtney? Have you given +him warning to leave us?’</p> + +<p>‘I have, my dear, for I feel very dissatisfied +concerning him. I sent for him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> +as soon as you had left home, as I told +you I should, and informed him that reports +had reached me concerning himself +and Maraquita that I could not pass over +without comment.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mr Courtney! I <i>begged</i> you not to +use our dear girl’s name.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I couldn’t tell him a lie, Nita, +and I really could invent no better excuse +for sending him away. So I thought +honesty would be, as usual, the best +policy.’</p> + +<p>‘But what did he say to it?’ demanded +Mrs Courtney breathlessly. ‘Did he +deny the fact, or—or—tell any falsehoods +about it?’</p> + +<p>‘Not that I am aware of. He neither +admitted nor denied the truth of my +statement, but I could see from his +manner that it had hit home. So I told +him he could stay on the plantation on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> +one condition only, and that was that +he fulfilled his engagement with Lizzie +Fellows.’</p> + +<p>‘I <i>wish</i> you hadn’t,’ replied his wife, +with a look of vexation. ‘I don’t want +him to stay, under any circumstances. +Things can never be the same again +between us after the avowal of his +impudent pretensions, and I can’t see +how the matter would be improved by +his marrying Lizzie Fellows. In fact, +Mr Courtney, I think you should also +try and provide for Lizzie elsewhere, +for Quita can hardly notice her when +she is Lady Johnstone, after what she +has done.’</p> + +<p>‘Nita, I don’t believe she has done +anything she need be ashamed of. I +have full faith in Lizzie, as I have told +you before, and I will not insult her +by a suspicion of wrong. However,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> +with regard to her marrying Henri de +Courcelles, you may set your mind at +rest, for she has refused him.’</p> + +<p>‘Lizzie has <i>refused</i> to marry De Courcelles?’ +exclaimed Mrs Courtney, with +amazement.</p> + +<p>‘Have I not said so? De Courcelles +seemed quite ready to accede +to my proposal, and I gave him a week +to settle it in. Before a couple of days +were over our heads, however, he came +to tell me that it was of no use, and Miss +Fellows had refused to have anything +to do with him. I told him I couldn’t +go back from my word, and that (under +the circumstances) I refused to retain +him on the plantation as an unmarried +man, so I would pay him a quarter’s +salary, and he must clear out in a week. +But before I did so, I walked down +to Lizzie’s bungalow, and had a very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> +plain conversation with her on the +subject.’</p> + +<p>Mrs Courtney’s complexion faded to a +dull yellow.</p> + +<p>‘About the nurse-child? Does she still +deny that it is hers?’</p> + +<p>‘Emphatically, and with such undeniable +sincerity, that I quite believe her. I +would stake my life that she has nothing +to do with that child except to take care +of it. She is a most injured woman, in +my opinion, and I urged her, for her own +sake as well as ours, to do as her father +(were he living) would command her, and +reveal the name of the mother of the +infant.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mr Courtney, how <i>very</i> wrong of +you to try and make Lizzie break her +oath! Why, it would be <i>perjury</i>!’ cried +Mrs Courtney, virtuously indignant, and +trembling with anxiety, ‘and I would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> +rather think she had fallen, than commit +such a crime. Surely she was not so +weak as to be persuaded to do such a +thing?’</p> + +<p>‘No; she is adamant, and her lips are +closed like a vice. She refuses to say +anything upon the subject, excepting to +reiterate her former assertion that the +child is not hers. And she told me the +reason she had rejected Monsieur de +Courcelles’ proposal is because he has +said the same thing of her as other people.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, of course. What can she expect?’ +said his wife, looking infinitely +relieved. ‘It is very hard on the poor +girl, but she is bound to keep her oath; +and people <i>will</i> talk. I have heard the +coolies speaking of it in the most confident +manner, as if they had not the +slightest doubt that she is the baby’s +mother.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>‘I’d like to hear a coolie talking of her +affairs in <i>my</i> presence!’ returned Mr +Courtney, clenching his fist. ‘He +wouldn’t talk again in a hurry. If I +can’t do anything else for the daughter +of my poor dead friend, I will protect +her. But there was something Lizzie +said that somewhat puzzled me, Nita. +In speaking of De Courcelles, she used +these terms,—“<i>He</i>, who of all others +should have died before he accused me +of a crime of which he <i>knew</i> I was guiltless.” +She emphasised the word “<i>knew</i>” +so deeply that it attracted my attention, +and I asked her <i>how</i> De Courcelles should +<i>know</i> of her innocence above other people. +But I could get nothing further out of +her. She blushed to her eyes, poor girl, +and was silent; but I was sure she felt +she had gone too far. What can De +Courcelles know for certain, Nita? Is it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> +possible he can have anything to do +with this mysterious little stranger at the +bungalow?’</p> + +<p>‘Dear me, Mr Courtney, how can <i>I</i> +answer the question?’ exclaimed his wife +pettishly. ‘I don’t see anything peculiar +in Lizzie’s words. She meant, doubtless, +that being her betrothed husband, he +should have had more faith in her virtue; +and so he should. But men judge women +by themselves, and so we seldom come off +scot-free. But are you going to get another +overseer? <i>That</i> is the most important +thing to me. I can’t think of +that De Courcelles’ presumption with any +patience.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes, my dear! it is all settled, and +he leaves us next week. I have already +engaged his successor—Mr Campbell, who +used to manage the Glendinning estates +before old Mr Houston died. He bears<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> +an excellent character, and, I trust, +may prove all we require. He is noted +for his kindness to his coolies; and I +am afraid De Courcelles has not raised +the character of Beauregard in that +respect.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, he is a wretch all round!’ cried +Mrs Courtney; ‘and I shall not breathe +freely till he is gone. I hope he will leave +the island altogether.’</p> + +<p>‘That I cannot tell you, for I have +nothing to do with his movements after +he quits the plantation. I think he is +sure to do so, however, as he is not a +favourite in San Diego, and would find +it difficult to get another situation here. +But let us talk of something more pleasant, +Nita. How is our Maraquita getting +on with the Governor? Is it all plain +sailing?’</p> + +<p>‘<i>Plain sailing?</i>’ echoed Mrs Courtney.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> +‘What a term to apply to it. Why, they +positively <i>adore</i> each other, my dear, and +are never happy when apart. Sir Russell +is only <i>too</i> charming. He follows Quita +about everywhere, and waits on her like +a slave. He has given her the most +exquisite diamond pendant, and an Arab +horse that cost him two hundred pounds. +I am longing to see our darling installed +as the mistress of Government House. +Sir Russell means to go over to Trinidad +for the honeymoon. The Government +steamer will take them on board directly +after the wedding-breakfast; and they will +be absent for a month. The day after they +return to Government House, the marriage +will be celebrated by a splendid ball. He +is going to issue invitations to everybody +in the island—high and low. Isn’t it +noble of Sir Russell? But he says he +would ask the whole world, if he could,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span> +to witness his triumph in the possession of +so lovely a bride.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t wonder at his enthusiasm,’ exclaimed +the father, ‘for he has got the +loveliest girl in the British possessions! +But what about her fal-lals, my dear? +Can they be got ready in time?’</p> + +<p>‘Only just enough to go on with, Mr +Courtney; but Sir Russell is as impatient +as a boy of twenty, and refuses to wait a +day over the month. I have sent my +orders to England, as you desired me; +but, of course, they can’t be here in time. +The wedding-dress I can luckily supply. +Perhaps you have forgotten the exquisite +dress of Honiton lace you gave me when +the dear child was born. I am having it +made up over white satin; and she could +wear nothing, Sir Russell says, more elegant +or appropriate. As the happy event +is taking place in the hot season, Maraquita<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> +can wear nothing but white muslin +and lace, which I shall have no trouble in +procuring for her; and by the time the +rainy season sets in, her dresses will have +arrived from England. Really, Mr Courtney, +it seems as if the fates smiled upon +her, for nothing could be more fortunate +than everything has turned out.’</p> + +<p>The planter acquiesced in his wife’s +opinion, and the few days he spent on the +hills confirmed it as his own. No two +people could appear to be happier than +Quita and her <i>fiancé</i>. She suffered herself +to be loved, and caressed, and petted +to any extent; and Sir Russell was always +ready to gratify her. Her proud father +thought she looked lovelier than ever, +under the consciousness of her coming +honours, and went back to Beauregard +fully satisfied that she was the most fortunate +girl in the world. But as the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> +time passed on, and the moment drew +near when the mother and daughter +must also quit the hills, Quita’s agitation +became very apparent.</p> + +<p>‘Mamma,’ she would say, in a horrified +whisper, clinging fast to her mother’s +hand, ‘are you quite, <i>quite</i> sure <i>he</i> has +left Beauregard?’</p> + +<p>‘Quite sure, my dearest. Your father +sent him away a fortnight ago, and +Mr Campbell, the new overseer, is +living at the Oleander Bungalow in his +stead.’</p> + +<p>‘But might he not be hiding somewhere +near? At Shanty Hill, or in the +Miners’ Gulch? There are public-houses +in both those places.’</p> + +<p>‘Quita, my child, you must get over +this foolish fear. In the first place, your +father is quite convinced that De Courcelles +has left San Diego, as there is no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> +vacant situation in the island for which +he could apply; and in the second, even +if he were in the neighbourhood he would +not dare to speak to you, far less to try +and injure you.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, mamma, you don’t know Henri! +You should have seen his eyes when he +said he would stab me at the altar. He +is terrible when he is in a rage. And I +feel convinced he will keep his word. He +will hang about Beauregard till my wedding-day, +and then he will hide in the +church and shoot me, and I shall die +in my wedding-dress, bespattered with +blood!’ replied Quita, relapsing into tears +at the awful picture she had conjured up +in her imagination.</p> + +<p>‘Quita, you will make yourself ill if +you go on like this!’ said Mrs Courtney, +with grave solicitude. ‘You are really +too silly to be reasoned with. Do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> +you forget you are going to be the +Governor’s wife? You are not going +to marry a nobody, but a man high +in position and power, and no one +will dare to assail you either by word +or deed. The church in which you +are married will be lined with the +military; and if you are nervous, +Sir Russell will have a special guard +of honour to protect you. But don’t +let <i>him</i> guess at any of your nervous +fears, for Heaven’s sake, or he may +get curious to learn the cause of them. +Rely on me, Quita, that all will be +well.’</p> + +<p>‘But there is another thing, mamma,’ +said the girl, after a pause. ‘I am horribly +afraid that old Jessica knows too +much. One night when—when—I had +been at the bungalow, I found her awake +and watching for my return. And two<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> +or three times she has muttered hints +that I could not misunderstand.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Quita, Quita, what trouble you +have got yourself into. It seems as if +we should never surmount the difficulties +in our path. I shall know no peace until +you are Lady Johnstone.’</p> + +<p>‘Nor I either, mamma! But can’t we +send Jessica away too? I don’t intend +to take her to Government House, and +you will have no use for her when I am +gone.’</p> + +<p>‘My dear, I am afraid it would be +dangerous to dismiss her. She would +guess the reason, and these negroes are +very revengeful. They will serve you +to the death, so long as you make them +your friends; but once turn round on +them, and their malice knows no bounds. +Jessica has been with you since your +birth, and to send her adrift just as you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> +are going to be married, would be to set +her tongue going like a mill-wheel. No, +Quita, you must pursue a more politic +course! I think we made a mistake in +not bringing Jessica up to the hills with +us. Had I known what you tell me +now, I would not have consented to +her being left behind; but you must +take her some presents when we return, +and do all in your power to conciliate +her. Don’t encourage any familiarity, +nor appear to understand any hints she +may give you, but keep her in a good +temper, my dear child, until after the +fourteenth, whatever you do.’</p> + +<p>Acting on her mother’s advice, Maraquita +took a gaily-coloured shawl and +a necklace of gilt beads to Jessica when +she returned to the White House, and +made the old nurse’s heart repent that +she had been led into repeating any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> +scandal about her missy. But the departure +of the overseer was too important +an event to be passed over in +silence, and Maraquita was doomed to +hear a repetition of what was thought +concerning it in the coolie quarters.</p> + +<p>‘Missy seen de new oberseer?’ Jessica +commenced, the first moment they +were left alone. ‘He berry fine man,—broader +den Massa Courcelles, and +plenty more colour in face; nice hair +too—same colour as de carrots—and a +soft voice, kinder like a woman’s.’</p> + +<p>‘No, Jessica, I haven’t seen him yet; +but papa has asked him to dine with us +this evening.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, Missy won’t like him same as +Massa Courcelles, for sure,—but Massa +Campbell good man for all dat, and +Massa Courcelles berry bad man—all de +niggers dance when he go ’way, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> +Jerusha she throw mud after him, and +frighten his horse so he stand right up +on his two legs.’</p> + +<p>‘Was he hurt?’ cried Quita suddenly.</p> + +<p>However frivolous a woman may be, +she cannot quite lose all interest, at a +moment’s notice, in the man she has +loved.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, missy! Massa Courcelles +same like part of horse. He nebber +thrown; only, he swear and curse plenty +at Jerusha.’</p> + +<p>‘Who <i>is</i> Jerusha?’ asked Quita, betrayed +by curiosity into forgetting her +studied reticence; ‘and why should she +throw dirt at Monsieur de Courcelles?’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, missy not knowing. Jerusha only +a poor coolie, but all de niggers would +throw dirt at Massa Courcelles if they +dared. But he been berry bad man to +poor Jerusha—same as he been to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> +my missy,’ added Jessica, in a lower +tone.</p> + +<p>Maraquita turned deathly white.</p> + +<p>‘How has he hurt Jerusha?’ she asked, +in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>‘He’s left her with a baby, Missy +Quita—a nice baby, too, most as white +as himself, with his eyes and hair; but +Jerusha feel bad about it, ’cause he’s +treated her berry cruel, and whipt them +both with de cowhide.’</p> + +<p>Maraquita turned her head aside, and +burst into tears. She would have given +worlds that the old nurse should not +have witnessed her emotion, but she +could not restrain it. How true it is +that the love of most women is founded +on vanity, and that even if they do not +want a man themselves, they cannot +bear that any one else should have him. +Besides, this degrading <i>liaison</i> with a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> +coolie girl had taken place at the very +time that Henri de Courcelles had been +swearing eternal love to herself. Quita +did indeed feel at that moment that she +had parted with a woman’s best possession +for nothing. She had never been +so terribly humiliated before. Jessica +was not slow to take advantage of her +young mistress’s weakness.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t cry, missy,’ she said; ‘dat man +not worth one tear from my missy’s bright +eyes. He false and cruel, and got bad +heart. Missy forget all about dis trouble +when she marry de Governor. And +Missy Liz will keep de secret, nebber +fear, and old Jessica too. Nobody tell +nuffin, de Governor nebber know, and +den eberyting go right.’</p> + +<p>But this allusion roused the instinctive +fear in Maraquita’s bosom. She forgot +her mother’s caution, and the folly of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> +resenting the old nurse’s hints. She forgot +everything, except the awful fear of +exposure, and in her alarm she played +her worst card, and turned round upon +Jessica like a fury.</p> + +<p>‘What do you mean by speaking to +me like that?’ she panted. ‘How <i>dare</i> +you pretend to think that I cried because +I was in trouble for any one but the poor +coolie girl? I know I am a fool to feel +such things. Any one is a fool who +wastes a tear on you coloured people, +for you are all false, and mischief-making, +and scandalous; but it is too bad that +you should speak as though I were crying +for myself. What trouble could I be +in? I have everything I want, and in +a few days I shall marry the Governor, +and none of you will dare to say a word +against me; and if you do, Sir Russell +will have you whipped, and put in prison,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> +and you may lie and die there, for aught +I care.’</p> + +<p>It was a foolish and childish rage in +which she indulged, but Quita was not +much raised above the coloured people +she professed to scorn, either in intellect +or education. Yet it was sufficient to +excite the desire for revenge in the +object of her wrath.</p> + +<p>‘Missy have me whipped and put in +prison?’ she shrieked; ‘<i>me</i>—who hab +nursed her in my bosom, ever since +she was a tiny baby? Oh, no, Missy +Quita, you nebber mean dat! I will +tell Massa Courtney, and de Governor, +eberyting before dat. I tell dem all +I know. I clare de character of poor +Missy Liz, down at de Doctor’s bungalow, +and I tell <i>whose</i> child dat is what she +nurse day and night.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Jessica!’ cried Maraquita, frightened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> +beyond expression, as she threw +herself on her knees before the +old negress, ‘don’t say that. I was +beside myself. I didn’t stop to weigh +my words. I know you are good and +faithful, and will be true to me, and +keep my terrible secret, for you wouldn’t +ruin your poor little missy who loves +you; would you, Jessica?’</p> + +<p>But the old negress was not to be so +easily conciliated. She looked very surly, +even whilst Maraquita’s white arms were +wreathed about her withered neck.</p> + +<p>‘Missy Quita, you berry ungrateful gal,’ +she murmured presently. ‘How many +nights I sit up and watch and wait, while +you flirting wid dat overseer, fear your +moder or some one come and find you +out? Den when you taken bad, ole Jess +know your trouble all de time, and nebber +speak one word. But now you going<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> +to be grand rich lady, you want to +kick old Jessica out, and forget all +she done for you. But I won’t be +kicked out, Missy Quita. You must +take me to Government House, and +give me good wages, or I won’t keep +your secret any longer; and it isn’t +no good saying I’m ungrateful, missy, +’cause you were ungrateful first, and you +knows it.’</p> + +<p>Maraquita saw the terrible mistake she +had made, when it was too late. Why +had she not remembered her mother’s +advice to conciliate the old negress +until the marriage was an accomplished +fact? <i>Then</i>, Mrs Courtney would have +devised some plan to keep her quiet. +But now there was but one course open +to her,—to promise to give Jessica everything +she demanded, however unreasonable.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>‘Why, of course, Nursey,’ she answered, +with assumed playfulness. ‘Did you think +I was going to leave my old darkey +behind? What should I do without +you? You shall come to Government +House as soon as I am settled there, +and dress me in the mornings, as you +have always been used to do; and +perhaps some day you may nurse my +little children as you nursed me. Will +that content you, Jessica?’ she added, +with trembling lips that ill-concealed her +anxiety.</p> + +<p>‘And missy will raise my wages?’ +demanded the negress; ‘Governor’s lady +give better wages than planter’s daughter, +and I hab worked for eighteen +long years in your service, Missy +Quita.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes! You shall have any wages +you like, Jessica. I shall tell Sir Russell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> +what a good servant you have been +to me, and he will be proud to reward +you. But perhaps you would rather +have a pension,’ said Quita wistfully, +‘or a lump sum of money, that will +enable you to go back to your own +country, and live there.’</p> + +<p>‘No, missy; I rather live and die with +you. You seem like my own child to +me, and San Diego like my country. I +no want go way; and if missy good to +me, I keep her secrets always, and no +one shall hear ole Jess tell de truth +about her.’</p> + +<p>Maraquita felt this was only a compromise, +but she had no alternative but +to accept it. There was a hard, stony +look in old Jessica’s eyes that alarmed +her, and made her doubt her promises +of fidelity. She was not slow to perceive, +either, the mercenary motive of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> +her demand for higher wages, but she +could not afford to comment on it. She +had put herself in the power of another +woman—the most terrible bondage the +sex is ever subjected to—and she saw +no way to loosen her chains, except by +perfect acquiescence. But she loathed +the old negress, even while she forced +herself to caress her. The affection of +her whole life seemed to have faded +beneath the ordeal to which it had been +subjected. Jessica was no longer the +kind and faithful nurse who had tended +her from her infancy, and to whom she +had run in every dilemma, but a hard +and grasping creditor, who had possession +of that which might ruin her +life, and demanded her very blood in +ransom. However, there seemed no way +but one out of the scrape, and so Maraquita +promised to do all and everything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> +that the negress might require, and tried +to soothe her ruffled feelings with soft +words and caresses.</p> + +<p>But she did not feel sure that she +had succeeded, even though Jessica paid +her some honied compliments in return, +and lay down in her bed that +night longing more than ever that +the wedding-day had come and +gone.</p> + +<p>All went smoothly, however. No one +saw or heard anything further of Henri de +Courcelles, nor was Quita even annoyed +by the mention of his name. He seemed +to have totally disappeared from Beauregard, +and Mr Courtney fully believed +that he had left the island. The old +nurse made no further disagreeable +allusions to the past, and appeared to +be as devoted to her young mistress as +she had ever been, so that Maraquita<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> +regained her lightness of heart, and +turned her attention entirely to the +brilliant prospects before her. The fourteenth +was close at hand, and the preparations +for the Governor’s wedding, +which was to take place in the Fort +church, were on a scale of magnificence +never before attempted in San Diego. +The church was to be embowered in +flowers; the military were to line the +road leading to it; half the gentry in the +island were to be engaged in singing a +choral service; and a splendid barouche, +drawn by four horses, and preceded by +a guard of honour, was to convey the +newly-married couple back to Beauregard.</p> + +<p>Here, naturally, all were in a flutter. +Mrs Courtney, never a good housekeeper, +was nearly out of her mind over the +wedding-breakfast and the completion of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span> +Maraquita’s dress, and was thankful to +delegate the issuing of the invitations to +her husband and her daughter. Mr +Courtney made out the list of names, +whilst Maraquita wrote the invitations in +a very irregular hand on gold-edged +paper. Half-way down the list she +came upon the name of Miss Fellows.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Lizzie?</i>’ she exclaimed, with rather +rashly expressed astonishment.</p> + +<p>‘Of course! why not?’ returned her +father quickly.</p> + +<p>‘Well, because, although <i>we</i> don’t +believe the reports about her, papa, +<i>other</i> people do, and some of the ladies +of San Diego might object to meet +her.’</p> + +<p>Mr Courtney consigned the ladies of +San Diego to a warmer region, but +held to his determination.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>‘There shall be no festivity held in +my house to which Lizzie Fellows is +not invited,’ he answered sternly; ‘and +the fact that she is still welcomed here, +will be the best denial of these infamous +calumnies against her. I should +be ashamed of you, my daughter, if you +consented to her name being omitted +from our guests. The poor girl has +suffered enough from the death of her +father, and the rascality of that scoundrel +De Courcelles, to say nothing of these +cruel rumours, without our turning our +backs upon her.’</p> + +<p>The mention of De Courcelles’ name +was enough to stop Maraquita’s tongue, +and she wrote the invitation without +further comment. Only, as both she +and her mother anticipated, Lizzie’s +reply was in the negative. She made +her recent loss the excuse for not joining<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> +in any gaiety; but Maraquita and +Mrs Courtney knew that after the insults +they had hurled at her, she would +never place her foot voluntarily again +within the walls of the White House.</p> + +<p class="center">END OF VOL. II.</p> +<hr class="tiny"> +<p class="center">COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/back_cover.jpg" alt="back cover"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> +<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> + +<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> +</div></div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75275 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75275-h/images/back_cover.jpg b/75275-h/images/back_cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5cc6936 --- /dev/null +++ b/75275-h/images/back_cover.jpg diff --git a/75275-h/images/cover.jpg b/75275-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7e7583 --- 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