"I curse you--curse you!" she cried aloud, springing to her feet in a fresh paroxysm and frenzy, flinging her clenched hands aloft, her features livid with rage. But what did her mingled transports of grief and pain and anger avail her? There was no redress, no appeal from the decision of destiny. It was fate, and she had been singled out for the sacrifice. Again she cried out in agony of heart and soul. Had she been strong like the other woman, he must have loved her--his love never could have died!

The thought of Chiquita brought her to herself in a measure, and as she slowly began to pace the floor, Don Felipe's words came back to her. If she did not possess Jack, no other woman should. Besides, she knew what he did not know--that even if he wished to, he could not marry Chiquita.

A grim smile flitted across her countenance as the knowledge of this fact flashed through her mind, the only ray of light in the chaos into which she had been plunged by that misguided, luckless decision on her part--her refusal to follow the Captain while he was still hers.

She knew it was purely revenge that had prompted Don Felipe to run her rival's secret to earth, and she despised him for it. It was not so with her--the thought of revenge had not entered into her calculations. But neither Chiquita nor the Captain would escape. It was justice, nothing more nor less; for they, too, like her, stood before the tribunal of destiny and must bow to its decrees the same as she had been forced to bow to them. Yes, she would give the signal to Don Felipe that night; it was the only right thing to do.

She was calmer now, and when Rosita knocked lightly at her door and entered the room to a.s.sist her in dressing for the evening, no one would have suspected the ache at her heart or the storm-swept soul which her calm exterior concealed.

XXIX

Padre Antonio sat before the open window in his living-room in a large, comfortable chair, enjoying the beauty of the evening and the fragrance of the last flowers in the garden, waiting for Chiquita to complete her toilet.

It was one of those soft, balmy autumnal evenings, and gave promise of a night of majesty and serenity when the moon rose in her full glory to hold her silent watch over the earth once more. It was sweet to live on such a day as this, when all the world seemed at peace; and what a perfect night for the _fandango_. Presently the sound of light footsteps and the soft rustle of a dress interrupted the train of his thoughts, causing him to turn from the window to Chiquita, who, attired in her ball dress, entered the room and paused before him.

There was not an inharmonious touch in her attire of soft creamy satin and lace, richly embroidered with golden flowers. Delicate filmy threads of gold intersected the heavy white Valenciennes lace mantilla attached to her high silver comb, etched in gold and studded with diminutive diamonds, which sparkled in the light like dew in the sunshine. Her white satin slippers and silk stockings, like her corsage and _saya_, were also delicately worked in gold. A sheaf of golden poppies adorned one side of her head, nestling close down upon her neck and shoulder in the folds of her jet black hair. She presented a truly striking appearance, and Padre Antonio gazed long and silently at her, his keen eyes scanning her critically from head to foot in an effort to detect a fault.

How he loved his little girl! It almost seemed as though she were endowed with something more than earthly beauty. In her the strength and grace of the deer and panther were blended with the ethereal delicacy and beauty of the flower. But it was her face that bespoke the luminous nature of the soul which dwelt within her. So close was the bond of sympathy and mutual understanding between them, that she instinctively half divined his thoughts and it gave her courage.

"Will I do, Padre _mio_?" she asked with a slight hesitancy, smiling and looking down at him inquiringly. The question was so characteristic of her that he could only smile in response.

"Chiquita _mia_--there's one thing lacking," he said at length, the far-away, dreamy look fading from his eyes.

"Something lacking?" she repeated in surprise, turning and casting an involuntary glance at the small mirror on the wall opposite in a vain effort to catch a full view of herself.

"Yes, Senorita," he answered knowingly, almost mysteriously. "But it's not your fault. It sometimes takes the discerning eye of a man to perceive what a woman's toilet lacks."

What can it be, she asked herself, looking wonderingly and inquiringly up into his face, and then turning to follow him with her gaze as, without further comment, he left the room and slowly ascended the stairs to his study on the floor above. He paused for an instant on entering the room, then walked straight to his desk at the other end; a large upright piece of furniture of ancient pine made in the mission style and stained dark to represent oak, which, owing to its age, it closely resembled. Pulling out the middle drawer, he pushed back a secret panel on the inside, disclosing an opening in the back of the desk from which he drew a small sandalwood box which, on being opened, contained a silver casket, richly chased and of an antique design.

Years had elapsed since he last looked upon it, and he regarded it curiously for some moments as he held it in his hands. Then setting it down upon the desk, he turned the small key which unlocked it and raised the lid, disclosing its contents, which consisted of a fan, a bracelet of six strands of large pearls with a diamond clasp in the shape of a crown, and a long, magnificent necklace of still larger pearls, also composed of six strands, like the bracelet, and a large diamond slide also in the shape of a crown. The fan was one of those exquisite, daintily hand-painted French creations of ivory, lace and vellum of a century gone by. On one of the outer ribs was also a small diamond crown and on the other was traced a name in letters of gold. A delicate fragrance like that of withered rose leaves escaped the casket, and, as he silently contemplated its contents, his gaze fell upon the name on the fan--Chiquita Pia Maria Roxan Concepcion Salvatore--the name was much longer, but his eyes dimmed--he could read no further.

Instinctively he raised the casket with both hands and was in the act of pressing his lips to its contents, when he caught sight of a crucifix on the desk in front of him, causing him to pause, cross himself reverently and lower the casket again.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Instinctively he raised the casket with both hands."]

Who was Padre Antonio? Involuntarily his thoughts traveled back over the stream of years when, as a youth of twenty, he bade farewell to old Spain forever and with a heavy heart set forth alone to find G.o.d and peace in the wilderness of the new world. Fifty years had pa.s.sed since then and with them, the secret and tragedy of his life lay buried.

He heaved a deep sigh and, picking up the casket, turned toward the door. Chiquita listened to the sound of his footsteps as he slowly descended the stairs, and gazed in wonderment at the casket he held in his hand when he reentered the room. Without a word, he deposited it upon the table in the center of the room and, raising the lid, displayed its contents to the dazzled eyes of his ward. Never had she beheld such wonderful jewels--what did it mean?

"Padre _mio_!" she gasped, her eyes wandering questioningly from the casket to his face, which appeared a little paler than when he left the room but a few minutes before.

"I never imagined that another woman would ever be created worthy to wear them," he said quietly, picking up the bracelet and fastening it about her left wrist, and winding the necklace twice round her throat, the ends falling down over her bosom to her waist. "May G.o.d's blessing forever rest upon you, my child," he added, making the sign of the cross above her, and stooping, he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Involuntarily her hand went out for the fan, and as her eyes fell on the name upon it, her woman's instinct told her all.

"Padre--Padre _mio_!" she cried, and throwing her arms about his neck, burst into a pa.s.sionate flood of tears on his breast.

"There, there, my child!" he said at last, regaining his accustomed composure. "I now know why I was never able to part with them--not even to the Church. I was keeping them for you."

"But I'm not worthy to wear them, Padre!" she exclaimed.

"Tut, tut!" he replied. "The ways of G.o.d are past all understanding.

When I think of how you came to me unsought and unbidden, and now, how Captain Forest of a different race--"

"Oh, Padre, do you think I stand a chance of winning him?" she interrupted, looking inquiringly up into his face as if to read the answer there.

"Ah! that is a difficult question, my child. Love and intrigue are such uncertain quant.i.ties to deal with, you know. Yet it seems strange that he should have come into your life at this juncture. Captain Forest," he went on after a pause, "is a great man. As you know, we have talked much together of late on that most interesting of all topics--life. And it seems to me that if ever G.o.d had plainly indicated his wish, you have been reserved for one another to perform his will. Of course, I can not say this for a certainty, but it appears so to me, and to see your hands and hearts joined together will be the crowning joy of my life--"

Suddenly his left hand went to his heart, where he experienced a sharp pain. A dizziness seized him, causing him to lean heavily upon her for support.

"Padre _mio_--what is it?" she cried in alarm. "You are not well! We'll not go to the _fiesta_ to-night--'tis better we remain at home!"

"It's nothing--nothing, my child," he answered, after the dizziness had pa.s.sed. "It's only a slight attack of indigestion, like the one I had last summer while engaged in the mission work. You know," he added lightly, "I'm no longer as young as I was--such things must be expected." All day long she had experienced a dread of impending disaster which she could not shake off, and which she naturally connected with Don Felipe. But why go to the _Posada_ that evening if Padre Antonio was not feeling well--there would be other days.

Again she protested and urged him to remain at home, but in vain--he would not hear of it.

"It will do me good to go," he said, helping her on with her long white silk Spanish mantle, embroidered with gold and lace to match her dress.

Then, drawing on his black silk gloves, he picked up his hat and stick, and they pa.s.sed out into the garden and through the tall iron gate, turning their steps in the direction of the _Posada_.

x.x.x

The garden and _patio_ of the _Posada_ were hung with many lanterns whose light, in addition to that of the stars and the full moon, made them appear as bright as day.

Mrs. Forest maintained a frigid att.i.tude toward the world throughout the evening. Inwardly she longed to be gay like the others, but prudery and short-sightedness, the fruits of her training, prevailed, effectually debarring her from all enjoyment and leaving her cold and isolated like one afflicted with the plague. Could she have followed the dictates of her wishes, she would have remained within the seclusion of her room during the entire evening, but not being able to reconcile such a course with the duties of a chaperon, she was obliged to appear. If _n.o.blesse oblige_ demanded that she should sacrifice herself, suffer the martyred isolation of patience on a monument, then be it so!

As for Colonel Van Ashton, he had suffered long enough. He secretly despised his sister's prudery though he dared not acknowledge it.

Anything to break the infernal monotony! He welcomed this occasion of mild revelry with sensations akin to those of a boy's during the advent of a circus in his town. Of all the State and grand social functions in which he had partic.i.p.ated, not one, so far as he could remember, had ever inspired him with such antic.i.p.ations. An indescribable joy and spirit of recklessness, born of desperation, filled him, and he silently vowed that he would drink to the moon that night even though there might perchance be blood upon it.

Owing to the attack of dizziness which had occasioned a slight delay, Padre Antonio and his ward were the last of the guests to arrive. Low murmurs and suppressed exclamations escaped the Spanish element of the a.s.sembly as Chiquita entered the _patio_ on the padre's arm. If they had been enraptured by the beauty of Blanch and Bessie and loud in their praises of their jewels and exquisite gowns, they were crushed by Chiquita's appearance, clad as she was in white and gold, a dress they had never seen before, and adorned with jewels, the magnificence of which they had not dreamed.

At last the mystery of the golden _pesos_ was solved--the jewels of course! A great weight slipped from the souls of the Spanish women as they gazed in envy and amazement upon the person they hated most in all the world.

Happy, blissful ignorance--thrice blessed by the G.o.ds were they! Those golden _pesos_ would not have purchased a single strand in her bracelet, while as to the necklace, its value would have purchased the entire _Posada_ and many broad acres besides. Don Felipe and the Americans had seen such jewels before in the world of fashion, but how came Chiquita by them? Who was she? Blanch and Bessie began asking themselves. That she had timed her entrance well, all admitted; though in reality she had thought nothing about it--chance had favored her, that was all.

Interesting though the subject under discussion had become, there was little time left the company for further speculation before Juan Ramon, the major-domo, announced supper.

The musicians struck up a lively Spanish air. The night was mild and soft, the stars and moon glittered overhead, the wine flowed and the sounds of laughter and gay, merry voices echoed throughout the _patio_.

The company sat long at the tables, tempted by innumerable dainties, and encouraged and soothed by the wine, the night and soft strains of music.

Not even in the old days had the _Posada_ witnessed a gayer scene.

Indeed, for the time being, they had returned like a far-off echo of those times when Dona Fernandez reigned supreme in her beauty and men admired and flattered and paid homage to her. Little wonder she sighed in the midst of the gayety and alternately flushed and paled as her thoughts traveled back over the years.

Don Felipe was in an exultant mood. That morning his horse had stumbled and later, while dressing for the evening, a bat flitted in and out of his room through the open window. The fact that these two signs of ill omen did not affect a mind ordinarily subject to the influence of superst.i.tion, showed the state of his confidence. He drank freely of the wine and laughed and talked incessantly. What an opportunity to spring the trap he had laid for Chiquita!

"If Captain Forest proposes to her to-night, she'll never lift her eyes to the world again," he whispered to Blanch beside whom he sat.