x.x.xIII

Captain Forest's feelings are better imagined than described. His brain was in a whirl, on fire. For the second time a woman had treated his confidence lightly. The whole world seemed to spin round him in chaotic confusion as he sought to lay hold of a single, tangible thought that might temper his judgment, steady his nerves and check the fierce outbursts of pa.s.sion which were fast sweeping him beyond self-control.

He had reached a state of recklessness that renders a man of his temperament most dangerous, and unless his judgment soon got the better of his pa.s.sions, he would, as likely as not, either kill Chiquita or Don Felipe, or both of them.

The company had broken up shortly after the departure of Chiquita and Padre Antonio, leaving the _patio_ silent and deserted, save for the presence of the Captain, who paced silently back and forth; the moon flooding the _patio_ with broad sheets of white light, causing objects to appear almost as sharp and distinct as before the lights of the lanterns were extinguished.

Blanch, who was the last to leave, would have offered him her sympathy, but on approaching him, he gave her a look so terrifying that even she dared not speak to him. She accordingly retired to her room and seated herself before the open window from which she commanded a view of the court and could observe him at her leisure. Perhaps he will come to his senses now, she thought. At any rate, he now knew what she suffered. She experienced a feeling of cruel satisfaction and exultation while calmly watching the struggle going on within him as he paced slowly back and forth.

How strange that they should be there in that out-of-the-way place! In spite of the terrible ordeal through which she had pa.s.sed and the dramatic climax in which the struggle had just culminated, it still appeared so unreal, so unnatural to her, that she wondered whether she was not still dreaming and must soon awaken to find herself back in the old life again and Jack near her, as in the old days. Who could have foreseen this tragedy, this end to their lives? But a few months previous all things appeared so clear and defined, so definitely ordained for them.

Truly the future was veiled--a sealed book for man! Had she been permitted to dip for but an instant beneath the cover of that book, or lift the veil ever so little, the catastrophe that had overtaken them and the suffering it entailed might have been averted.

But no. The strange nemesis that had pursued them step by step had been permitted to wreck their lives completely. And for what end--what purpose? Was there no justice, no recompense for them? The answer, she somehow felt, lay not here, but with the stars--in the great universal scheme of things, and was quite beyond her reasoning powers.

She felt the utter hopelessness of longer struggling against the unseen, and in that hour she became a fatalist. Better drift from day to day without purpose, than living, behold one's dreams and ambitions come to naught. She was like a strong, self-confident swimmer who had been caught by the tide and was being swept irresistibly out to sea. Blurred though her vision was, she seemed to see things clearer than she had ever seen them before, and she somehow felt that the fate which had overtaken her was the result of self-aggrandizement--that she in a measure typified the pa.s.sing or end of a condition out of whose decay the new life must spring.

Submit she must, and yet a fierce resentment against all things filled her soul. She rebelled at the apparent injustice which she felt had been done her. Why had she, the most fit, been chosen? What had she really done to merit such an end? She realized that her trouble was unalterable; that it had its root in the social scheme of things and nothing she could do could alter it. That in reality it was no fault of hers, but the fault of her bringing up; that the world which she had been taught to respect as a thing representing truth and beauty, all that is best in man, was only a mocking illusion.

The injustice of it amazed, appalled, stunned her. She seemed to think and move like one in a dream, struggling with shadowy, intangible forces with which she was incapable to cope. The thought that it was not her fault only added to her bitterness and agony, and she longed for death--the death that knows no awakening--to be blotted out utterly, and forever. Her life was devoid of hope, there was nothing to look forward to, the future had become a blank.

A low moan, in which was expressed the despair and agony of men since the beginning of time, escaped her. She pressed her cold hands to her burning, throbbing temples and prayed that, whatever her end might be, it would come swiftly.

Again she raised her head and glanced through the open window. To her surprise she saw the tall form of d.i.c.k Yankton leaning against one of the pillars of the arcade that ran round the _patio_. He was smoking quietly and observing the Captain, who still strode back and forth apparently unaware of his presence. Suddenly the Captain stopped short as if he had come to a decision. As he did so, he turned half round and saw d.i.c.k, whom he regarded for some moments in silence. Then, going over to where he stood, she heard him exclaim: "It's not true, d.i.c.k, I don't believe it. I'm going to her now and tell her so!" At the same instant she also saw Don Felipe glide noiselessly and stealthily from one of the doors opening on to the _patio_ and pause in the deep shadow of the arcade next to the wall, close to where they stood. Instantly she was on her feet and leaning forward, breathless and eager to catch all that was said.

"Neither do I believe it," answered d.i.c.k. "But I wouldn't have told you so. I wanted you to make up your mind first, and if you hadn't said so just now, I wouldn't show you this, either," he continued, drawing from his inner coat pocket a large envelope from which he took a letter and handed it to the Captain.

She saw the sheet of paper tremble in the Captain's hands as he read its contents. Again d.i.c.k handed him another sheet somewhat larger and darker than the first. He seized it eagerly, glancing hurriedly over its contents, his hands trembling more violently than before.

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed excitedly, looking at d.i.c.k. "And yet," he added, "it's not so strange after all; it's so natural!"

Blanch uttered a suppressed cry. She felt that her last chance of winning back the Captain was gone forever. It was a last stab at her heart. At this juncture Jose appeared from out the shadows of the garden beyond the _patio_ and hurriedly approached them. She heard him say something in Spanish which she did not understand. Then, all became blurred before her eyes. She felt herself begin to sway and totter--she fainted.

Following Jose, the Captain and d.i.c.k came upon Starlight, quietly cropping the gra.s.s in the garden, just outside the corral. On hearing their approach, the Chestnut raised his head, and, seeing his master, gave a low whinny of recognition. Close beside him on the gra.s.s lay a dark, shapeless object which, on closer inspection, proved to be the remains of Juan Ramon, trampled almost beyond recognition by the stallion's terrible hoofs.

While Chiquita was being confronted by Don Felipe and the attention of every one was occupied by the scene that followed, Juan seized the opportunity for which he had been waiting. Stealing quietly away to the corrals, he deftly flung a _riata_ over the stallion's head, and, looping it about the animal's nose, was on his back with a bound.

There was no question of Juan's ability to ride him. Once on a horse's back, he had never yet been unseated. He had expected the Chestnut to rear and plunge, to fight desperately on finding a stranger on his back and he was prepared for it, but greatly to his surprise, the horse showed no signs of fight and went meekly out of the corral at his bidding. All went well until they reached the garden, and Juan was beginning to congratulate himself on making his escape so easily, when suddenly and without warning, the Chestnut stopped short, reached round with his head, and seizing Juan by the leg with his teeth, jerked him to the ground. Juan heard the stallion's fierce cry of rage, and--that was the end.

The luck had changed again for Juan, and with it vanished his fair dream of life on the little _hacienda_ with the pretty Rosita.

Jose had long been aware of Juan's intentions regarding the horse, and laughed quietly to himself as he thought of the trap Juan was laying for himself. That afternoon he appeared to be drinking heavily, and early in the evening feigned intoxication in order that Juan might go to his death which he knew awaited him should he so much as lay his hand on the horse.

When Blanch regained consciousness once more, she found herself in a half sitting and kneeling posture before the window with one arm resting on the sill. She must have been unconscious for some time, for when she came to herself, she again saw Captain Forest and d.i.c.k standing in the _patio_ conversing in low tones. They soon separated, d.i.c.k going into the house, and the Captain making his way through the garden. She knew he was on his way to Chiquita. She also saw Don Felipe steal from the shadow of his concealment and follow him.

A great fear seized her. She felt the imminence of a disaster greater than that which had already occurred. Something terrible was about to happen. The thought aroused her to action and she hurriedly rose to her feet. If possible, she would prevent that final catastrophe which her intuition told her was imminent--which she knew must overtake either one or all three of them should Don Felipe and the Captain meet again that night in Chiquita's presence.

There was not a moment to lose, and seizing a light wrap which lay on a chair beside her, she flung it about her shoulders and hurriedly left the room.

x.x.xIV

Before leaving the _patio_, Bessie promised to meet d.i.c.k in the garden after the company dispersed for the night. After the Captain's departure, d.i.c.k returned to the _patio_ and took his stand in the shadow of the nearest trees, where he awaited her.

Never had her mood appeared so distracted and evasive as that evening.

She had avoided him as much as possible. He was quite at a loss to know how to take her, and wondered what would be the outcome of their interview which, he felt, might possibly be their last.

Notwithstanding this melancholy prospect, he still experienced the same spirit of buoyancy which possessed him during the day. He had caught her regarding him several times during the evening with what he thought to be a look of tenderness in her eyes, and this, perhaps, accounted in a measure for his present elation.

She, in turn, had wondered greatly at the change that had come over him.

How could he possibly be so gay when everybody else was so miserable, and she thoroughly resented it.

During the interval that had elapsed after the breaking up of the company, she had partic.i.p.ated in a stormy interview with her father and aunt; the latter endeavoring to point out to her the danger incurred by holding intercourse with obscure, low-born persons, as had just been demonstrated in the Captain's case.

She was surprised on returning to her room not to find Blanch there, but, on second thought, felt it was only natural after what had occurred that she should want to be alone, and thought she must be somewhere in the garden. She had seen d.i.c.k leave the _patio_ and disappear in the shadow beyond, whither she directed her steps, pa.s.sing out and around the front of the house, as she did not wish to incur the risk of being seen by her father or aunt.

d.i.c.k, who had tossed aside his hat on the gra.s.s and stood leaning against the trunk of a tree, was presently aroused from his meditations by the object of his thoughts, who stood close beside him.

"Well, I'm here," she said, by way of beginning, looking up into his face.

"I was looking for you in the other direction," he replied, throwing away his half-burnt cigar. "I ought to have known better. You are always doing the opposite of that which one expects."

A smile lit up her face for a moment, as she flashed her beautiful wide eyes upon him. She seemed a part of that beauteous night, elfish and delicate as a moonbeam or a flower, fragile as the song of a bird. He could not speak, but stood drinking her in with his eyes and soul, his face wearing a mixed expression of rapture and pain. She knew what he felt, and like him, she, too, struggled with herself for the mastery of her emotion.

"Do you know," she said at length, "this is the first time I have ever been guilty of a clandestine meeting with a man. If my father knew I was here, he would be beside himself."

"Then you did want to come!" he exclaimed.

"Of course. Otherwise, why should I be here?" she responded shyly, raising her eyes to his for an instant and then lowering them again.

"Bessie!" he cried, starting toward her.

"Hush!" she said, raising her hand in protest and checking him. Had he taken her in his arms then and there, she would have surrendered without a struggle, for she was in that soft, languid mood of a woman in love in spite of herself. But he dared not give way to his impulse. He loved her too much, and feared lest his impetuosity might ruin forever his chance of winning her.

"I know it was foolish of me to come, especially when there was no reason for it," she continued with a.s.sumed indifference, casting a sidelong glance at him out of the corners of her eyes. In spite of the pain she knew she inflicted, she could not resist flirting with him just a little even at such a moment. It filled her with such exquisite joy to feel anew the power she exercised over him and the unfathomable depth of his love which each fresh thrust at his heart revealed to her.

"I came here," she slowly resumed, "to ask what you think of Chiquita?"

"Think!" he burst forth savagely, aroused almost to a pitch of desperation by her irritating manner. "Do you take me for as big a fool as Don Felipe, or--" your father? he was about to add, but checked himself just in time. "When one has known Chiquita as long as I have, you don't think things about her, you know. Don Felipe," he went on, "reminds me of the naughty little boy who one day, while playing in a park, threw mud on a swan, imagining that he had besmirched the bird forever until it dived under the water and reappeared again as white as before. Why, even if I at this moment did not possess the absolute proof of her innocence, n.o.body could ever persuade me to believe that story.

You don't know the Indian as I do, Miss Van Ashton. The high-caste Indian women are quite as incapable of such things as you are. It was a devilishly clever stroke on Don Felipe's part, I'll admit, but he has deceived himself as thoroughly as the rest of the world."

"What proof have you?" she asked with a surprised and mystified look, her woman's curiosity thoroughly aroused. d.i.c.k chuckled softly in reply.

"What are you laughing at?" she demanded, not a little nettled by his manner.