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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^hode. y errata td to nt le pelure, pen it n 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 Chata and Chinita ^ Bobel BY LOUISE PALMER HEAVEN BOSTON ROBERTS BROTHERS 1889 Copyright, 1889, By Louise Palmer Heaven. Ail rights reserved. SdtUrmiUg ^tnn: John Wilson and Son, Cambridgb. LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ALBERTA CHATA AND CHINITA. — ♦ I. On an evening in May, some forty years ago, Tio Pedro, tlie porter o^ or gate-keeper, of Tres Hermanos, had loos- ened the iron bolts that held back the great doors against the massive stone walls, and was about to close the ha- cienda buildings for the night, when a traveller, humbly dressed in a shabby suit of buff leather, urged his weary mule up the road from the village, and pulling off his wide sombrero of woven grass, asked in the name of God for food and shelter. Pedro glanced at him sourly enough from beneath his broad felt-hat, ga}'^ with a silver cord and heavy tassels. The last rays of the setting sun flashed in his ej^es, allow- ing him but an uncertain glimpse of the dark face of the stranger, though the shabby and forlorn aspect of both man and beast were sufficiently apparent to warn him from forcing an appearance of courtesy, and he muttered, grumblingly, — 4( Pass in ! Pass in I See you not I am in a hurry ? God save us ! Am I to stand all night waiting on j'^our lordship? Another moment, friend, and the gate would have been shut. By my patron saint," he added in a lower tone, " it would have been small grief to me to have turned the key upon thee and thy beast. By ^jhy looks, Tia Selsa's mud hut for thee^, and the shade of n, mesquite for thy mule, would have suited all needs well enough. But since it is the will of the saints that thou comest here, why get thee in." " Eheu ! " ejaculated a woman who stood b,y, " what makes thee so spiteful to-night, Tio Pedro, as if the bit and sup were to be of thy providing? Thou knowest well enough that Dofia Isabel herself has given orders that no wayftirer shall be turned from her door ! " 1 L 1 oe o «. 2 CI/ATA AND CinJVITA. "Get thee to thy hand-mill, gossip!" cried the gate- keeper, angrily. " Tiiis new-comer will add a luindlul of corn to thy stint 'or grinding ; he has a mouth for a (fordo, believe me." The woman, thus reminded of her duty, hurried away amid the Ir ughter of the idlers, who, lounging against tiio outer walls or upon the stone benches in the wide arch- wa}"^, exchanged quips and jests with Pedro, one by one presentl}^ sauntering away to the dilferent courtyards within tl)j nacienda walls or to tlieii* own homes in the grass-tuatched village, above which the grea,t building rose at once overshadowingly and protectingly. The stranger, thus doubtfully welcomed, urged his mule across the threshold, throwing, as he entered, keen glances around the wide space between the two arches, and beyond into the dim court •, and especially upon the rows of stuffed animals ranged r i 'he walls, and upon the enormous snakes pendent on either side the inner dof^'-wny, twining in hide- ous folds above it, and even enci cling the tawdry' image of the Virgin and child by which the arch was surmounted. These trophies, brought in by the husbandmen and shep- herds and prei)ared with no unskilful hands, gave a grim aspect to the entrance of a house where unstinted hospi- tality was dispensed, the sight of whose welcoming walls cheered the waj'farer across many a weary league, — it being the only habitation of importance tr be seen on the extensive pla.n that la}- within the wici . circle of hills which on either hand lay blue and sombre la the distance. For a tew moments, indeed, the western peaks had been lighted up b}' tiie effulgence of the declining sun ; the 'ast rays streamed into the vestibule as the traveller entered, then were suddenly witiidrawn, and the gray chill which fell upon the valley deepened to actual duskiness in the court to which he penetrated. Careless glances followed him, as he rode across the broad flagging, picking his way among the loinging herds- men, who, leaning across their horses, were recounting the adventures of the day or leisurely unsaddling. He looked around him for a few moments, as if uncertain where to go ; but each one was too busy with his own rffairs to pay any attention to so humble a wayfarer. Nor, indeed, did he seem to care that thoy should ; on the contrary, 'le CHATA AND CiriNITA. 8 pnllod his hat still further over liis brows, and with Iiis dingy striped blanket thrown erossw'se over his shonlder and almost muftling his lace, foUowc I presently a con fusee ntMse of horses and inen, which indicated where the stal)les stood, and disappeared within a narrow doorway leading to an inner con it. Meanwhile, Tio Pedro, his hands on the gate, still stood exchanging the last words of banter and gossip, idl}' de- laying the moment of final closure. Of all those human beings gathered there, perhaps no one of them appreciated the magnificent and solemn grandeur by which they were surrounded any more than did the cattle that lowed in the distance, or the horses that ran whinnying to the stone walls of the enclosures, snutHng eagerly the cool night air that came down from the hills, over the clear stream which rippled under the shadow of the cottonwood trees, across the broad fields of springing corn and ripening wheat, and through the deep green of the plantations of chile and beans and the scented orchards of mingled fruits of the tem- perate and torrid zones. For miles it thus traversed the unparalleled fertility of the liajio, tiiat Egypt of Mexico, which feeds the thousands who toil in her barren hills for silver or who watch the herds that gather a precarious subsistence upon her waterless plains, and which gives the revenues of princes to its lordly proprietors, who scatter them with lavish hands in distant cities and coimtrics, and with smiling mockery dole the scant necessities of life to the toiling thousands who live and die upon the soil. Man}' are these fertile expanses, w-hioh, entered upon through some deep and rugged defile, lie like ami)liitlic- atres inclosed by jagged and massive walls of breseia and porphyr}^ that rise in a thousand grotesque shapes above their bases of green, — at a near view showing all the varying shades of gray, yellow, and brown, and in the dis- tance deep purples and blues, which blend into the clear azure of the sky. One of tlic most beautiful of such spots is that in which lay the hacienda or estates of the family of Garcia, and one of the most marvellously rich ; for there even the verv rocks yield a tribute, the mine of the Three Brothers — the " Tres Ilermanos" — being one of those which at the Conquest had been given as a reward to the daring adventurer Don Geronimo Garcia. It was ClfATA AND CiriNITA. siirroundc'il by rich lands, which unhocdcd by tlic earliest proprietors, later yielded the most important returns to their descendants. But at the time our story opens, the mines and mills of Tres Ilermanos, though they added a picturesque element to the landscape, had become a source of perplexity and loss, — still remaining, however, in the opinion of their owners, a proud adjunct to the vast stretches of field and orchard which encircled them. The minf!S themselves lay in the scarred mountain against which the reduction-works stood, a dingj'- mass of low-built houses and high adobe walls, from tlie midst of which ascended the great chimney, whence clouds of sul- phurous smoke often rose in a black column against the sky. These buildings made a striking contrast to the great house, which formed the nucleus of the agricultural interests and was the chief residence of the proprietors, and whose lofty ^alls rose proudly, forming one side of the massive adobe square, which was broken at one corner by a box-towered church and on another by a flour-mill. The wheels of this mill wer'? turned in the rainy season by the rapid waters of a mountain stream, which lower down passed through the beautiful garden, the trees of which waved above the fourth corner of the walls, — flowing on, to be almost lost amid the slums and refuse of the reduction- works a half-mile awaj', and during the nine dry months of the year leaving a chasm of loose stones and yellow sand to mark its course. Along the banks were scattered the huts of workmen, though, with strange perversit}'-, tlie greater number had clustered together on a sandy declivity almost in front of the great house, discarding the convenience of nearness to wood and water, — the men, perliaps, as well as the women, preferring to be where all the varied life of the great house might pass before their eyes, while custom made pleasant to its inmates the near- ness of the squalid village, with its throngs of bare-footed, half nude, and wholl}'^ unkempt inhabitants. These few words of description have perhaps delaj^ed us no longer than Tio Pedro lingered at his task of clos- ing tlie great doors for the night, leaving however a little postern ajar, by which the tardy work-people passed in and out, and at which the children boisterously played hide-and-seek (that game of childhood in all ages and CI/ATA AND CI/INirA. 5 a source climes) ; and mcnnwliilc, as has been said, tlic traveller found and took his way to the Htables. IJofore enterini^, he paused a moment to pull the red handkerchief that bound his head still further over his bu.shy black brows, and to readjust his hat, and tlion went into the court ui)on which the stiiUs opened. Finding none vacant in which to place his mule, he tethered it in a corner of the crowiled yard ; and then, with many reverences and excuses, such as rancheros or villagers are apt to use, asked a feed of barley and an armful of straw from the "major-domo," who was giving out the rations for the night. "All in good time! All in good time, friend," an- swered this functionary, pompously but not unkindly, "lie who would gather manna must wait patiently till it falls." " But I have a real which I will gladly give," interrupted the ranchero. " Your grace must not think I presume to beg of your bounty. 1 — " " Tut ! tut ! " interrupted the major-domo ; " dost think we arc shop-keepers or Jews here at Tres Hermanos? Keep thy real for the first beggar who asks an alms; " and he drew himself up as proudly as 'f all the grain and fod- der he dispensed were his own personal property. " But," ho added, with a curiosity that came perhaps from the plebeian suspicion inseparable from his stewardship, *' hast thou come far to-day? Thy beast seems weary, — though as far as that goes it would not need a long stretch to tire such a knock-kneed brute." " I come from Las Vigas," answered the traveller, doff- ing his hat at these dubious remarks, as though they were highly complimentary. "Saving your grace's presence, the mule is a trusty brute, and served my father before me ; but like your servant, he is unused to long journeys, — this being the first time we have been so far from our birthplace. Santo Nino, but the world is great ! Since noon have my eyes been fixed upon the magnificence of your grace's dwelling-place, and, by my faith, I began to think it one of the enchanted palaces my neighbor Pablo Arteaga, who travels to Guadalajara, and I know not where, to buy and sell earthenware, tells of!" The major-domo laughed, not displeased with the hom- age paid to his person and supposed importance, and 6 CI/ATA AND CUINITA. BuH'eiing himself to be amused l)y the vilhijifer's unusiiiil garruHLy. Law Vigas he knew ol'as a tiny viihige perched among the elifl'ts ol' the defile UuuUiig from (jiianapihi, wlienee fat turkeys were takeu to market on feast-days, when its few iniiahitaiits went down to licar Mass, and to turn an honest penny. Tliey were a harmless people, these poor vilhigers, and he felt a glow of charity as if warmed by some personal gift, as he said. "Take a fair share of barley and straw for thy beast, and when thou hast given it to him, follow me into the kitchen, and thou shalt not hick a tortilla, nor frijoles and chile wherewith to season it." " May your grace live a thousand j'cars I " began the vilh'ger, when the major-domo interrupted him. *' What is thv name? So bold a traveller must needs have a name. " Surely," answered the villager, gravely, "and Holy Church gave it to mc. Juan — Juan rianillos, at your service." The major-domo started, laid his hand on the knife in his belt, then withdrew it and laughed. "Truly a re- doubtable name," he exclaimed ; then, as they passed into another court over which the red light of charcoal fires east a lurid glare, illuminating fantastically the groups of men who were crouching in various attitudes in the wide corridors, awaiting or discussing their 8ui)pers, " I hope thou wilt prove more peaceful than thy namesake : a very devil they say is he." The villager looked at him stupidly, and then with in- terest at the women who were doling from steaming shal- low brown basins the rations of beans and pork with red pepper, — a generous portion of which, at a sign from the major-domo, was handed' to the stranger, who looked around for a convenient spot to crouch and cat it. The major-domo turned away abruptly, muttering, "Juan Planillos ! Juan Planillos ! a good name to hang b}'. What animals these rancheros are ! Evidently he has never heard of the man that they say even Santa Anna himself is afraitl of. Well, well, Dofia Isabel, I have obeyed your commands 1 What can be the reason of this caprice for knowing the name and business of ev- ery one who enters her gates ? In the old time every one C II ATA AND CIIINITA. mi^lit come and go unquestioned ; but now I must dc- 8ciil)o the height uud breadth, tlio sound of tlie voice, tlie length of the nose even, of every outcast that [Jasses b}'." lie disappeared vvitlnn anotlier of tlie seemingly endless range of courts, perhaps to discharge his duty of reporter, and certainly a little later, in company with other em- ployees of the estate, to partake of an ample supper, and recount to Senor Sanchez the administrador, with >nany variations retlccting greatly on his own wit and the coun- tryman's stupidity, the interview he had held with the traveller from Las Vigas. Any variation in the dail}' re- cord of a country life is hailed with pleasure, however trilling in itself it may be ; and even Dona Feliz, the ad- niinistrador's grave mother, listened with a smile, and did not disdain to repeat the tale in her visit to her lady. Dona Isabel, which according to her usual custom she made before retiring for the night. The apartnn nts occui)ied by the administrador and his family were a part of those wliich had been appropriated to the use of the proprietors and rulers of this circle of homes within a home, which we have attempted to des- cribe. The staircase by which they were reached rose, indeed, from an inferior court, but they were connected on the second floor by a gallery ; and thus the inhabitants of either had immediate access to the other, although the privacy of the idling family was most rigidly respected ; while at the same time its members were saved from the oppression of utter isolation which their separation from the more occupied portions of the building might have en- tailed. This was now the more necessary, as one by one the gentlemen of the family had, for various reasons or pretexts, gone to the cities of the republic, where they spent the revenues produced by the hacienda in expensive living, and Doiia Isabel Garcia de Garcia, — still 3'oung, still eminently attractive, though a widow of ton years standing, — was left with her 3'Oung daughters, not only to represent the family and dispense the hospitalit}* of Tres Ilermanos, but to bear the burden of its management. She was a woman who, perhaps, would scarcely bo com- miserated in this position. She was not, like most of her countrywomen, soft, indolent, and amiable, a creature who loves rather than commauds. A searching gaze into the 8 CHATA AND CHINITA. depths of her dark eyes would discover fires which seldom leapt within the glance of a casual observer. Seemingly cold, impassive, grave beyond her years, Dofia Isabel wielded a power as absolute over her domains as ever did veritable queen over the most devoted subjects. Yet this woman, who was so rich, so powerful, upon the eve on which her bounty had welcomed an unknown pauper to her roof, wa:: less at ease, more harassed, more burdened, as she stood upon her balcony looking out upon the vast ex- tent and variety of her possessions, than the poorest peon who daily toiled in her fields. Her daughters were asleep, or reading with their gover- ness ; her servants were scattered, completing the tasks of the day ; behind her stretched the long range of apart- ments throughout which, with little attention to order, were scattered rich articles of furniture, — a grand piano, glittering mirrors, valuable paintings, bedsteads of bronze hung with rich curtains, services of silver for toilette and table, — indiscriminately mixed with rush-bottomed chairs of home manufacture, tawdry wooden images of saints, waxen and clay figures more grotesque than beautiful, the whole being fain Jy illumined by the flicker of a few can- dles in rich silver holders, black from neglect. Doiiii Isabel stood with her back to them all, caring for nothing, heeding nothing, not even the sense of utter weariness and desolation which presently like a chill swept through the vast apartments, and issuing thence, enwrapped her as with a garment. She leaned against the stone coping of the window. Her tall, slender figure, draped in black, was sharply out- lined against the wall, which began to grow white in the moonlight ; her profile, perfect as that of a Greek statue unsharpened by Time yet firm as Destiny, was reflected in unwavering lines as she stood motionless, her eyes turned upon the walls of the reduction- works, hor thoughts penetrating beyond them and concentrating themselves on one whom she had herself placed witliin, — who, suc- cessful beyond her hopes in the task for which she had selected him, yet bafliled and harassed her, and had planted a thorn in her side, which at any cost must be plucked thence, must be utterly destroyed. The hour was still an early one, though where such primi- )ed her as CHATA AND CHINITA. 9 live customs prevailed it might well seem late to her when she left the balcony and retired to her room, which was somewhat separated from those of the other members of the family, though within immediate call. Soothed bj' the cool air of the night, the peace that brooded over village and plain, the solemn presence of the everlasting hills, — those voiceless influences of Nature which she had in- breathed, rather than observed, — her health and vigor triumphed over care, and she slept. 11. Meanwhile, the moon had risen and was flooding the broad roofs and various courts of the great buildings with a silvery brilliancy, which contrasted sharplv with the ink}' shadows cast by moving creatures or solid wall or mas- sive column. While it was early in the evening, the sound of voices was heard, mingling later with the monotonous minor ^ones of those half-playful, half-pathetic airs so dear to the ear and heart of the Mexican peasantry ; but as night approached, silence gradually fell upon the scene, broken only by the mutter or snore of some heavy sleeper, or the stamping of the horses and mules in their stalls. The new-comer Juan Planillos, who had joined readily in jest and song, — though his wit was scarce bright enough, it seemed, to attract attention to the speaker (while abso- lute silence certainly would have done so), — at length, fol- lowing the example of those around him, sought the shaded side of the corridor, and wrapping himself in his striped blanket la}' down a little apart from the others, and was soon fast asleep. Men who are accustomed to rise before or with the dawn slee[) heavily, seldom stirring in that deep lethargy which at midnight falls like a spell on weary man and beast ; yet it was precisely at that hour that Juan Planillos, like a man who had composed himself to sleep with a definite purpose to arise at a specified time, uncovered his face, raised himself on his elbow, and glancing first at the sky (reading the position of the moon and stars), threw then a keen glance at the piostrate figures around him. The veiy dogs — of which, lean and mongrel curs, there were many — like the men, fearing the malefic influences of the rays of the moon, had retired under benches, and into the farthest corners, and upon every living creature profound oblivion had fallen. It was some minutes before PlaniUos could thoroughly satisfy himself on this point, but that accomplished, he CHATA AND CHINITA. 11 rose to his feet, leaving tlic sandals that he had worn u^wn the brick floor, and with extreme care pushing open the door near which he had taken the precaution to station himself, passed into the first and larger court, which he had entered upon reaching the hacienda. As he had evi- dently expected, he found this court entirely deserted, although in the vaulted archway at the farther side he divined that the gate-keeper lay upon his sheepskin in the little alcove beside the great door, of which he was the guardian. As lie stepped into this courtyard, Juan Planillos paused to draw upon his feet a pair of thin boots of yellow leather, so soft and pliable that they woke no echo from the solid paving, and still keeping in the shadow, he crossed noise- lessly to a door set deep in a carved arch of stone, and like one accustomed to its rude and heavy fastenings, deftly undid the latch and looked into the court upon which opened the private apartments of the famil}' of Garcia. He stood there in the shadow of the doorway, still dressed, it is true, in the ranchero's suit, — a soiled linen shirt open at the throat, over which was a short jacket of stained yellow leather, while trousers of the same, opening upon the outside of the leg to the middle of tho thigh, over loose drawers of white cotton, were bound at the waist by a scarf of silk which had once been bright red ; his blanket covered one shoulder ; his brows were still circled by the handker- chief, but he had pushed back the slouching hat, and the face which he thrust forward as he looked eagerly around had undergone some strange transformation, Avhich made it totall}' unlike that of the stolid mixed-breed villager who had talked with the major-domo a few hours before. Even the features of the face seemed changed, the heav}' fleshi- ness of the ranchero had given place to the refinement and keenness of the cavalier. The bushy brows were un- bent, there was intelligence and vivacity in his dark eyes, a half-mocking, half-anxious smile upon his lips, which ut- terly changed the dull and ignorant expression, and of the same flesh and blood made an absolutely new creation. It was not curiosity that lighted the eyes as they glanced lingeringl}' around, scanning the low chairs and tables scat- tered through the corridor, resting upon the rose-entwined colu'v.Rs that supported it,, and then upon the fountain in ! 12 CHATA AND CHINITA. the centre of the court, which threw a slender column in the moonlight, and fell like a thousand gems into the basin which overflowed and refreshed a vast variety of flowering shrubs that encircled it. It was rather a look of pleased recognition, followed b}'^ a sarcastic smile, as if he scorned a paradise so peaceful. There was indeed in every movement of his well-knit flgure, in the clutch of his small but sinewy hand upon the door, something that indicated that the saddle and sword were more fitting to his robust physique and fiery nature than the delights of a lady's bower. Nevertheless, he was about to enter, and had indeed made a hasty movement toward the staircase that led to the upper rooms, when an unexpected sound arrested him. Planillos drew back into the shadow and listened eagerly, scarce crediting the evidence of his senses ; gradually he fell upon his knees, covering himself with his dingy blanket, transforming himself into a dull clod of humanitj^ which under cover of the black shadows would escape observa- tion except of the most jealous and critical eye. Yet this apparent clod was for the time all eyes and ears. Presently the sound he had heard, a light tap on the outer door, was repeated ; a shrill call like that of a wild bird — doubtless a pre-arranged signal — sounded, and in in- tense astonishment he waited breathlessly for what should further happen. Evidently the gate-keeper was not unprepared, for the first wild note caused him to raise his head sleepily, and at the second he staggered from his alcove, muttering an imprecation, and fumbling in his girdle for the key of the postern. He glanced around warily, even going softly to places where the shadows fell most darkly ; but finding no one, returned, and with deft fingers proceeded to push back noiselessly the bolts of the small door set in a panel of the massive one which closed the wide entrance. It creaked slowly upon its hinges, so lightly that even a bird would not have stirred in its slumbers, and a man cau- tiously entered. He had spurs upon his heels, and after effecting his entrance stooped to remove them, and Pla- nillos had time and opportunity to sec that he was not one of Pedro Gomez's associates, — not one of the com- mon people. CHATA AND CHINITA. 13 The midnight visitor was tall and slender, the latter though, it would seem, from the incomplete development of youth, rather than from delicacy of race. The long white hand that unbuckled his spurs was supple and large ; his whole frame was modelled in more generous proportions than are usually seen in the descendants of the Aztecs or their conquerors. " Ingles, " thought Planillos, using a term which is indiscriminately applied to English or Americans. " A man I dare vow it would be hard to deal with in fair fight!" But evidently the Englishman, or American, was not there with any idea of contest ; a pistol gleamed in his belt, but its absence would have been more noticeable than its presence, — it was worn as a matter of course. For so young a man, in that country where every cavalier native or foreign affected an abundance of ornament, his dress was singularly plain, — black throughout, even to the wide hat that shaded his face, the j'outhful bloom of which was heightened rather than injured by the superfi- cial bronze imparted by a tropical sun. Planillos had time to observe all this. Evidently the late-comer knew his ground, and had but little fear of discover}'. "A bold fellow," thought the watcher, " and fair indeed should be tlie Dulcinea for whom he ventures so much. It must be the niece of Don Rafael, or perhaps the governess — did I hear she was young? " But further speculation was arrested by the movements of the stranger, who, after a moment's parley with Pedro, came noiselessly but directly toward the door near which Planillos was lying. Once within it, he paused to listen. Planillos expected him to make some signal, and to see him joined by a veiled figure in the corridor, but to his unbounded amaze- ment and rage the intruder pa?'- 'd swiftly by the fountain, under the great trees of bitter-scented oleanders and cloy- ing jasmine, and sprang lightly up the steps leading to the private apartments. His foot was on the corridor, wlicn Planillos, light as a cat, leaped up the steep stair. His head had just reached the level of the floor above, when with an absolute fury of rage be caught the glimpse of a fair 3'oung face in the moontiglit, and beheld the American 14 CHATA AND CHINTTA. n in the embrace of a beautiful girl. Instinct, rather than recognition, revealed to his initiated mind the young heiress, Herlindu Garcia. Absolutely paralyzed by aston- ishment and^rage, for one moment cuui^b, almost bli'Mled, in the next he saw the closing of a heavy door divide from his sight the lovers whom he was too late to separate. Too late ? No ! one blow from his dagger ui)on that closed door, one cry throughout the sleeping house and the life of the man who had stolen within would not be worth a moment's purchase ! It required all his strength of will, a full realization of his own position, to prevent Planillos from shouting aloud, from rushing to the door of Dona Isabel, to beat upon it and cry, " Up ! up ! look to your daughter ! See if there be anv shame like hers ! see how your own child tramples upon the honor of which you have so proudly boasted ! " But he restrained himself, panting like a wild animal mad with excitement. The thought of a more perfect, a 7uore personal revenge leaped into his mind, and silenced the cry that rose to his lips, — held him from rushing down to plunge his dagger into the heart of the false door- keeper, completely obliterated even the remembrance of the purpose for which he had ventured into a place deemed so sacred, so secure ! and sustained him through the long hour of waiting, the horrible intentness of his pur- pose each moment growing more fixed, more definitely pitiless. For some time he stood rooted to the spot upon which he had made the discovery which had so maddened him, but at last he crouched in the shadow at the foot of the stniroase ; and scarcely had he done so, when the man for whom he waited appeared at the top. He saw him wave his hand, he even caught his whispered words, so acute were his senses : " Never fear, my Herlinda, all will be well. I will protect you, my love ! In another week at most all this will be at an end. I shall be free to come ."nd go as I will ! " "Free as air!" thought the man lying in the shadow, with grim humor, even as he grasped his dagger. Crouch- ing beneath his blanket he had drawn from his brows the red kerchief. The veins stood black and swollen upon his temples as the foreigner, waving a last farewell, descended CHATA AND CHINITA. 15 the stairs. He passed with drooping head, breathing at the moment a deep sigh, within a hand's breadtli of an incarnate fiend. All, devoted yonth ! had thy guardian angel veiled her face that night V Oh, if but at tlic last moment thy liglit foot would wake the echoes and rouse the sleepers, al- ready muttering in their dreams, as if conscious that the dawn was near. But nothing happened ; the whole world seemed wrapped in oblivion as he bent over the gate- keeper, and with some familiar touch aroused him. He stooped to put on his spurs, as Pedro opened the post- ern, and instantly stepped forth, while the gate-keeper proceeded to replace the fastenings. But as the man turned nervously, with the sensation of an unexpected presence near him, he was absolutely paralyzed with dis- may. A livid face, in which were set eyes of lurid black- ness, looked down upon him with satanic rage. The bulk that towered over him seemed colossal. "Mercy! mer- cy ! " he ejaculated. " By all the saints I swear — " " Let me pass ! " hissed Planillos in a voice scarce above a whisper, but which in its intensity sounded in the ears of Pedro like thunder. "Villain, let me pass!" and he cast from him the terrified gate-keeper as though he were a child, and rushed out upon the sandy slope which lay between the great house and the village. He was not a moment too soon. In the dim light he caught sight of the lithe figure of the foreigner, as he passed rapidl}' over the rough ground skirting the village, the better to escape the notice of the dogs, which, tired with baying the moon, had at last sunk to uneasy slumbers. Planillos looked toward the moon, and cursed its rapid waning. The light grew so faint he could scarce keep the 3'oung man in sight, as he approacbed a tree where a dark horse was tied, which neighed as he drew near. Planillos clutched his dagger closer ; would the pursued spring into hie saddle, and thus escape, at least for that night? On the contrary, he lingered, leaning against his horse, his eyes fixed on the white walls of the house he had left. All unconscious of danger, he stood in the full strength of manhood, with the serene influences of Nature around him, his mind so rapt and tranced that even had his pursuer taken no precaution in making his 16 CHATA AND rHINITA. m 1 i approach from shrub to shrub, concealing his person as much as possible, he would probably have reached his vic- tim unnoticed. Within call slept scores of fellow-men ; be- hind him, scarce half a mile away, rose the walls and chim- neys of his whilom home ; not ten minutes before he had said, " I shall be as safe on the road as in your arms, my love ! " He was absolutely unconscious of his surround- ings, lost in a blissful reverie, when with irresistible force he was hurled to the ground ; a frightful blow fell upon his side, — the heavens grew dark above him. Conscious, yet dumb, he staggered to his feet, only to be again pre- cipitatcfd to the earth ; the dagger that at the moment of attack had been thrust into his bosom, was buried to the hilt ; the blood gushed forth, and with a deep groan he expired. All was over in a few moments of time. John Ashley's soul, with all its sins, had been ^ :rled into the presence of its Judge. The self-appointed aveiiger staggered, gasping, against the tree ; an almost superhuman effort had brought a terrible exhaustion. Ever}- muscle and nerve quivered ; he could scarcely '--caud. Yet thrusting from him with his foot the dead t3ody, he thirsted still for blood. '' If I could but return and kill that villain Pedro," he Jiissed ; " if his accur^od soul could but follow to purgatory this one I have already sent I But, bah ! a later day will answer for the dog ! Ah, I am so spent a child might hold me ; but," looking toward the mountains, "this horse is fresh and fleet. I shall be safe enough when the first beam of the morning sun touches ,your lover's lips, Herlinda." The assassin glanced from his viodm toward the house he had left, with a muttered imprecation ; then, trembling still from his tremendous exertions, he approached the ~teed, which, unable to break the lariat by which it had been fastened, was straining and plunging, half-maddened, after the confusion of the struggle, by the smell of blood already rising on the air. Planillos possessed that wonderfully magnetic power over the brute creation which is as potent as it is rare, and which on this occasion within a few moments com- pletely' dominated and calmed the fright and fury of the powerful animal, which he presently mounted, and which — though man and horse shook with the violence of ex- CHATA AND CHINITA. 17 9 person as ched his vic- ow-men ; be- lls and chim- efore he had )ur arms, my lis surround- (sistible force ow fell upon Conscious, be again pre- iie moment of buried to the eep groan he John Ashley's lie presence of ered, gasping, •t had brought jrvb quivered ; a him with his blood. ''If I ^o," he Iiissed ; purgatory this lay will answer ight hold me; 3 horse is fresh le first beam of lerlinda." Bvard the house then, trembling approached the ►y which it had half-maddened, J smell of blood nagnetic power nt as it is rare, ' moments com- and fury of the mted, and which e violence of ex- citement and conflict — he managed with the case that denoted constant practice and superb horsemanship. With a last glance at the murdered man, whom the darkness that precedes the dawn scarce allowed him to distinguish from the slirubs around, he put spurs to the restive steed, and galloped rapidly away. III. It is not to 1)0 supposed that this bloody deed oc- curred entirely unsuspected. Tedro, the gate-keeper, lay hall-stunned upon the stones where he had been east by the man who called himself I'lanillos, and listened with strained ears to every sound. No indication of a struggle reached him, but his horrified imagination formed innu- merable pictures of treacherous violence, in which one or the other of the men who had left him figured as the vic- tim, lie dared give no alarm ; indeed, at first ho was so unnerved by terror that he could neither stir nor spealc. At length, after what appeared to him hours but was in reality only a few minutes, he heard the shrill neigh of the horse and the souad of rearing and plunging, followed by the dull thud of retreating footsteps and shrill whistles in challenge and answer from the watchmen upon the haci- enda roof, who, however, took no further steps toward in- vestigating what they supposed to be a drunken brawl which had taken place, almost out of hearing and quite out of sight, and which therefore, as the}- conceived, could in no wise endanger the safety or peace of the hacienda. Their signals, however, served to arouse Pedro, wlio shaking in every limb, his brain reeling, his heart bursting with apprehension, crawled to the postern, and after many abortive efforts managed to secure the bolts. He then staggered to the alcove in which he slept, and searching beneath the sheepskin mat which served for his bed, found a small flask of aguardiente^ and taking a deep draught of the fiery liquor, little by little recovered his outwivd composure. For that night, however, sleep no more visited his eyes ; and he spent the hour before dawn in making to himself wild excuses for his treason, in wilder projects for flight, and in mentally recapitulating his sins and preparing CIIATA AND CinmTA. 10 liimsclf for death ; so it can readily bo imnj»incd that it was a haggard and distraught couiiteuauci! tliat lie thrust forth IVoui the postern at dawn, when with the first streak of light came a crowd of excited villagers to the gate, to heat upon it wildly, and with hoarse groans and cries to announce that Don Juan had been found murdered under a mesquitc tree. " Impossible ! Yo arc mad ! Ansclmo, thou art drunk, raving I " stammered forth the gate-keeper. " Don Juan is is at the reduction- works 1" " Tliou liest!" cried an excited villager; "he is in purgatory. Cod help him I Holy angels and all saints pray for him ! " " Ave Maria I IMothcr of Sorrows, by the five won; ids of thy Son, intercede for him ! " cried a chorus of wouum, wringing their hands and gesticulating distractedly. "Open the gate, Tedro!" demanded the throng with- out, by this time almost equalled by that within, througli which the administrador, Don Rafael Sanchez, was seen forcing his wa^', holding high the great keys of the main door. He was a small man, with a pale but determined face, before whom .he crowd fell back, ceasing for a mo- ment their incohere it lamentations, while ho assisted Pedro to unlock and throw open the doors. "Good heavens, man, are you mad?" he exclaimed, as Pedro darted from his side and rushed toward the group of rancheros, who, bearing between them a recumbent form, were slowly approaching the hacienda. "Ah! ali, that is right," as he saw that Pedro, with imperative ges- tures and a few expressive words, had induced the bearers to turn and proceed with the body toward the reduction- vorks; "better there than here. What could have in- duced him to roam about at night? I have told him a score of times his foolhardincss would be the death of iiim ; " and with these and similar ejaculations Don Rafael hastened to join the throng which were soon pouring into the gates of the reduction-works. Meanwhile from within the great house came the cries of women, above which rose one piercing shriek ; but few were there to hear it, for in wild excitement men, women, and children followed the corpse across the valley and thronged the gates of the works which were closed in their 20 CIIATA AND C/I/A7TA. ' I faces, or siirroundc'd with papiii*? looks, wild pcsticiila- lions, nntl inoiuungloss inquiiics, tlio tree bcncatli which the nuirtlcrcd man had been found, thus completely oblit- erating the signs of the struggle and (light of tlie murderer even while most eagerly seeking them. John Ashley had been an alien and a heretic. No longer ago than yesterday there had been many a lip to murnuir at his foreign ways. In all the history of the mining works never had there been known a master so exacting with the laborer, so rigorous with the dishonest, so harsh with the careless ; yet he had been withal as generous and just as he was severe. The [)eople liad been ready to nnir- mur, yet in their secret hearts they had respected and even loved the young Americano, who knew how to govern them, and to gain from them a fair amount of work for a fair and promptly paid wage; and who, from a half ruin- ous, ill-managed source of vexation and loss, was surely but slowly evolving order and the promise of prosperity. The bearers and the crowd of laborers belonging to the reduction-works were admitted with their burden, and as they passed into the large and scantily-furnished room which John Ashley had called his own, they reverently pulled off their wide, ragged straw hats, and many a lip moved in prayer as the people, for a moment awed into silence, crowded around to view the corpse, which had been laid upon a low narrow bed with the strii)ed blanket of a laborer thrown over it. As the coarse covering was thrown back, a woful sight was seen. The form of a man scarce past boyhood, drenched from breast to feet in blood, yet still beautiful in its perfect symmetry. The tall lithe figure, the straight features, the downy beard shading cheeks and lips of adolescent softness, the long lashes of the eyelids now closed forever, and the fair curls resting upon the marble brow, all showed how comely he had been. The women burst into fresh lamentations, the men muttered threats of vengeance. But who was the mur- derer? A}-, there was the mystery. "lie has a mother far off across the sea," said a woman, brokenly. " Ay, and sisters," added another ; " he bade us remem- ber them when we drank to his health on his saint's day. ' In my country wo keep birthdays,' he said (I suppose, ClfATA AND CiriNITA. 21 ihc sea," said a poor pcntlcman, he meant the saints luul never leunud liis biirhuroiis tonl of us ! " interrupted Herlinda, penitently, yet scarcely able to repress a smile as her glance full upon the gayly tlowercd dressing-gown I stri pall loof self coH knc CHATA AND CHINITA. 9r, Lused this wild a far different lolle La Croix, L and Carmen ungcst charge g-gown, hast- rUnda was ng en- _^ and healthy eting the hours of body and een, in her per- the pure olive ilian descent, — ;vs shaded by a head, the other, 1 that rose and jgularity of per- rith a start, and [adcmoisclle La stulantly, as she ve you wakened as dreaming of xn indescribable a Croix repeated ider he is always knows what will 3wn — " and the n her eye. us ! " interrupted D repress a smile cd dressing-gowr. which formed an incongruous wrapping for the thin, bony fi<''urc of the governess ; " but, dear Mademoiselle, nothing worse than a dismissal can happen to you, and you know John has promised — " The governess drew herself up with portentous dignit\'. " Mademoiselle wanders from the point," she interrupted ; "it is of herself only I was thinking. This state of affairs must be brought to a close," she added solemnly, after a pause. " At all risks, Herlinda, John must claim you." " So he knows, so I tell him," answered Herlinda, sud- denly wide awake, and ceasing the prettj^ yawns and stretchings with which she had endeavored to banish her drowsiness. "Oh, Mademoiselle," a shade of apprehen- sion passing over her face, " I have done wrong, very wrong. My mother will never forgive me ! " " Absurd ! " ejaculated the governess. " Dona Isa- bel, like every one else in the world, must submit to the inevitable." "So John said; but, Mademoiselle, neither .you nor John know my mother, nor my people. She will never forgive : in her place, I would never forgive ! " " And yet you dared ! " cried Mademoiselle La Croix, looking at the young girl with new admiration at the cour- age whicli stimulated her own. "Truly, j'ou Mexicans are a strange people, so generous in many things, so blind and obstinate in others. Well, well! you shall find, Herlinda, I too can be brave. If I were a coward, I should say, wait until I am sr ely away ; but I am no coward," added the little woman, drawing her figure to its full height and expanding her nostrils, — "I am ready to face the storm with you." " Y'es, yes!" said the young girl, hurriedly and ab- stractedly. " What," she added, rising in her bed, and grasping the bronze pillar at the head, " what is that I hear? What a confusion of voices !" She turned deadly pale, and her white-robed figure shook beneath the long loose tresses of her coal-black hair. '' My God ! Mademoi- selle, I hear his name ! " The governess too grew pale, though she began in- coherently to reassure the young huly, who remained kneeling in the bed as if iietrilied, he*' hands clasped to ■ I ■ ■ ■ ,. I my 2G CHATA AND CHINITA. i her breast, her eyes strained, listening intently, as through tlie thick walls came the dull murmur of many voices. Like waves they seemed to surge and beat against the solid stones, and the vague roar formed itself into the words, " Don Juan ! Ashley ! " Although a moment's reflection would have reminded her that a hundred other events, rather than that of his death, might have brought the people there to call upon the name of their master, one of those flashes of intuition which api)ear magnetic revealed to Herlinda the awful truth, even before it was borne to her outward ear by the shrill voice of a woman, crying through the corridor, " God of my life ! Don Juan is killed ! murdered ! mur- dered ! " She even stopped to knock upon the door and reiterate the words, in the half-horrifled, half-pleasur- able excitement the vulgar often feel in communicating dreadful and unexpected news ; but a wild shriek from within suddenly checked her outcry, and chilled her blood. '"Fool that I am! I should have remembered," she muttered. " Paqua told me there was certainly love between those two ; she saw the glance he threw on the 3'oung Heiiorita in church one day. But that was months ago, and she certainly is to marry Don Vicente." At that moment a middle-aged, plainly-dressed woman, witii the blue and white reboso so commonly worn thrown over her head, entered the corridor. Iler figure was so commanding, the glance of her eyes so impressive, that even in her haste she lost none of her habitual dignity. The woman turned away, glad to escape with the reproof, ' ' Cease ,your clamor, Refugio ! What ! is j'our news so pressing that you must needs frighten 3'our j'oung mistress with it ? Go, go ! Dona Isabel will be little likely to be pleased with your zeal." The woman hastened away, and Doiia Feliz, waiting until she had disappeared, laid her hand upon the door of llerlinda's chamber, which like those of man}^ sleeping apartments in the house opened dircctl}' upon the upper corridor, its massive thickness and strength lioing looked upon as more than sufflcient to repel any danger whieli could in tlie wildest probability reach it from the well guarded interior of the fort-like building. CIIATA AND CIIINITA, 27 u as through oices. l^ilvo st the solkl the words, ^'G reiuimlcd , that of his to call upon J of intuition la the awful d ear by the the corridor, ■dercd! mur- ,ho door and half-pleasur- ^mmunicating shriek from chilled her Ll ■mbered," she certainly love ! threw on tlie at was months snte." L-csscd woman, y worn thrown ' figure was so nprcssive, that ibitual dignity, ith the rei)roof, J your news so young mistress ttle likely to be t Fcliz, waiting upon the door of ' many sleeping upon the upper ;th being looked ly danger which it from the well As Dona Fcliz touched the latch, the door was oi)encd by the affrighted governess, who had anticipated the en- trance of Dona Isabel. The respite unnerved her, and she threw herself half fainting in a chair, as Herlinda seized the new-comer by the shoulders, gasping forth, " F'eliz, Feliz, tell me ! tell me it is not true ! He is not dead ! dead ! dead ! " her voice rising to a shriek. "Ilush! hush, Herlinda! O God, my child, what can this be to thee?" Dona Feliz shuddered as slie spoke. She glanced at the closed window ; the walls she knew to be a yard in thickness, yet she wished them double, lest a sound of these wild ravings should escape. ''Feliz, you dare not tell me! — then it is true ! he is murdered ! lost, lost to me forever ! " Tlie young girl slipped like water through the arms that would '. .ve clasped her, crouching upon the floor, wringing her liands, tearless, voiceless, after her last despairing words. Feliz attempted to raise her, but in vain. Carmen, aroused by the sounds of distress, appeared in the doorway which connected the two rooms. "Back! go back ! " cried Doiia Feliz, and the child frightened and whimpering, withdrew. Feliz turned to the governess, — the deep dejection of her attitude struck her ; and at that moment Doiia Isabel appeared. ' Herlinda," she began, " this is sad news ; but remem- ber — " she paused, looked with stern disapprobation, then iier superb self-possession giving way, she rushed to her daughter and clasped her arm. "Rise! rise !" she cried ; '' this excess of emotion shames vou and me. This is folly. Rise, I say ! He could never have been anything, child, to thee ! " Herlinda did not move, she did not even look up. She had alwa3's feared her mother ; had trembled at her slightest word of blame ; had been like wax under her hand. Yet now she was as marble ; her hands had dropped on her lap ; she was rigid to the touch ; only the deep moans that burst from her white lips proved that she lived. The attitude was expressive of such utter despair that it was of itself a revelation ; and presently the moans formed themselves into words: "My God! my God! I am undone ! he is dead ! he is dead ! " 28 CHATA AND CHINITA. The words bore a terrible significance to the listeners. Doiia Isabel turned her eyes upon Feliz, and read upon her lace the thought that had forced its way to lier own mind. Her face paled ; she dropped her daughter's arm and drew back. The act itself was an accusation. Per- haps the girl felt it so. She suddenly wrung her hands distractedly, and sprang to her feet, exclaiming, " My hus- band ! my husband ! Let me go to him ! he cannot be dead ! he is not dead ! " Tiie words " M}' husband " fell like a thunderbolt among them. Herlinda had rushed to the door, but 13ona Feliz caught her in her strong arms, and forced her back. "Tell us what you mean ! " she ejaculated ; while the frightened governess plucked her by the sleeve, reiterating again and again, " Pardon ! pardon ! entreat your mother's pardon I " But the terrible turn affairs had taken had driven the thought of pardon, or the need of it, from her mind. " I tell you I am his wife ! Ah, 3'ou think tliat cannot be, but it is true ; the Irish priest married us four months ago in Las l*arras. Let me go, Feliz, let me go ! I am his wife ! " *' This is madness!" interrupted Doiia Isabel, in a voice of such preternatural calmness that her daughter turned as if awestrickcn to look at her. " Unhappy girl, you cannot have been that man's wife. You have bi'cn betrayed ! Child ! child ! the house of Garcia ih disgraced !" A chill fell upon the governess, yet she si)oke sharply, almost pertly: "Not disgraced by Ilerliiida, Madame. She was indeed married to John Aside}', in the parish church of Las Parras, by the missionary priest. Father Magauley." Tiie long, slow glance of incredulity changing into deepest scorn which Dona Isabel turned upon the gover- ness seemed to scorch, to wither her. She actually cowered beneath it, faltering forth entreaties for pardon, ratlier, be it said to her honor, for the unhappy Herlinda than for herself. Meanwhile, with lightning rapidity, the events of the last few months passed through the mind of Dona Isabel. Yes, yes, it had been possible ; there had been opportunity for this base work. Her eyes clouded, her breast heaved ; had she held a weapon in her hand, the intense passion that possessed her might have sought a method more powerful tliau words in liuding for itself trd CFTATA AND CHTNITA. 29 the listeners, id rend upon ly to her own lughter's arm isation. Per- ng her hands ng, ^'Myhus- he cannot be derbolt among it Dona Fehz back. "Tell the frightened ting again and lier's pardon I " lad driven the her mind. " I cannot be, but months ago in [ am his wile ! " a Isabel, in a t her daughter • Unhappy girl, You have bi-en a in disgraced !" spoke sharply, iiida, Madame. ', in the parish ' priest, Father changing into upon tiie gover- She actually .ties for pardon, ihappy Herlinda ing rapidity, the )ugh the mind of isible ; there had er eyes clouded, )on in her hand, ight have sought finding for itself I expression. As it was, she turned away, sick at heart, lu'r brain afire. Doiia Feliz had placed a strong, firm hand over Herlinda's lips. "It is useless," she said in a voice like Fate. "You will never see him again." Herlinda comprehended that tliose words but expressed the unspoken iiat of her mother. She shuddered and fnoaned. "Mother! mother!" she said faintly, "he loved me. I loved him so, mother! Mother, I have spoken the truth ; Mademoiselle will tell you all ; I was indeed his wife." Dona Isabel would not trust herself to look at her daughter. She dared not, so strong at that moment was her resentment of her daring, so deep the shame of its consequences. " Vile woman ! " she said to the governess, in low, penetrating tones of concentrated passion; "you who have avowed yourself the accomplice of yon dead villain, toll me all. Let me know whether you were sim- ply treacherously ignorant, or treacherously base. Silence, Herlinda ! nor dare ir my presence shed one tear for the wretch who betrayed you." But her commands were unheeded. The present an- guish overcame the habits and fears of a whole life, — as, alas ! a passionate love had once before done. But then she had been under the domination of her lover, and had been separated from the mother, whose very shadow would have deterred and prevented her. Now, even the deep sever- ity of that mother's voice fell on unheeding ears. Though tears came not, piteous groans, mingled with the name of her love, burst from the heart of the wretched girl, who leaned like a broken lily upon the breast of Doiia Feliz, who from the moment that Herlinda had declared herself a wife gazed upon her with looks of deep compassion, alter- nating with those of anxious curiosity toward Doiia Isa- bel, whose every glance she had learned to interpret. She was a woman of great intelligence, yet it appeared to her as though Doiia Isabel, who was queen and absolute mistress on her own domain, had but to speak the word and set her daughter in any position she might claim. The supremacy of the Garcias was her creed, — that by which she had lived ; was it to be contradicted now ? "Tell me all," reiterated Dona Isabel, in the concen- trated voice of deep and terrible passion, as the cowering 30 CHATA AND CHINITA. i^ ill I ■ , govorncss vainly strove to frame words that might least oU'end. " How did this troaclicry occur? Where and how did you give that fellow opportunity to compass his base designs?" Herlinda started ; she would have spoken, hut Dona F'eliz restrained her by the strong pressure of her arm ; and the faltering voice of the governess attempted some explanation and justification of an event, which, almost unparalleled in Mexico, could not have been foreseen per- haps even by the jealous care of the most anxious mother. ''This is all I have to tell," she stammered. "You remember you sent us to Las Parras six months ago, just after you had refused 3'our daughter's hand to Joiin Ash- ley, and promised it to Vieente Gonzales. We remained there in exile nearl}- two months. Herlinda was wretched. What was there to console or enliven her in that misera- ble village? Separated from her sister, from you, Madame, whom she deeply loved even while she feared, Avhat had she to do but nurse her grief and despair, which grew daily stronger on the food of tears and solitude? At Ih'st slie was too proud to speak to me of that which caused her sleejjless nights and unhappy da3's. But my looks must have expressed the pit}' I felt. She threw herself into mj- arms one daj^ and sobbed out her sad tale upon my bosom. She had spoken to this Ashley but a few times, and then in your presence, Madame ; but in your country the eye seems the messenger of love. She declared that she could not live, she would not, were she separated from John Ashley ; that the day of her marriage with Vicente Gonzales should be the day of her death." " To the point," interrupted Dona Isabel in an icy tone. "I had heard all this. Even in John Ashley's very presence Herlinda had forgotten her dignity and mine. This is not what I would know. " " But it leads to it, Madame," cried the governess, deprecatingly, "for while I was in the state of mingled pity and perplexity' caused by Herlinda's words, a message was brought to me that John Ashley was at the door. I went to speak to him. Yielding to his entreaties, I even allowed him to see Herlinda. How could I guess it was to urge a course which only the most remarkable combin- ation of events could have made possible?" mut slie that reac the rate brat CI/ATA AND CITINTTA. 31 "Intrigante," muttered Doiia Isabel, bltterl}'. '^ You," continued the governess, pic^iied tind emboldened by the adjective, "angered by the sight of him as you passed the reduction-works, had yourself invented a pie- toxt for sending him to vSan Marcos. You could not well dismiss him altogether from a position he lilled so well, lie might, you thought, reveal the reason." " Deal not with my motives," interrupted the lady haughtily. " It is true I sent him to San Marcos. And what then ? " "Then, by chance, he learned what hero no servant had dared to tell him, — the name of the village to which Horlinda had been sent, so near 3'our own hacienda, too, that he had never once suspected it. And there he met a countryman. These English, Irish, Americans, — they are all bound together by a common language ; and he, this poor priest, entirely ignorant of Spanish, coldly re- ceived even by his clerical brethren, was glad to spend a few days in a trip with Ashley ; and as they rode together over the thirty leagues of mountain and valley between San Marcos and Las Parras, he formed a great liking for the pleasant youth, and bej'ond gently rallying him, made no opposition to staying over a night in the village, and joining him in holy matrimony to the woman of his choice, whom he imagined to be a poor but pretty peasant, so modest were our surroundings." Doiia Isabel's face darkened. " Hasten ! hasten ! " she muttered. " I see it all ; deluded, unhappy girl." "Unhappy, yes!" cried the governess. "Prophetic were the tears that coursed over her cheeks, as she went with me to the chapel in the early morning, and there in tlie presence of a few peasants who had never seen her before, or failed to recognize her under the dingy reboso she wore, was married to the j'oung American." " Ignorant imbeciles ! " ejaculated Doiia Isabel, but so low that no one distinctly caught her words. " And this tnar- riage as you call it, in what language was it performed ? " "Oh, in English," answered Mademoiselle La Croix, readily. " The priest knew no other. Immediate I3'' after the ceremony the bell sounded, the groom and bride sepa- rated, the people streamed in, and Holy Mass was cele- brated, thus consecrating the marriage. Reassure yourself, 32 CTTATA AND C/r/N/TA. Dona Isabel, all was ried cold at d so easily iage which le and con- sabel could id not been by nature ught up in s and nar- them, they •ing of rock rounds the have been middle age. ihe common ler daughter han that the for fallen in- ild the world know? She s another in shrank from 3ntly, elent- lessly, shaping her course, ignoring circumstance, she, like a goddess making a law unto herself, thus unflinchingly ordered the destiny of her child. Could she herself have divined the various motives that influenced her? Na}', no more perhaps than the circumstances which will be developed in this tale may make clear the love, the woman's purity, the high-born lady's pride, that all com- bined to bid her ignore the marriage, rvhich, though irreg- ular, had evidently been made in good faith ; and for which, in spite of open malice or secret innuendo, the power and influence of her family could have won the Tope's sanction, and so silenced the cavillings if not the gossip of the world. VI. And thus in tliat remote hacienda — a little world in itself, with all the mingled elements of wealth and i)ov- crty, and all those eubtile dilferences of caste and char- acter which form society, in circles small as well as great — began a drama, which to the initiated was of deep and absorbing interest. To the common mind despair and agony can have no existence if they do not declare themselves in groans and tears, and to such Herlinda's deep pallor and her silence revealed nothing ; but there were a few who watched in solemn apprehension, feeling hers to be like the intense and sulphurous calm with which Nature awaits the coming of the tempest. But there were indeed few who saw in her anj' change other than the events and anxieties of the time rendered natural. At first indeed there had been whispers in cor- ners, and half-pitying, half-fearful shrugs and glances ; but almost from the day of Ashley's burial a new and fearful cause of public interest drew attention from Her- linda, from her pallor and her wide-eyed gaze of horror, to the consideration of a more personal anxiety. The common people declared that from the night of the murder, death, unsatisfied with one victim, had hovered over the hacienda. The rains which should have fallen after the long dry winter, with cleansing and copious force, Hooding the ravines and carrying awa}- the accumulated impurities of months, had but moistened and stirred the infected mud of the stagnant water-courses and set loose the fevers which lingered in their depths. Years afterward the peasants dated man}- a widowhood and orphanage from those plague-stricken weeks. There was one death or more in every hut, and even the great house did not escape its quota of victims. One after another, members of the families of the clerks and ollicers succumbed, — the major-domo of the courts among the first, and then Made- moiselle La Croix, vao indeed, it was afterward observed, CHAT A AND CHINITA. 41 bad from the first sickened and fallen into a dejection, from which it was almost impossible she should rally. The governess was the object of the most devotod care even from the usually cold and stately Dona Isabel, while the panic-stricken Herlinda, careless of her own danger, bent over her with agonized and fruitless efforts to recall the waning life, or soothe the parting and remorseful soul. But in all that terrible time this was the only event that seemed to touch or rouse her ; for the rest, one might have thought those dreadful days but the ordinary calen- dar of Herlinda's life. Indeed, it is to be supposed that they suited so weL the desolation of her spirit, and that they presented so congruous a setting to her molancholy, that it became merged and absorbed as it were in her surroundings, and so was unpc-'cived, save as the fitting humor of a time when ease and mirth would have been an insult to the general woe. Doiia Isabel had announced her intention of replacing the director of the reduction-works ; but time went on, and in the general consternation produced by the epi- demic nothing was done. There was much sickness at the works ; many of the most experienced hands died ; and one day when the clerk in charge was at the crisis of the fever, the men who were not incapacitated from ill- ness went by common consent to the tienda to stupefy themselves with fiery native brand}' ; and Doiia Isabel, who was fearlessly passing from one poor hovel to another, aiding the village doctress and the priest in their offices, ordered the mules to be taken from the tortas, and the stamps to be stopped. Thus, as the masses half mixed lay upon the floors, they gradually dried and hardened ; and as the great stone wheels ceased to turn in the beds of broken ores, so for years upon years they remained, and the works at Tres Ilermanos graduiill}' fell into ruin, — a fit haunt for the ghost which, as years went by, was said to haunt their shades. But this was long afterward, when the memory of the handsome and hapless youth had be- come almost as a myth, mingled with the thousand talcs of blood which the fluctuating fortunes of years of international and civil war made as common as they were terrible. This fertile spot until now had been singularly free from the terror and disorder that had afl'ected the greater 42 CIIATA AND CHINITA. part of the country ; and though sharing the cxcitc- nicnt of party feeling, the actual demands of strife had never invaded it. Hut quick upon the typlioid, wlien the peasants who had been si)ared began to thinli of repairing tlieir half-ruined hovels, many of them were sunnnoned away with scant ceremony. Don Julian Garcia ai)peared at the hacienda, his uniform glittering with gold braid, buttons, and lace, the trappings of his horse more gorgeous even than his own dress, lie was raising a troop to join his old commander, Santa Anna, who had returned in triumph to the land from which he had been banished, to lead the arms of his countrymen against the foreign foe, which already had begun its victorious march within the sacred borders of their country. In a word, the American War had begun, and involved all factions in one common cause, giving a rallying cry to leaders of every part}', to which even the most ignorant among the people responded with intuitive and unquestioning ardor. Don Julian was uncertain in his politics, but not in his hatreds. He heard the tale of the murder ol the Ameri- can with complacency ; the taking off of one of the her- etics seemed to him natural enough, — it was scarcely worth a second thought, certainly not a pause in his work of collecting troops. If Isabel, he commented, had writhed under wounded patriotism as he had done, the American would never have had an opportunity of finding so honorable a service in which to die. Evidently the grudge of some bold patriot, this. What would j'ou? Mexicans were neither sticks nor stones ! Herlinda heard and trembled ; a faint hope, a half- formed resolve, had wakened in her breast when she had hoard of the arrival of Don Julian. He was a distant cousin, a man of some influence in the family. She re- membered him as more frank and genial than otuers of her kindred. An impulse to break the seal of silence came over her, as she heard his voice ringing through the courts and the clank of his spurs upon the stairs ; but it was checked by the first distinct utterance of his lips, which, like all that followed, was a denunciation of the perfidious, the insatiable, the licentious and heretical Amer- icans. For the first time, to the indifference with which she had regarded the desirability of establishing her posi- tion as sation and ill knowlc nectior hut un The W( si)oken liopcles and faf And ing. C; to some Dofia I Hilda, a Sales, \ read M I)rayers cause h tlie sha( senility, confessi( faults a solution man, evj upon th| nesses of days | cal ; but ho Jieedl moment was frej the rog| troublec these tvj repeate(i heart a| ediy reil gliding r Somi iidor, looked CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 43 tion as the acknowledged wife of Aslilc}' was added a scn- siition of feiir. Wliat had been in her mind an undefined and incomplete idea of the anger and scorn which the knowledge of her daring would cause among her famil}' con- nections, became now a ternf3'ing dread as the impetuous l)iit unrepented act assumed the proportions of treason. The words which at the first opportunity she would have spoken died upon her lips, and she b ?ame once more hoi)eless, impassive, unresisting, cold, w "iting what time and fate should bring. And time passed on unflinchingl}-, and fate was unrelent- ing. Carmen, after a slight attack of fever, had been sent to some relative in Guanapila, and there she still remained. Dona Isabel's household consisted only of herself, Her- linda, and the aged priest her cousin Don Francisco de ►Sales, who though in his dotage still at long intervals read Mass in the chapel, baptized infants, and muttered prayers over the dying or dead, not the less sincere be- cause he who breathed them himself stood so far within the shadow of the tomb. The old man was kindl}' in his senility, and spent long hours dozing in the chair of the confessional, while penitents whispered in his ear their faults and sins, for which they never failed to obtain ab- solution, little imagining that the placid mind of the old man, even when by chance he was awake, dwelt far more upon the scenes of his youth than the follies and wicked- nesses of the present. Sometimes he babbled harmlessly' of days long past, even of sights and doings far from cleri- cal ; but the priestly habit was second nature, and even if he heeded the confidences reposed in him, in his weakest moments they never escaped his lips. To him Ilerlinda was free to go a^d disburden her mind, complying with the regulations of her Church, and seeking relief to her troubled soul. To him, too, Doiia Isabel resorted ; and these two women with their tales of woe, which as often as repeated escaped his memor}', roused faintly within his heart an echo o^ the pain which he uneasil}' and confus- edly remembered dwelt in the world, from which he was gliding into the peace beyond. Sometimes at the table, or as he sat with them in the cor- iidor, — the priest in the s' nshine, they in the shade, — he looked at them with puzzled inquiry iu his gaze, which ■i! ':' ^"l 44 CHATA AND CHINITA. changed to mild satisfaction at some caress or fond word ; for this gentle old man was tenderly b' luved, with a sort of superstitious reverence. P^ven Dona Isabel attributed a special sanctity to his blessing, looking upon him as an automaton of the Church, which without consciousness of its own would — certain springs of emotion being touched — respond with admonition or blessing, fraught with all the authority of the Supreme Power. Dona Isabel, as a devout Komanist, had ever been scrupulous in the obser- vances of her Church, submitting to the 8i)iritual functions of the clergy absolutely, while she detested and openly l)rotested against their licentiousness and greed, as also tlicir pernicious interference in worldly affairs. Therefore throughout her life, and especially during her widowliood, she had studiously avoided the more popular clerg}', and had sought the oracle of duty through some clod of hu- manity', who, though dull, should be at least free from vices, — choosing by preference one of her own famil}' to be the repository of her secrets and the judge of her motives and actions. Unconsciously to herself, while outwardly and even to her own conscience fullilling the requirements of her Church, she had interpreted them by her own will, which, in justice let it be said, had often proved a wise and loyal one ; in a word. Dona Isabel Garcia, with exceptional powers within her grasp, had skilfully and astutely freed herself from those trammels which might at the present crisis have forced her into a diametrically opposite course from that which she had determined to pursue, or would at least have forced her to acknowledge to her own mind the doubtful nature of deeds that she now suffered herself to look upon as meritorious. For years, unconsciously, her will had imbued the judgments of her spiritual adviser, as the Padre Francisco ^Vas called, and it was not to be supposed that she should cavil now, when with complacent alacrity ho echoed yea to her yea, and nay to her nay, — and as she left him, sank back into his chair with a faint wonder at her tale, to forget it in his next slumber, or until recalled to him by the anguished out|)ourings of Ilcrlinda, for whom ho found no words of guidance other than those which throughout his life he had given to young maidens in distress, the commendable ones, " Do as your mother CHATA AND CHINITA. 45 directs ; " though, as he listened to her words, the tears would pour down his checks, and pitj-ing phrases fall from his trembling lips. Poor Ilerl'nda would be comforted for a moment by his simple human sympathy, — even weeping perhaps, for at such times the blessed relief of tears was given her, — yet found in her darkness no light, either human or divine. Had Mademoiselle La Croix lived, Ilerlinda would doubt- less have received from her the impetus to tln-ow herself upon the pit}' and protection of her cousin Don Julian, wliich in spite of his prejudices he could scarcely have re- fused ; for the governess, though she was at first stunned and terrified by the knowledge of the invalidit}' of tho marriage, was no coward, and would have braved much to reinstate the girl she had through compassion — and, she had with a pang been obliged to own, through cupid- ity — aided to bring into a false position. But she had scarcely recovered her bewildered senses, the more bewil- dered by the incomprehensible calm of Dona Isabel, when she was attacked by the fever, — to which she succumbed a month before the appearance of the doughty warrior, whose blustering fierceness would not- have appalled her or deterred her from urging Ilerlinda to lay before him the matter, whose vital importance the stunned young crea- ture failed to comprehend. Later it burst upon her, but it was then too late, — Don Julian had marched away with his troops. She was alone, — no help, no counsellor near. Alone ? Ah, no ! there were human creatures near, who could behold and suspect and shake the head. Ilerlinda awoke to the siiame of her position, as a bird in a net, striving to fl}', first learns its danger. O God! where should she fl}-? Were these careless, laughing women as unconscious as they seemed? Where might she hide herself from these languid, soft eyes, which suddenlj' might become hard and cruel with intelligence ? Herlinda drew her reboso around her, and with flushing cheek traversed the shadiest corri- dors in her necessary passages from room to room, her eyes, large with apprehension, burning beneath her down- cast lids. Every day she grew more restless, more beau- tiful. She walked for hours in the walled garden, which the servants never entered. They began to whisper, for- 'i! f 4G en ATA AND CHINITA. getting the gossip of months before, that the chances of war were secretly stealing the gayety and buoyancy of llerlinda's youth, by keeping from her side the playmate of her childhood, her lover Vicente Gonzales. Feliz smiled when a garrulous servant si)oke thus one day, but ten minutes later entered the room of Dona Isabel. The next morning it was known that the Senorita Iler- linda was to have change, was to go to the capital, that Mecca of all Mexicans. Dona Isabel and Feliz were to accompany her. The clerks and overseers wondered, and shook their heads wisely. They had heard wild tales of the political factions which rendered the city unsafe to woman as to man ; Santa Anna's brief dictatorship had ended in trouble. Still, in that remote district nothing was known with certainty, and these bucolic minds were not given to man}' conjectures upon the motives or move- ments of their superiors. If anything could arouse sur- prise, it was the fact that the ladies were not to travel b}' private carriage, as had been the custom of the Garcias from time immemorial, attended by a numerous escort of armed rancheros ; but being driven to the nearest post where the public diligence was to be met, were to proceed by it most unostentatiously upon their w.a}'. This aroused far more discussion than the fact of the joi./ne}- itself; though it was unanimously agreed that if Dona Isabel could force herself to depart from the accustomed dignity of the family, and indeed preserve a slight incognito up- . on the road, her chances of making the journey in safety would be greatly increased. Her resolve once made it was acted upon instantly, no time being allowed for news of her departure to spread abroad and to give the bandits who infested the road op- portunity to plan the f>lojio^ or carrying off, of so rich a prize as Dona Isabel Garcia and her daughter would have proved. And thus, early one November morning, — when the whole earth was covered with the fresh greenness called into growth by the rainy season which had just passed, and the azure of a cloudless sky hung its perfect arch above the vallc}', seeming to rest upon the crown-like circlet of the surrounding hills, — Herlinda passed through the crowd of dependents who, as usual on such occasions, gathered at the gates to see the travellers off. Dona ClIATA AND CIIINITA. 47 Isabel, who was with her, was alTablo, smiling and nod- ding to the men, and mnrmuring farewell words to the ni'jvrost women ; bnt Ilerlinda was silent, and it was not until she was seated in the carriage that she threw back the niboso which she had drawn to iusr very eyes, revealing her face, which was deadly pale. As she gazed lingcringly around, half sadly, halt" haughtily, with the proucl curve of the \\\^ (though it quivered) which made ail the more striking her general resemblance to her beautiful mother, a thrill, they knew not of what or wh}', ran through the throng. For a moment there was a profound silence, in the miilst of which the aged priest raised his hand in blessing. Suddenly a Hash of memor}', a gleam of inspiration, came over him ; he turned aside the hand of Dona Isabel, which had been extended in farewell, and laid his ov/n upon the bowed head of her daughter. •'Fear not, my daughter," he said, "thou art blessed. Though I shall see thee no more, my blessing, and the blessing of God, shall be with thee." The old man turned away, leaning heavily upon Dofia Rita, the wife of the administrador, who led him tenderly away, and a few minutes later he was sitting smiling at her side, while without were heard the farewell cries of the women. "May God go with j'ou, Niiia! May you soon return ! Adios, Nina ! more beautiful than our patron saint ! Adios, and joy be with tiice ! " And in the midst of such good wishes, as Ilerlinda still leaned from the window, a smile upon her lip, her hand waving a farewell, the carriage drove away and the people dis- persed ; leaving Pedro, the gate-keeper, standing motion- less in the shadow of the great door-post, his eyes riveted on the sands at his feet, but seeing still the glance of agon}', of warning, of entreaty, which had darted from llcrlinda's eyes, and seemed to scorch his own. si j w VII. Upon the death of Madomoisollo La Croix, or rather perhaps from the time of her return to the haeienda after her ineflcctual quest, Dona Feliz had virtually become the duenna of llerllnda. Not that such an ofllcc was formally recognized or required in the seclusion of Tres Hermanos, but it was nevertheless true that llerlinda had seldom found herself alone, even iu the walled garden. Though she paced its narrow paths without companionshii), she had been aware that her mother or Dona Feliz lingered near ; and it was this consciousness that had steeled her outwardly, and forced her to restrain the passionate despair that under other circumstances would have burst forth to relieve the tension of mind and brain. When she at last roused from the apathy of despair, her days became periods of speechless agony, but sometimes at night, when she had believed that Feliz — who, since Carmen's departure, had occupied the adjacent room — was asleep, for a few brief moments she had yielded to the demands of her grief, and given way to sobs and tears, to throw herself finally pros- trate before the little altar, where she kept the lamp con- stantly burning before the Mother of Sorrows. Thence Feliz at times had raised her, and led her to her bed, — chill,, unresisting, more dead than alive, 3'et putting aside the arm that would have supported her, and by mute ges- tures entreating to be left to her misery. Fortunately for her reason, there were times when in utter exhaustion llerlinda had slept hcavil}' and awok(! refreshed, — and this had occurred anight or two after she had learned, bj' a few decisive words from her mother, of her imminent removal from Tres Ilerraanos. She; had retired early, and awoke to find the soft and bril- liant moonlight flooding her chamber. P>ery article in the room was visible ; their shadows fell black upon the tiled floor, and the lamp before the altar burned pale. A C/fATA AND ClflNlTA. 49 profound f^lillnoss rcij^nod. IIi«rliii(lu raised herself on her jiillosv, :ind looUcjcl around licr. The scene was weird and ylioslly, and wlie presently heeanuj aware that she was ut- terly alone. She listenetl intentl}', — not the eeho of a breath from the next room. Her heart leaped ; lor a mo- ment its pulsations perplexed her ; another, and she had moved noiselessly from her bed and crossed the roonj. She ghmeed into that adjoininjj;. That too was Hooded in moonlight, which shone full ui)()n \\\c. bed. Yes, it was empty. Dona Fcli/. had doul)tless been called to some sick person ; she had left Ilerlinda sleeiiuig, thinking that at that hour of the night there could be no danger in leaving her for a brief half hour alone. In an instant these thoughts darted through Ilerlinda'a mind, followed by a project that of late she had much dwelt ui)on, but had believed inii)ossiblc of realization. "With trembling hands she took from her wardn^be a dress of some soft dark stulf, and a black and gra}- reboso, and put them on. Without pausing a moment for thought that might deter her, she glidcid from the room, crossed tho corridor, and descended the stairs, taking the same direc- tion in which Ashley had gone to his death. She paused too at the gate, to do as he had done ; for she touched the sleeping I'edro lightly upon the shoulder, at the same instant uttering his name. The man started from his sleep alfrighted, — too much adVighted to cr}' out ; for like most haciendas, T'res ller- manos had its ghost. From time to time the apparition of a weeping woman was seen by those about to die. Had she come to him now? His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth ; he shook in every limb. The moonlight shone I'lill in the court, but the archway was in shade : who or what was this that stood beside him, extending a white arm from its dark robes, and touching him with one slight fmgcr? A repetition of his name restored him to his senses, and he staggered to his feet, muttering, " Selorita ! ]\Iy Sciiorita, for God's sake wli}' are you here ? You will be seen ! You will be recognizcid ! " " ' In the night all cats are gray,'" she answered, with one of those proverbs as natural to the lips of a Mexican as tho breath the}- draw. " No one would distinguish mo in this light from any of the servants ; but still my words 4 !* '. W 50 CIIATA AND CHINITA. must be biiof, for my absence from my room may be dis- covered. Pedro, I have a work to do ; it has been in my mind all this time. You, you can help mc ! " She clasped her hands ; he thought she looked at the door, and the idea darted into his mind that she con- templated escape, or that she had a mad desire to throw herself upon her lover's grave and die there. "Nina! Nina, of my life! " he said imploringl}', using the form of address one might employ to a child, or some dearlj' loved elder, still dependent. " Go back to your chamber, I beg and implore 1 How can I do anytliing for 3'ou ? How can Pedro, so worthless, so vile, do anything ? " The adjectives he appHed to himself ere sincere enough, for Pedro had never ceased to reproach himself for his share in the tragedy which, in spite of Dona Isabel's words, he had never reall}^ ceased to believe concerned Herlinda, though he had striven for his own peace of mind, as well as in loyalty to the Garcias, to affect a contrary opinion, until this moment, when his young mistress's appearance and appeal rendered self-deception no longer possible. Again and again lie reiterated, " What can the miserable Pedro do for you ? " Apparently with an instinct of concealment, Herlinda had crouclied upon the stones, and as tlie man stood before her she raised her face and gazed at him with her dark eyes. How large they looked in the uncertain light ! how tlie young face quivered and was convulsed, as her lips ))arted ! Pedro, with an inward shrinking, expected her to demand of him the name of Ashley's murderer ; but the thought of vengeance, if it ever crossed her mind, was far from it at that moment. " Yes, yes, there is perhaps something you can do for me," she said. " Men are able to do so much, while we poor women can onl}' fold our hands, and wait and suffer. I thought differcntl}' once, though. John used to laugh at what he called our idle ways; he said women wcr^ made to act as well as men. lint what can I do? What could any woman do in my place? Nothing! nothing! nothing!" Pedro was silent. He knew well how powerless, what a mere chattel or toy, was a young woman of his people. It seemed, too, quite natural and right to him. In this particular case the mother was acting with incompar- able g lie piti lu'r to chanici sorvanl "No " even thing ft Just a feet sue I was 1 haired '. fiilse, V hciieve i offsj)rinj submit. Tiiere is Slie s| municate slie couL demn he ing half-mcditatlnp; as he sat on the stone beneli beneath the hanging serpents that garnlsheil the vestibule of Ties Ilerinanos, tliouglit he saw a ghost upon the stairs which led from one corner of the wide court into which he had glanced, to the corridor of tlie upper Uoor. An apparition of Dona Feliz, he tliought, Iiad i)assed up tliem ; and with ready superstition he decided in his own mind that some evil had befallen her in her journeyings. lie was so disturbed by this idea that a few moments later, as her son Don Uafael passed through the vestibule, he ventured to stop him and tell him what he had seen ; whereat Don Uafael burst into a loud laugh. " What, do you not know," he said, " that my mother has returned? Ah, 1 remember you were at JNIass this morning. She came over from the post-house on donke}-- back. A wondeil'ul woman is my mother ; but she knew we had need of her, and she came none too soon. I opened the door to her myself; " and Don Uafael hastened to his own apartments, where it was utiderstood Dofui Uita his wife hourl}' awaited the pangs of mother- hood, and left Pedro gazing after him in open-mouthed astonishment. In the tirst place nothing had been heard of the proba- bility of the return of Doiia Feliz ; in the second, the manner of her return was unprecedented. She was a woman of some consequence at tiie hacienda. It was an almost incredible thing that under any circumstances she should arrive unexpectedly at the diligence post, and ride a league upon a donkey's back like he wife of a laborer. And thirdl}' it was a miracle that he I'edro had himself gone to Mass that morning, — he could not remember how it had come about, — and that discovering his absence from the gate Don Rafael had himself performed his functions, and had not soundly rated him for his unseasonable devo- L/IATA AND CHINITA. 03 tion ; for Don Rafael was not a man to confonnr] the claims of spiritual and secular duties. I'edro Gome/ did not put the matter to himself in pre- cisely these words ; nevertheless it haunted and puzzled him, and kept him in an unusual state of abstraction, — which perha[)8 accounted for the fact that later in the day, just at high-noon, when the men were afield and the wo- men busy in their huts, and Pedro had ami)lc leisure for his siesta, he was suddenly aroused by a voice that seemed to fall from the skies. Springing to his feet, he almost struck against a i)owerful black horse, which was reined in the doorway ; and dazzled by the sun, and confused by the unexpected encounter, he gazed stui)idly into tiie face of a man who was bending toward him, !»is broad hat pushed back from a mass of coal-black haii", his wJ«itc teeth exposed by the laugh that lighted up his whole face as he exclaimed, — ''Here, brother! here is a good handful for thee! I found it on the road yonder. Cantmbal my horse nearly stepped on it ! Do people in these parts scatter such 8C(;(ls al)0Ut? I fancy the crop would be but a poor one if they did, and I saw a good growth of little ones in the vil- lage yonder. Well, well ! 1 have no use for such treasure ; I freely bestow it on thee," — and with a dexterous move- ment the stranger placed a bundle, wrap[)ed in a tattered scarf, in the hands of the astounded Pedro, and without waiting question or thanks, whichever ho might have expected, put spurs to his horse and galloped across the dusty i)lain. Twice that day had Pedro Gomez been left, as he would have said, open-mouthed. Almost unconscious of what he did, ho stood there watching the cloud of dust in which t!ie horse and rider disappeared, until he felt him- self pulled b}' the sleeve, and a sharp voice asked, "In the name of the IJlessed, Tio, what have you there? Ay, Holy Babe ! it is a child ! " A faint cry from the bundle confirmed these words ; a tiny pink fist thrust out gave assurance to the eyes. Pedro Gomez, strong man as he was, trembled in every limb, and sank on a seat breathless ; but even in his agitation he resisted the efforts of his niece to nnwrap the child. G4 C 11 ATA AND Cfl/AVTA. " Let it be," he said ; " I will m3'self look at this gift which the Saints have sent me." With trembling hands he undid its wrappings. The babe was crying lustily ; red, grimacing, struggling, it was still a pretty child, — a girl only a few days old. Around its neck, under the littlu dress of wiiite linen, was a silken cord. Pedro drew it forth, certain of what he should find. Florencia pounced upon the blue reliquary eagerly. " Let us open it," she said ; " perhaps we shall find some- thing to tell us where the babe comes from, and whose it is." " Nonsense ! " said Pedro, decidedly ; " what should we find in it but scraps of paper scribbled with prayers? And who would open a reliquary? " Florencia looked down abashed, for she was a good daughter of the Church, and had been taught to reverence such things. " No, no, girl! run to the village and bring a woman who can nourish this starving creature ; " and as the girl flew to execute her commission, Pedro completed his ex- amination of the child. It was clothed in linen, finer than rancheros use even in their gala attire, and the red flannel with white spots, called bayeta^ was of the softest to be procured ; but be- yond this there was nothing to indicate the class to which the child belonged. Upon a slip of paper pinned to its bosom was written the name Maria Dolores ( what more natural than that such a child should bear the name, and be placed under the protection of the Mother of Sor- rows? ), and upon the reverse was " Seiiora Dona Isabel Garcia." Was this to commend the waif to the care or attention of that powerful lady ? Pedro rather chose to think it a warning against her. " What ! place the bird before the hawk ? " With a grim smile he thrust the paper into his bosom. Dona Isabel was he knew not where, — later would be time enough to think of her ; meanwhile, here wore all the women and children, all the old men, and halt and lame of the village, trooping up to see this waif, which in such an unusual manner had been dropped into the gate-keeper's horny palms. Some of the women laughed ; all the men joked Pedro when they saw the child, though a yellow nimbus of CHATA AND CHIJV/TA. 65 gift babe 1 still id its illvcn Liould sorae- vbose lid we And good crencc voman lie girl lis ex- 2ven in spots, )ut be- wbicb to its it more ae, and )f 8or- Isabel care or lose to lie bird e paper lerc, — nwbile, d men, ce this Iropped I Pedro nbus of liair around its head and the fineness of its clothing puzzled tlicm. Pedro had hastily thrust the slip of paper into his breast, scarce knowing why he did so ; for though some instinct as powerful as if it were a living voice that spoke, urged him to secrete the child,' to rush away with it into the fastnesses of the mountains, rather than to render it to Dofia Isabel, he did not doubt for a moment that she herself had provided for its mysterious appearance at the hacienda, that it might be received as a waif, and cared for by Doiia Feliz as her representative. These thoughts flashed through his mind, and he heard again Herlinda's despairing cry : " Watch for my child ! Protect it ! protect it ! " Was it possible that she had actually known that this disposition would be made of her child? Involuntarily his arms closed around it, and he clasped it to his broad breast, looking defiantly around. " Tush, Pedro, give it to me ! " cried one stout matron, longing to take the little creature to her motherly breast. *' What know you of nursing infants ? A drop of mother's milk would be more welcome to it than all thy dry hugs. Ah, here comes the Scnor Administrador," and the crowd opened to admit the passage of Don Rafael, who at- tracted by the commotion had hastened to the spot in no small anger, ordering the crowd to disperse ; but he was greeted with an incomprehensible chorus of which he only hoard the one word " baby," and exclaimed in indignation, — "And is this the way to show your delight, when the poor woman is at the point of death perhaps ? Get you gone, and it will be time enough to make this hubbub when it comes." The women burst out laughing, the men grinned from ear to ear, and the children fell into ecstasies of delight. Don Rafael was naturally thinking of the expected addi- tion to his own family, and was enraged at what he sup- posed to be a premature manifestation of sympath}'. Pedro alone was grave, and stepping back pointed to the infant, which was now quiet upon the bosom of Refugio, her vol- unteer nurse. " This is the child they speak of, Senor," he said, and in a few words related the manner in which it had been delivered to him., 6 ()6 ClfATA AND CnrNITA. If lie had cxpct'cd to sec any consciousness or con- fusion upon the face of Don Rafael, he must certainly hav^o been disappointed, for there was simpl}' the frankest and most perfect amazement, as he turned to tiic woman who had stepped out a little from the crowd and held the infant toward him. lie saw at a i>lance that it was no Indian child, — the whiteness of its skin, the fineness of its garmenls, above all the j-ellow nimbus of hair, already curling in tiny rings around the little head, struck him with wonder. He crossed himself, and ejaculated a pious " Heaven help us ! " and touched the child's cheek with the tip of his finger, and turned its face from its nurse's dusky breast in a very genuine amaze, which Pedro watched jealousl}^ The child cried sleepil}', and nestled under the reboso which the woman drew over it, hushing it in her arms, murmuring caressingly, as her own child tugged at her skirts, — "There, there, sleep little one, sleep ! nothing shall harm thee ; sleep, iJhinita, sleep ! " But the little waif — whose soft curls had suggested the pet name — was not yet to slumber ; for at that moment Dona Feliz appeared. Pedro noticed as she crossed the courtyard that she was extremely pale. Some of the women rushed toward her with voluble accounts of the beauty of the child and the fineness of its garments. She smiled wearil}', and turned from them to look at the found- ling. A flush spread over her face as she examined it, not reddening but deepening its clear olive tint. She looked at Rafael searchingly, at Pedro questioningly. He muttered over his thrice-told tale. " Was there no word, no paper ? " she said, but waited for no ansr er. " This is no plebeian child, Rafael. What shall we do with it? Doiia Isabel is not here, perhaps will not be here for j'ears ! " There was a buzz of astonishment, for this was the first intimation of Dona Isabel's intended length of absence. In the midst of it Pedro had taken the sleeping child from Refugio's somewhat reluctant arm, and wrapping it in a scarf taken from his niece's shoulders, had laid it on the sheepskin in the alcove in which he usually slept. This tacit ap|)ropriation perhaps settled the fate of the infant ; still Doiia Feliz looked at her son uneasil}^ and he rubbed his hpnds in perplexity. " Of all the days in the year for a babe like this to be left CITATA AND CHINITA. C7 con- have uiul >vho llic LS no of Us L'cady : him pions Avith ursc's Pedio estled ishing cliild e one, cep 1 cd the lomont ,ed the of the of the 5. She 1 found- l it, not oked at luttercd )aper V " ilebcian Isabel was tho ngth of ccn tho nt arm, niece's Icove in perhaps 3oked at rplexity. o be lel't here," lie said, " when, the Saints willing, I am to have one of m}' own ! No, no, mother, llita would never consent." "Consent to what?" she answered almost testil}-. " What ! Because this foundling chances to be white, would you have your wife adopt it as her own, when after soman}' years of prayer Heaven has sent her a child? No, no, Rafael, it would l)e madness ! " " There is no need," interpolated Pedro, with a half- savage eagerness, and with a look which, strangel}' com- bined of indignation and relief, should have struck dumb the woman who thus to the mind of the gate-keeper was revealed as the incarnation of deceit, — "there is no need. I will keep the child ; ' without father or mother or a dog to bark for me,' who can care for it better? Here are Refugio and Teresa and Florencia will nurse it for me. It will want for nothing." A chorus of voices answered bim : "We will all be its mother." — "Give it to me when it cries, and I will nurse it." — "The Saints will reward thee, Pedro ! " — in the midst of which, in answer to a call from^above, Doiia Fcliz hastened away, saying, " Nothing could be better for the present. Come, Rafael, you are wanted. I will write to Dona Isabel, Pedro ; she will doubtless do something when jou are tired of it. There is, for example, the asylum at Guanapila." Pedro gazed after her blankly. \r spite of that mo- mentary Ihish on the lace, Doiia Fcliz had seemed as open as the day. He never ceased thereafter to look upon her in indignant admiration and fear. Her slightest word was like a spell upon him. Pedro was of a mind to propitiate demons, rather than worship angels. There was something to his mind demoniacal in this Doiia Fcliz. Half an hour after she had ascended the stairs, and the idlers had dispersed to chatter over this event, leaving the new-found babe to its needed slumber, the woman who acted the part of midwife to Dona Rita ran down to the gate where Pedro and his niece were standing, to tell them that there was a babe, a girl, born to the wife of the administrador. A boy, who was lounging near, rushed otf to ring the church bell, for this was a long-wished- for event; but before the .first stroke fell on the air, GS CHATA AND CHINITA. fii the voice of Dona Fcliz was heard from the window: " Silence ! Silence ! there arc two. No bells, no bells ! " Two ! Dofia Rita still in peril ! The midwife rushed back to her post. The door was locked, and there was a momentary delay in opening it. "Where have you been," said Dona Feliz severely, "almost a half an hour away?" The wo..ian stared at her in amaze, — the time had flown ! Yes, there was the evidence, — a second infant in the lap of Dona Feliz, puny, wizened. She dressed it quickly, asking no assistance, ordering the woman sharply to the side of Dona Rita. "A thousand pities," said Don Rafael as he looked at it, " that it is not a boy 1 " Then as the thought struck him, he laughed softlj' : "Ay, perhaps it is for luck, — instead of the three kings, who always bring death, we have the three Marias."" Doiia Rita had heard something of the foundling, and smiled faintl3% "Thank God they were not all born of one mother," she said. " Ay ! give me my first-born here ; " and with the tiny creature resting upon her arm, and the second presently lying near, Dona Rita sank to sleep. taken i thnt wi there c and so brojist jiasso( goldo ^v'th w wiiich Cliiuitf Moa seldom their in with si as its I( in two eye-brc lashes i in will, iiidoion bewitci: admixtj XL Though tbo three Marias, as Don Rafael bad called thorn, thus entered upon life, or at least into that of the hacienda of Tres Hermanos, almost simultaneously', except at their baptism they found nothing in common. On that occasion, a few days later than that of which we have written, tlie aged priest, in the name of tlie Trinity, severally blessed Florentina, Rosario, and Dolores, — each name as was customary being joined to that of the virgin Queen of Heaven ; but as they left the church their paths separated as widely as their stations differed. Dolores, for whom in vain — were it designed to subdue or chasten her — was chosen so sad a name, was taken to the dusky little hut, a few rods from the gate, tl)nt was, when he chose to claim it, Pedro's home, and there cared for by his niece Florencia with an uncertain and 8omewh:it fractious tenderness, and nourished at the breast of whomsoever happened to be at hand. She passed through babyhood, losing her prettiness with the golden tingci of her hair, and as she grew older looking wUh wide-opened eyes out from a tangle of dark elf-locks, wnich explained the survival of her baby pet-name Chinita, or "little curly one." INIeanwhile the two children at the great house were seldom seen below stairs, so cherished and guarded was their infancy. Rosario grew a sturdj', robust little creature, with straight siiining brown hair, drawn back, as soon as its length would permit, from her clear olive temples, in two tight braids, leaving prominent the straight dark eye-brows that defined her low forehead. Long curling lashes shaded her large black eyes, — true Mexican eyes, in which the vivacity of the Spaniard and the dreamy indolence of the Aztec mingled, producing in youth a bewitching expression perhaps unequalled in any other admixture of races. She htid, too, the full cheeks, of i'l: 70 CJ/ATA AND CHINITA. I \ ■) I wliicli lutcr in life the bones would be proved too liii!,li, and the slightly prominent formation of jaw, where the li[)S, too full for beauty, closed over perfect teeth of daz- zling whiteness. Kosario was indeed a beauty, according to the standard of her country ; and Florentina so closely followed the same type, that she should have been the same, but there was a certain lack of vividness in her coloring which beside her sister gave her prettiness the appearance of a dimly reflected light. Rosario was strong, vivid, dominant ; Florentina, sweet, unobtrusive, spiiit- uelle, — though the}' had no such fine word at Ti-es Hermanos for a quality they recognized, but could not classify ; and so it came about, as time went on, and Ivosario romped and i)layed and was scolded and kissed, reproved and admired, that Florentina grew like a fragrant plant in the corner of a garden, which receives, it is true, its due meed of dew and sunshine, but is unnoticed, either for praise or blame, except when some chance passer-by breathes its sweet perfume, and glances down in wonder, as sometimes strangers did at Florentina. In the family, ignoring the fine name they had chosen for her, they called her little " snub-nose," — Cliata, — not reproachfully, but with the caressing accent which renders the nick- names of the Spanish untranslatable in an}' other tongue. So time i)assed on until the children were ibur years old. The little Chinita made her home at the gateway rather than at the hut with Florcncia, who by this time had married and had children of her own, and indeed felt no slight jealousy at the open preference her uncle showed for his foundling. For Pedro was a man of no vices, and his food and clothing cost him little ; so in some by-corner a goodly hoard of sixpences and dollars was accumulating, doubtless, for the ultiir benefit of the tiny witch who clambered on his knees, pulled his hair, and ate the choicest bits from his basin unreproved *, who thrust out her foot or her tongue at any of the rancheros who spoke to her, or with equally little reason fondled and kissed them ; and who at the sight of the admin'istrador or clerk or Dona Feliz, shrank beneath Pedro's striped blanket, peeping out from its folds with half-terrified, half- defiant eyes, which softened into admiration as Dona Pita and her children passed by. I ■.-■ s. CHAT A AND CHINITA. 71 Tliey also in tliuir turn used to look at her with wonder, she wjis so dilFerent from the score or more of hulf-niiked, brown little figures that lolled on the sand or in the door- ways of the huts, or crept in to Mass to stare at them with wide-opened black eyes. They used to pass these very conscious of their stitHy-starched pink skirts, their shining rebosos, and thin little slippers of colored satin. But though this wild little elf crouching by Pedro's side was as dirty and as unkempt as the other ranchero children, they vaguely felt that she was a creature to talk to, to play with, not to dazzle with Sunday finery, — for even so young do minds begin to reason. As for Chinita, after the rare occasions when she saw the children of the administrador, she tormented Pedro with questions. "What sort of a hut did they live in? What did they eat? Where did their pretty pink dresses come from?" This last question Pedro answered by sending by the first woman who went to the next village for a wonder V; flowered muslin, in which to her immense delight Chinita for a da}' glittered like a rainbow, but which the dust and grime soon reduced to a level with the more sombre tat- ters in which she usuall}' appeared. When these were at their worst, Doiia Feliz sometimes stopped a moment to look at her and throw a reproving glance at Pedro ; but she never spoke to him of the child either for good or ill. One day, however, — it was the day, the,y remembered afterward, on which the Padre Francisco celebrated Mass for the last time, — the two little girls accompanied by their mother and followed by their nurse went to the church in new frocks of deep purple, most wonderful to see. Chinita could not keep her eyes off them, though llosai'io frowned majestically, drawing her black eyebrows together and even slyly shaking a finger half covered with little rings of tinsel and bright-colored stones. But tlie other child, the little Chata, covertly smiled at her as she half guiltily turned her gaze from the saint before whose shrine she was kneeling; and that smile had so much of kindliness, curiosity, invitation in it that Chinita on the instant formed a desperate resolution, and determined at once to carry it through. iS'ow, it liad happened that from her earliest infancy 72 CIIATA AND CIIINITA. )!.: I I'ctlro had forbidden her to be taken, or hiter 'jo ;^o, into the court upon which the apartments of the aduiinistrador opened, ilvcrywhere else, — even into the stables wiierc the horses and mules, for all Pedro's confidence, might have kiclied or trodden her ; to the courtyard where the duck-pond was ; to the Icitclicn, where more than once she had stumbled over a pot of boiling black beans — anywhere, everywhere, might she go except to the small court which lay just back of the principal and most extensive one. How ollen had Chinita crossed the first, and in the very act of peeping through tlie doorway of the second iiad been snatched back by Pedro and carried kicking and scream- ing, tugging at his black hair and beard, back to the snake- hung vestibule to be terrified by some grim tale into sub- mission ; or on occasion had even been shut up in the hut to nurse Florencia's baby, — if nursing it could be called, where tlie heavy, fat lump of infant mortality was set upon the ragged skirt of the other rebellious infant, to pin her to her mother earth. Florencia perhaps resented tiiis mode of punishment more tlian either of the victims, for tliey be- gan with screams and generally ended by amicably falling asleep, — the straight coarse locks of the little Indian min- gling with the brown curls, still tinged with gold and red- dened at the tii)s by the sun, of the fairer-skinned girl. Upon tliis day, Chinita in her small mind resolved there should be no loitering at the doorway ; and scarcely had the two demure little maidens passed into tlie inner court and followed their mother up the stairway, when she darted in and looked eagerly' around. There was nothing terrible there at all, — an open door upon the lower floor showing tlie brick lloor of a dining-room, where a long table set for a meal stood, and a boy was moving about in sandalled feet making ready for the mid-day dinner. There was a great earthen jar of water sunk a little in the fioor of a far cor- ner, and some chairs scattered about. A picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe, under which was a small vessel of holy water, met her eyes as she glanced in. She turned away disappointed and went to another door, that of a sit- ting-room, as bare and uninviting as tlie dining-room, but with an altar at one end, above which stood a figure of Mary with the infant Jesus in her arms. Even the saints in the churcl may were not so gorgeous as this. Chinita gazed CHATA AND CIIINITA. 73 in admiration and delight ; if she coi d have taken the waxen babe from the mother's armt he would have sat down then and there in utter absorption and forgetfuhiess. As it was, she erossed herself and ran out among the flower- pots in the courtyard and anxiously looked up. Yes, there leaning over the railings of the corridor were those she sought. At sight of her liosario screamed with de- light, her budding aristocratic scruples yielding at once to the charms of novelty. Chata waved her hand and smiled, both running eagerly to descend the stairs and grasp their new play-fellov '' What is yc !r - .me?" asked both in a breath. "Why are you alwa s wui Pedro, at the gate? Who is your mother, and why have you got such funny hair? Who combs it for you? Docs n't it hurt? " Chinita ansT orcd this last question with a rueful grim- ace, at th same time putting one dirty little finger on llosario's c^ral necklace, — a libert}' which that damsel re- sented with a sharp slap, which was instantly returned with interest, much to Kosario's surprise and Chata's dismay. At the cry which Kosario uttered, following it up with sobs and lamentations, both Dona Feliz and Dofia Eita appeared. Kosaric Hew to her mother. "Oh, the naughty cat ! the bad, wicked girl ! she scratched me ! she slapped me ! " she cried, between her sobs. Chata followed her sister, still keeping Chinita's hand, which she had caught in the fray. " Poor Kosario! poor little sister," she said pityingl}' ; "but, Mamacita^ just look where Rosa slapped the poor pretty Chinita," and she softly smoothed the cheek which Chinita sullenly strove to turn awa}'. " Why, it is that wretched little foundling of Pedro's ! " cried Doila Rita, indignantly, as she wiped Rosario's streaming cheeks. "Get you gone, you fierce little ti- gress ! Chata, let go her hand ; she will scratch you, she may bite you next." " Oh, no," cooed Chata, quite in the ear of the ragged little fury beside her ; while Dona Foliz, who had been silent, placed her fingers under the chin of the little waif, and lifted her face to her gaze. " Ue not angry at a children's quarrel," she said ; " they will be all the better friends for it later." 74 a/ ATA AND CIIINITA, I) H " But I don't wish tliciii to bo friends," cried Dona Ivita, — tliough the tibsohite separiition ol" classes rendered intiniiite association possible and connnon between them which neither detracted from the dignity of the one caste, nor was likely to arouse emulation in the other. " What a wild, savage little fox ! No, no, my lamb, she shall not come near thee again ! " Ihit the mother's lamb was of another mind, for sud- d.Mily she stopped crying, pulled the new-comer's ragged skirt, and said, " Come along, I'll show you my liLlle fishes ; " and in another moment, to Dona Ritas amaze- ment and Dona Feliz's quiet amusement, the thiee chil- dren were leaning together, chatting and laughing, over the edge of the stone basin in the centre of the court. In the midst of their play, a sudden fanc}' seized Dona Feliz. Catcliing ui) a towel that lay at hand, she halC- playfuU}', luilf-commamlingly caught the elf-liiie child and washed her face. "What a smooth soft skin, what deli- cately pencilled brows appeared ! how red was the bow of that perfect little mouth 1 Doiia Rita sighed for very envy ; Dona Feliz held the little face in her hands, and looked at it intently. But Chinita, already rebellious at tlic water and towel, absolutel}' resented this ; and in si)ite of tlie cries of the children she broke awa^' and ran from the courtyard, arriving breathless at the knees of Pedro, to cover herself with the grimy folds of his blanket. Little by little he drew from her what had passed, com- forting her though he made no audible comment ; and an hour later Dona Feliz, catching sight of the child, wondered how it had been possible for her to get her face so dirty in so short a time, though a suspicion of the truth soon caused her to smile gravel}'. While Chinita had been telling her adventures, Pedro had drawn his grimy fingers tenderly over her cheeks, in this way at once resenting Dona Feliz's interference, curiosit}', interest, whatever it was, and man- ifesting his sympatl■' it^M's of cedar, u[)on which beat the last rays of the rictting sun. The great event of the American War had despoiled Tres Ilermanos of many of its 3'oung men. Others had 1 CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 81 1 from time to time been drawn into the broils that followed, and which had been augmented by the dictatorship of Santa Anna ; yet the estate itself had escaped invasion. Its great storehouses of grain remained intact, its fields were untrodden by the horses of soldiery either hostile or iViendly ; but a change menaced it, — a hoarse murmur as of the sea seemed to gather and break against the bulwark of mountains that environed it. News of the great events of the day penetrated the remote valley, and with them vague appreliensions and disquiet. Even the laborers in the fields felt the oppression of the storm which was raging without, and which threatened to break upon them. Their hearts quaked ; they knew not what an hour might bring forth. For the first time they realized that the great events which had been transpiring, and were still in prog; S3 be3'ond their cordon of hills, meant more to them than food for gossip, or an attraction to some idle l)oy to whom army life meant a frolic and freedom from work. These events had followed one another in such rapid succession, and were seemingl}' so contradictory, that to the onlooker the}' appeared irrational, childish, even trai- torous. But in truth the}' were the vague, blind outstrctch- ings of a people groping for self-government, for a liberty and peace whicii they were both by nature and training as yet unprepared to enjoy. The thraldom of Spain hail left them madly hupatient of fetters, yet they clung to the stake to which th.'y had been chained. Were the prop called King or President, an individual rather than abstruse principles was demanded to uphold them. This it was which in tiie chaos that followed the war with the United States led them to recall the man whom they luid exiled, — the man who had failed them in their greatest need, yet whose unaccountable ascendency over the minds of the masses led them to turn to him again as a deliverer, and whose triumphant march through the land intensified a thousand times the prevailing misery. As one of the historians of Mexico says of Santa Anna, — " On his lips had been heard tlie words of brotherhood and reconciliation. The majority had believed in them, because they thought that in the solitude of exile the experience of years and the spectacle of his alliicted country nmst have puri- fied and instructc'l the man. It is impossible to say whether G S" -"^^ dfc 82 CHATA AND CHINITA. ■M' J li his was hypocrisy or a flash of good faith ; but certain it is he deceived those who believed, and silenced those who had no faith in his words, and none can imagine the days of distress and mourning which followed. " His term of office was to last a year; his promises were to redeem his nation from the yoke of slavery, to announce a code of wise and just measures which should insure its happiness and prosperity. A hopeless task, perhaps, in the midst of a nation distracted by years of foreign and civil wars ; but at least an attempt was possible. But when once the sweets of power were tasted, all sense of honor and patriotism was lost in the intoxi- cation of personal ambition. Beguiled by promises of protec- tion of their interests, so often and so violently assailed by the Liberal and Conservative parties, the clergy and their adherents in all parts of the Republic secured the passage of an Act which declared him perpetual ruler, with the title of Serene Highness, with his will as his only law, and his caprices his only standard." Those not lo^t in the inconceivable stupor which the deadly upas in their midst cast far and near, opened wide eyes of aiaaze. A trumpet cry rang through the land ! Liberals and Conservatives, even the less bigoted of the clerical party^ f;prang to arms. The entire nation, griev- ing and rethicod to misery by the loss of ninety thousand men who had been dragged from their homes to suj^port the pomp and power of the tjTant, to become a prey ui)on the land, and upon the helpless families of whom they should naturally have been the support, had refused long to be dazzled by the spectacle of military pomp, or to be beguiled by the fiestas and processions which in every town and village made the administration one that ap- peared a prolonged carnival and madness. These con- tinued insults to the public misery ; the daily proscriptions of men who dcred to raise the voice or write a line against the Dictator or his senseless polic}' ; the oppressions of the army ; the cold, cruol, implacable espionage which made life unendurable, — these wrought quickly their inevitable consequences among a people accustomed to disorder and revolutions, and who in their blind, irrational way longed for liberty. Disgust and detestation of the dictatorship became general. As suddenly as it had sprung into being it was met and crushed. Rebellions sprang up on eveiy hand ; the populace rose in mass ; the statues of Santa Anna were thrown down ip the streets, his portraits stoned ; gni *:"*»"">»yw to be i CHATA AND CIIuV/'A. 33 the houses of his adherents were ir ":e('lvide eyes upon the glory of tiie pur[)ling mountains, and then with mundane cui'iosity dropping them upon the more homely attractions within hearing as well as sight. And upon that special afternoon in 0(;tober these chanced to be of a somewhat unusual character ; for across the plain rode one of those predatory bands, which in those wild days sprang up like magic even in the most isolated regions, — the arid mountains and the fertile plains alike furnishing their quota of material, which blindly, ignor- antly, but for that none the less furiousl}-, became sacri- fices to the ambition of a sc'ore or more contesting chiefs. Yet amid the cni»itlity, unscrupnlousness, and bar])arity of these chiefs still lingered the spirit of liberty, which though drenched in l)loo(l, and bound down b}' ecclesiastical as well as military despotism, was yet to rise triiunphant, perhaps after its years of long struggle stronger, purer, holler than the world before iiad known it. l)Ut license rather than liberty seemed to animate those wild spirits who, invigorated after a long day's march l)y 1he sight of a halting i)lace, urged their steeds with wild shouts and blows with the fiat side of their sabres, as well vol of it wl he an( ore wit hin CHATA AND CIIINITA. 85 tlioy t; led those icli ho sLiitc, ich his I'omiso physi- . His of the awoke it Tres land of opened in the rcadcd. a little scMVce look in tj; nitains, pon the s sight, chanced ross the n those isolated ns alike , ignor- ic sacri- 1 chiefs. )arl)arity >', which isiastical mphant, ;", purer, ite those narch hy nth wild 3, as well as w nlaii ith applications from their clanking si)ur8, across the J scattered at wl als dit be the -»»■■ inter' y women, on nuu'i or donkey back, with their cooking implements hangi ig from the l)auniers upon which they squatted in security and com- fort, nursing their babies or (juieting the more fractious older children, as the animals they rode paced quietly on or broke into a jog-trot at their own wills. It was a cause of great excitement and delight to the children in the balcony to see the soldiers — most of them still arrayed in their ranchero dress of buff leather, but some of them resplendent in blue-and-red cloth, with stripes of gilt upon their arms and caps — stop at the huts along the principal street or lane of the village, and laughingly take possession, bitkling Trinita and Francisca and Florencia, and the rest of them, to go or stay as it pleased them. Some of the women were frightened and began to cr}' and bewail, but others found acquaintances among the new arrivals ; and there was nuich laughing and talking, in the midst ofwhich two personages who appeared to be the leaders of the [)arty, and who were followed by a dozen or more comi)anions and servants, rode up to the hacienda gates, and one, scarce!}- pausing for an answer from the astonished Pedro whom he saluted l)y name, rode into the courtyti'd, whitlier he was followed by the gate-keeper, who with stoical calm yet evident amaze- ment saluted him as Don Vicente ; and holding his stirrup as he dismounted added in a low voice, — ''TheSninls defend us, Don Vicente! The sight of you is like ruin in JNIav, — it will bless the whole year! Heaven grant your followers leave untouched the harvest of new maize ! Don Ivalacl would go out of his senses if ,it were broached and trami)l{>d on liy this rabble, — begging your (irace's jjardon a thousand times!" Don Vicente, as the young man was called, laughed as he stamped his feet on tlie bri(!k pavement until his spurs and thi! chains and buttons on his riding suit clanked again, — though he looked half sadly, half furtively around. "■ Have no fear, Pedro good friend, the men have their orders. The Cieneral, Jost- Kamirez, is not to be trifled with ; " and he glanced at his companion, a man older than himself, but still in the prime of life, who had also dismounted I '■■ 1 '*' I '1 .11 ) I- 1 86 CIIATA AND CIIINITA. ■ ;(' if and was shaking hands with Don Rafael, with many polite expressions of pleasure at meeting the courageous and prudent adniinistrador of Trcs Ilermanos. These compliments were returned with rather pallid lips by Don Rafael, who however upon being recognized by Don Vicente, who advanced to embrace him with the cordialit3' of a friend, though with something of the con- descension of a superior, regained his coiuposure with the rapidit}' natural to a man who having fancied himself in some peril finds himself under the protection of a powerful and generous patron. He hastened in the name of Dona Isabel to place everything the hacienda contained at the disposal of the visitors, luaking a mental reservation of the new maize and sundry fine horses that happened to bo in the courtyards. Chinita, who had pushed her way through the crowd of children and half-grown idlers that had been attracted to the court, and were gazing in silent and opened-mouthcd wonderment and admiration at the imposing personage called the General Jos6 Ramirez, was so absorbed in the contemplation of his half-military^, half- equestrian bravery of riding tiousers of stamped leather trimmed with silver buttons, and wide felt hat gorgeous with gold and silver cords and lace, his epauletted jacket, and scarlet sash bristling with silver-handled pistols and stillotto, that she took no heed when a servant came to lead away the charger upon which the object of her admiration had been mounted, and so narrowly' escaped being knocked down and trampled upon. " Have a care thou !" cried Don Vicente, as he sprang forward and clutched the child by the arm, drawing her out of danger, while a score of voices — the General's per- haps the most indifferent among them — reiterated epithets of abuse to the servant and admonition to the child. In the midht of the commotion, Don Rafael conducted the two officers to rooms -which were hastilv assigned them. As they disapi)cared, Chinita's c j-es followed them. She was not especially grateful for her escape : it was not the first time she had been snatched from beneath tlic feet of a restive horse ; the incident was natural enough to her, jiii'l perhaps for this reason her rescuer was not specially in L'. resting to her mind. Somewhat to her disgust, an I CE.y^A AND CIIINITA. 87 hour later, when she had managed to steal unobserved into the supper-room, where she crouched in a corner, she saw Kosario and Chata from their seats at their mother's side regarding the young oUiccr with amiable smiles, — llosario with infantile coquetry, drooping her long lashes demurely over her soft dreamy black eyes ; and Chata, with her orbs of a nondescript gray, frankly though coyly taking in every detail of his face and dress, while they averted themselves as if startled or repelled from the dark countenance of his companion. It might have been thought that Dona Feliz shared her dread, for more than once she looked at the General with an expression of perplexity and aversion, as he lightly entertained Dona Rita with an account of hia family and his own exploits, — topics strangely chosen for a Mexican, but which seemed natural rather than egotistical when lightly and wittily expatiated upon by this gay soldier of fortune. Meanwhile, Don Vicente Gonzales was talking in a low voice to Doiia Feliz. lie ate little and drank only some wat3r mixed with red wine, while Don Rafael and the General Ramirez partook freely of more generous stimulants, growing more talkative as the evening advanced ; and at last, as the ladies rose from the table, and Dona Rita went with the children to the upper rooms, the two walked away together to inspect the horses and talk of the grand reforms initiated by Comonlbrt, which in reality had but lilled the country with discontent and bloodslied. The poison of personal ambition was working in the new Presi- dent slowly — as it had done more rapidly in his renowned predecessor Santa Anna — the change from the i)atriot to the demagogue, lie who had talked and worked and fought for the liberties of Mexico, dallied with the chains he should have broken. m I 4. 'i '•■Si 'h'^ i :!^': XIV. As Don Rafael in an unwonted state of complacency, which drew the anxious eyes of his mother ui)on him, dis- ai)pear(.'d with his jovial guest tiie General, the younger olllccr, Don Vicente Gonzales, drew a long breath of re- lief, and at a sign from Dona Feliz followed her to the window, with the half-sombre, half-expectant air of one wlio is about to speak of past events with an old and tried friend ; and throwing himself into a chair, he turned his face toward her with the air and gesture which says more plainl}' than words, "What have you to tell, or ask? We are alone; let. us exchange confidences." In truth they were not quite alone. Chinita had half- sulkily, haU'-defiantly, crept after Dona P'eliz, and had sunk down in her usual crouching attitude within the shadow of the wall. She would have preferred to follow Don Raftiel and the General in their rounds, but she knew that was impracticable ; Pedro would have stopped her at tlie gate, and sent her to Florencia, or kept her close beside him, — and so even the inferior pleasure of seeing and listening to the less attractive stranger would have been denied her. Chinita was an imaginative child ; she used sometimes to stand upon the balcony_ with Chata, and gaze and gaze far away into the blue which seemed to lie beyond the farthest hills, and wonder vaguely what strange creatures lived there. Sometimes her wild ima- gination pictured such uncouth monsters, such terrifying shapes, that she herself was seized with nervous trem- blings, and Cliata and Rosario would clasp each other and cry out in fright ; but oftcner she peopled that world with cavaliers such as she had occasional!}' seen, and stately dames sucli as she imagined Dona Isabel and the niila Ilerliiula must be, — for the accudcntal mention of those names was as jiotcnt as would have been the smoke of opium to fill her bruin with dreams. By the sight of CHATA AND C/fhV/TA. 89 laccncy, iin, (lis- punger 1 of re- [• to the • of one !id tried •ncd his ys more or ask? ad half- md had thin the follow he knew pcd her ler close seeing lid have ild ; she 1 Chata, seemed ely what ild ima- jrrifying us trem- thcr and )rld with I stately he nina of those moke of bight of Don Josi'; Ramirez in hia picturesque apparel, part of those vague dreams seemed realized ; and even the (juiet flgurti of Don Vicente and the sound of his stranger voice had tlio charm of novelty. She placed herself where she could best see his face, with infantile philosophy contenting lua- self with the next best where the actual pleasure desired was unattainable. She was ver}' quiet; fov she had natur- ally the Indian stcalthincss of moveraont, and she had besides a vague instin'^t that lier presence upon the cor- ridor might be forbid.icn. Still she did not feel herself in any sense an intruder ; she folt as a petted animal may be supposed to do, that she 1m I a perfect right in any spot from wliidi she was not Jnven. 13ut as Dona Feliz and the new-comer wore long silent, she became impatient, and half-resolved to settle herself to sleep there and then. She had drawn her feet under her, covering them with the ragged edges of her skirt, and drawing her scarf over her head and shoulders, tightly over the arms which clasped her knee, looked out as from a little tent, and inotead of sleeping became grad- uall}' absorbed in the contemplation of the face and ligure which, when seen beside those of the dashing Ramirez, bad appeared gloomy and insignificant. The young man was dressed in black ; the close-fitting riding trousers, the short round jacket, the wide hat, which now lay on the ground beside him, being relieved only by a scanty supply of silver buttons, — a contrast to the usual lavishness of a young cavalier ; and in its severe outlines and its expres- sion of gloom, his lace, as he sat in the moonlight, was in entire harmony with his dress. How rigid looked the clear-cut profile against the dead whiteness of the colunm against which it rested, his close-cropped head framed in bhick, his youthful brow corrugated in painful thought. Suddenly he lifted the dark eyes which had rested upon Dona Feliz, and turned them on the fountain which was splashing within the circle of ilowering plants and murmured : — " I feci as though in a dream. Is it possible I am hero, and she is gone, gone forever? How often I have seen her by the side of the fountain, raising herself upon the jutting stone-work to pluck the red geraniums and place them in her hair ! Even .when I was a boy her pretty un- U m *-." IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 !P I.I 1.25 Ik 1125 1^ 1^ ^ Illlli4 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 i^ w^. U. % I ', ■^^ ■ rr 90 CHATA AND CHINITA. studied ways delighted me, — and Ilerlinda as naturally as slie breathed acted her dainty coquetriv-s. And to fancy now that all that grace and beauty is lost to me, to the world, forever ! that she is sacrificed — buried ! " He spoke bitterly and sighed, yet with that tone of renunciation which more completely than to death itself, marks the voices of the children of the Church of Rome as they yield their loved ones to her cloisters. It was in the voice of Dona Feliz, as she presently replied, — " It seems indeed a strange destiny for so bright a life ; but against the call of religion we cannot murmur, Vicente. Many and great have been the sins of the Garcias. May Herlinda's prayers, her vigils, her tears condone them ! '* She crossed herself and sighed heavily. *'I cannot accept even the inevitable so calml}'," cried the young man in sudden passion. "I loved her from a child ; I never had a thought but for her ! She was promised me when we were boy and girl ! She used to tease me, saying she hated me, and then with a soft glance of her dark eyes disarmed my anger. She would thrust me from her with her tiny foot, and then draw me to her with one slender finger hooked in the dangling chain of a jacket button, and laughingl}' promise to be good, breaking her word the next moment. She would taunt me when I sprang toward her in alarm as she leaped from the fountain parapet, and in turn would cry out in agonies of fright as I hung from the highest boughs of the garden trees, or when I clashed by her on the back of a half-broken horse, stopping him or throwing him per- haps on his haunches, with one turn of the cruel bit. Through all her vagaries I loved her, and perhaps the more because of them ; and I fancied she loved me. Even later, when she had grown more formal and I more ardent, I believed that her coy repulses were but maiden arts to win me on." " I always told Dona Isabel," interrupted Feliz, " that such freedom of intercourse between youth and maiden would but lead to weariness on one side or the other. But she was a hater of old customs. She said there was more danger in two glances exchanged from the pavement and the balcony than in hours of such youthful chat and frolic." IS CHATA AND CHINITA. 91 *' Yot this freedom was designed to bind our hearts to- gether," said Vicente. " The wish of Dona Isabel's heart for years was to see us one day man and wife. Yet she changed as suddenly — more suddenly and completely than Herlinda did. What is the secret? Is not Tres Hermanos productive enough to provide dowers for two daughters ? Is all this to be centred on Carmen ? Rich men have immured their daughters in convents to leave their wealth undivided. Can it be that Dofia Isabel — " "Be silent!" interrupted Dofia Feliz, as she might have done to a foolish child. "Let us talk no more of Herlinda, Vicente ; it makes my heart sore, and can but torture thine." " No, it relieves me ; it soothes me," cried Vicente. " I have longed to come here to talk to you. Dona Isabel is unapproachable. She has relapsed once more into the icy impenetrability that characterized her in that terrible time so many years ago. I can just remember — " " Let the dead ix'st," cried Dofia Feliz, sharply. " That is a forbidden subject in Doiia Isabel's house. You are her guest." Vicente accepted the reproof with a shrug of his shoul- ders, and Doiia Feliz added, as if at once to turn his thoughts and afford the sympathy he craved, " Talk to me then, if you will, of Herlinda. Do you know where she is now ? " " Yes, in Lagos, in that dreariest of prisons the con- vent of Our Lady of Tribulation. Think you Maria San- tisima can desire such scourgiugs, such long fastings, such interminable vigils as they saj' are practised there ? God grant the scoffers are right, and that the reputed self- immolations are but imaginings, — tales of the priests to attract richer offerings to the Church shrine. When I saw it, it was groaning beneath vessels of gold and silver and wreaths of jewels. Oh, Feliz ! Feliz ! higher and heavier than the treasures they pile on their altars are the woes these monks and nuns accumulate upon our devoted countr}' ! " Doiia Feliz glanced around waril}^ but an expression of genuine acquiescence gleamed from her ej-es. " You are where I have always hoped to see j'ou," she said in a low tone ; " but beware of a too indiscriminate 92 CHATA AND QHINITA. zeal. They saj' Comonfort himself has been too hasty, must draw back — retract — *' ''Retract!" cried Vicente. "Never! Down, I say, with these tyrants in priestly garments, — these robbers in the guise of saints I The land is overrun with them ; their dwellings rise in hundreds in the sunlight of prosperit}^ and the hovels of the poor are covered in the darkness of their oppressions. The finest lands, the richest mines, the wealth of whole families have passed into their cunning and grasping hands. There is no right, either temporal or spiiitual, but is controlled b}' them. Better let us be lost eternally than be saved by such a clergy. What, saved by bull-baiters, cock-fighters, the deluders of the widow and orphan, the oppressors of the poor ! " " You are bitter and unjust," interrupted Dona Fcliz ; "remember, too, the base ministers of the Church take nothing from the sanctity of her ordinances." "So be it," answered Vicente, with a short laugh, "you think " Perhai^s," he added, a snort laugn, "you tnmK I have lost m^'^ senses. No, no ; but my personal loss has quickened my sense of public wrongs. In losing Herlinda, 1 lost all that held me to the past, — old superstitions, old deceptions. The idle boyish life died then, and up sprang the discontented, far- seeing, turbulent new spirit which spurns old dogmas, breaks old chains, and cries for freedom." Vicente had risen to his feet ; his face lighted with en- thusiasm ; his pain was for a moment forgotten. The listening child felt a glow at her heart, though his words were as Greek to her. Dofia Feliz thrilled with a purer, more reasonable longing for that liberty which as a child she had heard proclaimed, but which had flitted mockingly above hei country, refusing to touch its ground. Her enthusiasm kindled at that of the 3'oung man, though his sprung from bitterness. How many enthusiasms own the same origin ! Sweetness and content produce no frantic dissatisfactions, no daring aims, no conquering endeavors. " You belie j'ourself," she said, after a pause. " It is not merely the bitterness of j'our heart which has made you a patriot. The needs, the wrongs, the aspirations of the time have aroused jou. Had Herlinda been yours, 3'ou still must have listened to those voices. With such men CHAT A AND CIJINITA. 93 too hasty, wn, I say, I robbers in ;hem; their prosperitj'^, [iarkness of mines, the 3ir cunning 3r temporal jr let us be y. What, ders of the Dona Feliz ; !hurch take " he added, in}' senses, my sense of hat held rae s. The idle ntentcd, far- Id dogmas, ted with en- atten. The rh his words irith a purer, 3h as a child d mockingly round. Her nan, though enthusiasms cnt produce a conquering use. (( It is ch has made ,spirations of sn yours, j'ou ith such men as you at his call, Comonfort should not falter. The cause he espoused must triumph." " Humph ! " muttered Vicente, doubtfully, while Feliz, with a sudden qualm at her outspoken approbation of measures subversive of an authority that her training had made her believe sanctioned by heaven cried : — "Ave Maria Santisima! what have I said? In blam- ing, in casting reproach upon the clergy, am I not cast- ing mud upon our Holy Mother the Church ? " " Feliz ! " cried Vicente, impatiently, " that question too asks Comonfort. Such irrational fears as these arc the real foes of progress ; and so deeply are old prejudices and su- perstitions rooted, that they find a place in every heart ; no matter how powerful the intellect, how clear the com- prehension of the political situation, how scrupulous or unscrupulous the conscience, the same ghostly fears hang over all. What spells have those monks with their oppres- sions and their shameless lives thrown over us that we have been wax in their hands ? Think of j'our own father, — a man of [)arts, generous, lofty-minded, but a fanatic. He shunned the monto table, the bull-fight, and all such costly sports as the hacenderos love ; he almost lived in the Church. But that could not keep misfortune from his door : his cattle died ; his horses were driven away in the revolution ; his fields were devastated ; and he was forced to borrow money on his lands. And to whom should ho look but the clergy, — who so eager to lend, who so suave .1-nd kind as they ? And when he was in the snare, who so pitiless in winding it around and about him, strangling, withering his life ? " " But, Vicente," said Feliz, in a hard, embittered voice, " in our lot there was a show of justice. If you would have a more unmitigated use of pitiless craft, think of the fate of your own cousin Inez." The child within the shadow of the wall was listening breathlessly. Her innate rebellion against all authority made her quick to grasp the situation ; a secret detesta- tion of the coarse-handed, loud-voiced village priest who had succeeded Padre Francisco at Tres Herraanos quick- ened her apprehension. She looked at Vicente with glisi;- ening eyes. " Ah, well I remember poor Inez," he said ; " forced by her father to become a nun, that at his death 94 CHATA AND CHINITA. |i :i I ho might win pardon for his soul by satisfj-ing the greed of his councillors, she implored, wept, raved, fell into imbecil- ity, and died ; and her sad story, penetrating even the thickness of convent walls, was blackened by the assertion that she was possessed of devils foul arid unclean, — she, the whitest, purest soul that ever stood before the gates of heaven." His voice choked ; he was silent and sank again into his chair. " And Coraonfort," he muttered prep'mtly, " strives to conciliate wretches such as these. He \z a man, Feliz, who with all his courage believes a poor compromise bet- ter than a long fight. Ah, the world believes Mexicans savage, unappeasable, blood-thirsty. How can they be otherwise with these blind leaders who precipitate them into those ditches which they fondly hope will prove roads to liberty and peace ! " Feliz looked at him with disquietude. " What, Vi- cente," she said, " are you a man to be blown about by evory wind, — a mere ordinary revolutionist seeking a new chief for each fresh battle ? " Vicente flushed at the insinuation. *' One cause and a tJiousand chiefs if need be," he said. " But there is now a man in Mexico, Feliz, who must inevitably become the head of this movement, — who, like the cause, will remain the same through all mischances. To-day he is the friend of Comonfort, but who knows ? To-morrow — " " He may be his enemy," ejaculated Feliz. " I wonder if in all this land there can be found one man who can be faithful ! " "To-morrow," said Vicente, completing his sentence, " he may be the friend and leader of all the lovers of free- dom in Mexico; and if so, my leader. I have talked with that man, and he sees to the farthest ramifications of this great canker that is eating out the very vitals of our land. You will hear of him soon, Feliz, if you have not done so already. His name is Benito Juarez." Feliz smiled. "What, tha<; Indian?" she said. "It is a new thing for a gentleman of pure Spanish blood to choose such a leader. Ah, Vicente, you disappoint me ! It must be this Ramirez, who has in his every movement the air of a guerilla, a free- fighter, who has infected you." [Ill CHATA AND CHINITA. 95 " No," answered Vicente, sullenly, '* Ramirez has no in- fluence over me ; only the fortune of war has thrown us together, — a blustering fellow on the surface, but so deep, so astute, that none can fathom him. He is not the man I could make my friend." " Where does he come from? " asked Dona Feliz with interest. " There is something familiar to me in his voice or expression." *' A mere fancy on 3'our part," answered Vicente ; "just such a fancy as makes me glance at him sometimes as ho rides silent at my side, and with a sudden start clap my hand upon my sword. I have an instinctive dread of him, — not a fear, but such a dread as I have of a deadly rei> tile. I wonder," he added gloomily, "if it is to be my fate to take his life." Feliz shuddered. Chinita's ej^es flashed. '* And yet once I saved him, when we were fighting against the guerillas of Ortiz. He was caught in a defile of the mountains ; four assailants dashed upon him at once with exultant cries ; and though he fought gallantly, had I not rushed to the rescue he must have been killed there. Together we beat the villains off, and he fancies he owes me some thanks ; and perhaps too I have some kindness for the man I saved, — and yet there are times when I cannot trust myself to look upon him." " Strange ! strange indeed ! " said Dofia Feliz, musingly. " I have heard his name before. Is he not the man who stopped the train of wagons by which the merchants of Guanapila were despatching funds to make their foreign payments, and who took fifty thousand dollars or more to pay his troops ? " "The same," answered Vicente; "and those troops were reinforced by a chain-gang he had released the day before, — vile miscreants every one. We quarrelled over each of these acts ; but he laughed us all — the merchants, the government, myself — into good-humor again. He is one of those anomalies one detests, and admires, — crafty, daring, licentious, superstitious, yielding, cruel, all in turn and when least expected. He will rob a city with one hand, and feed the poor or enrich a church with the other. But here he comes ! " The man thus spoken of was, indeed, crossing the court mBBTs:*nstm .ill! il! ! ( 96 CHATA AND tlllNITA. with Don Rafael, who seemed to reel slightly in his walk, and was laughing and talking volubly. "Yes, yes," he was saying, as he came within hearing, "you are right, Senor Don Jose ; the herd of brood mares of Tres Herma- nos is the finest in the country. There are more than a hundred well-broken horses in the pasture, besides scores upon scores that no man has crossed. I sent a hundred and lift}' to Don Julian a month ago. Dona Isabel begrudges nothing to the cause of liberty." " Then I will take the other huiidrcd to-morrow," said Ramirez, lightly. Don Rafael stared at him blankly. There was something in the General's face that almost sobered him. The countenance of Gonzales da"kened. " Believe me, Seiior Comonfort shall know of 3'our good- will, and that of the excellent lady Dona Isabel," con- tinued Ramirez, suavely. '■ She will lose nothing by the complacency of her adminisi rador," and as he \^poke, he smiled half indulgently, half contemptuou'^!ly, upon Don Rafael. " You promised me thai here at least no seizures should be made," exclaimed Don Vicente, in a low indignant voice, hot with the thought that even the men he had him- self mustered and commanded were so utterly under the spell of Ramirez that upon any disagreement they were likely to shift their allef.iance, — for those free companies were even less to be depended upon than the ca.^'.y re- bellious regulars. "There have been no seizures, nor will there be," an- swered the General, laughing. " Don Rafael and I have been talking together as friends and brothers ; he has told me of his amiable family, and I him of my foot- sore troops." Vicente, silenced but enraged, glared upon Ramirez as he bade farewell to Dona Feliz. As he took her hand, he bent and lightly kissed it. The action was a common one, — Doiia Feliz scarcely noticed it; her eyes rested upon her son, who shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, his garrulity checked, his gaze confused and alarmed. " We shall be gone at dnybreak. You will be glad to be rid of us," the (xeneral said laughingly; " yet we are innocent folk, and would do ,you no harm. Hark ! how sweetly our followers are singing," — and, indeed, the CHATA'AND CHINITA. 97 n his walk, 8, yes " " he I are right, res Herma- loro than a ides scores undred and 1 begrudges )rrow," said m blankly, that almost a"kened. r your good- sabel," con- ihing by the le :spoke, he , upon Don izures should w indignant he had him- ly under the it they were ;e companies he cu.-*' y re- lere be," an- il and I have lers; he has of ^ny foot- 1 Ramirez as her hand, he common one, rested upon tf> the other, alarmed, rili be glad to " yet we are Hark! how indeed, the plaintive notes of a love ditty faintly floated on the air, " My adieus to the Sefiora de Sanchez and her lovely children." While the General spoke thus, with many low jows and formal words of parting, h'^ wus, quite in the shadow of the wall. Do3a Feliz could jcai'ce see his face, but Chi- nitu's eyes never left it. As he turned away, a sob rose in her throat; but for a sudden fear, she would have d-^rtod after him. Her blood seemed afire. There was sonic i-hing in the very atmosphere stirred by this man that roused 'ler wild nature, even as the advent of its fellow casts an admonishing scent upon the air breathed by some savage beast. Don Rafael stole away to bed, but Don Vicente and Dona Feliz continued their interrupted conversation far into the night. Chinita sat in the same place, and slum- bered fitfully, and dreamed. All through her dreams sounded the voice of the General Ramirez ; all through her dreams Gonzales followed him, with hand upon his sword. It was near morhing, when at last the child awoke, chilled and stiff, and found herself alone in the corridor. The moon had sunk, and onlj' the faint light of the stars shone on the vast and silent building; but she was not afraid. She was used to dropping asleep, as did others of the peasant class, where best it suited her, and at best her softest bed was a sheep-skin, She sleepily crept to the most sheltered part of the corridor and slept again. But the stony pillow invited to no lengthy repose ; and when the dawn broke, the sound of movement in the outer court quickly roused her, and she ran out just in time to see the oflficers hastily swallowing their chocolate, while Don Rafael, Pedro, and a crowd of laborers, shiver- ing in their jorongos^ were looking on, while the sumpter mules were being laden. At the village, the camp women were already making their shrill adieus, taking their de- lurture upon sorry beasts, laden with screeching chickens, grunting young pigs, and handfuls of rice, coffee, chile, or whatever edibles they had been able to filch or beg, tied in scraps of cloth and hung from their wide panniers, where the children were perched at imminent risk of losing their balance and breaking their brown necks. It was not 98 CHATA AND CHINITA. I I [1; It i known, however, that such accidents had ever happened, and the women jogged merrily away, to fail into the rear when outstripped hy their better mounted lords. Don Rafael wore a gloomy face. A squad of soldiers had already been despatched for the horses ; his own herders were lassooing them in the pastures, and they were presently driven past the hacienda gates, plunging and snorting. He felt that had he not in Dofia Isabel's name yielded them, they would have been forcibly seized ; yet his conscience troubled him. The night before he had drunk too much ; the wine had strangely affected him, — he had been maudlin and garrulous. These were times when no prudent man should talk unnecessarily, and es- pe(;ially to such a listener as the adventurer General Jose Ramirez. The neighing and whinnying of the horses, the hollow ringing of their unshod hoofs upon the road-way, the shouts of the men, the shrill voices of the women, all combined to fill the air with unwonted sounds, and brought the family of the administrador early from their beds. As Vicente Gonzales, after shaking hands coldly with Don Rafael, rode awa^'^ at the head of his band, he half turned in his saddle to glance at Dona Isabel's bal- cony. At the rear of the house, a faint glow was begin- ning to steal up the sky and touch the tops of the trees which rose above the garden wall, and tinge with opal the square towers of the church ; he remembered the good Padre Francisco, and piously breathed a prayer for his soul. The drooping rose on the balcony of what he knew to be Doiia Isabel's chamber seemed the very emblem of death and desolation. With a sigh he pulled his hat over his eyes and rode on ; but the General, Joso Ramirez, who had been longer in his adieus, caught sight of Doiia Rita in the corner balcony, leaning over her two half-dressed children. Their two heads were close together, their laugh- ing faces side by side, their four eyes making points of dancing light behind the black bars of the balcony railing. Don Jos(^ Ramirez was in a gentle mood ; a sudden im- pulse seized him to turn his horse and ride close to the building, turning his eyes searchingly upon the children. Both coquettish ly turned their faces away. Rosario cov- ered her eyes with her fingers, glancing <:'oyly through CIIATA AND CHINITA. 99 them j then kissing tlio tips of tlic other hand, oponod tliom liglitly above liiiii in un inmi^iiiury shower of kisses. No goddess could have spiiukied theuj more deftly lluin did this infantine coquette. Ramirez answered tlie salute laughingly, then turned away with a frown on his brow. The slight tlelay had Icl't him behind the troop, amid the dust of the restive horses. Yet he made no haste to escape the inconvenience, but yielding for the moment to some absorbing thought rode slowly. The voice of a child suddenly caused him to arrest his horse with an ungentle hand. lie looked around him with a start, — an object indistinctly seen under a mesqnitc tree caused his heart to bound. The blood left his cheek, he shook in his saddle. His horse, as staitled as he, bounded in the air, and trembled in every limb. A moment later and Jose Ramirez laughed aloud. His name was repeated. "What do you there, child?" he cried ; " thou art a witch, and hast frightened my horse. And by my patron saint," he added in a lower tone, "I was startled myself!" Chinita the foundling came forward calmly, though her skirt was in tatters, and her draggled scarf scarce covered her shoulders ; but there was an air about her as if she had been dressed in imperial robes. •' Ah ! " she said quite calmly, "it is the smell of the blood that has startled your horse ; they say no animal passes here without shying and plunging, since the American was killed ! " Ramirez glanced around him with wild eyes. " Oh, you cannot see him now," cried the child ; *'that happened long ago. No, no, there is nothing here that will hurt 3'ou. Why do you look at me like that? It is not I — a poor little girl — who could injure 3'ou, but men like those," and she pointed to the columns of soldiers whoso baj'onets were gUstening in the rising sun. Her eye seemed to single out Gonzales, though he was beyond her vision. The thought of Ramirez perchanoe followed hers, jet he only sat and stared at her, his eyes fixed, his body shrunken and bowed. " See here," she said slowly, raising herself on tiptoe, and with eager hand drawing something from beneath her clothing, "I have a charm of jet: Pedro put it on my neck when I was a baby. It will ward olf the evil eye. rf V 1 i 1 i'r i 1 *r! :]■) ';! i 'i'tl 1; i 1 1 1 i ) Hh 1 (i 100 C//ArA AMD CIIINITA, Take it ; wear it. An old man gave it to Pedro on Lis deatli-bcU ; he hud been a Huldier, a highwayman ; he had fought many battles, killud many men, yet had never had a wound I Take it ! " 8he took from her neck a tiny bit of jet, hanging from a hempen string, and thrust it into his hand. Uamircz was astounded. He looked upon her as a vision from another world, — he who was accustomed to outbursts of strange eloquence, even from the lips of un- clothed children amid those untutored peasantry. She seemed to him a thing of witchcraft. His eyes fixed themselves on the child's face as if fascinated ; he saw it grimy, vivacious, beautiful but weird, tempting, mysteri- ous. No angel, he felt, had stopped him on his way. He took the charm mechanically, and the child, with a J030US yet mocking laugh, lied away. He roused as from a spell, called after her, tossed the charm into the air, and caught it again, and called once more, but she neither answered nor stopped. He gazed around him once again. A superstitious awe, akin to terror, crept over him ; ho shuddered, thrust the talisman into his belt, and put spurs to his horse. That day, for the most part, he rode alone, and when for a time he joined Gonzales, he was silent ; silent, too, was his companion, and neither one nor the other divined the thoughts of the man who rode at his side. [ro on bis 1 ; he had ever hud a a tiny bit ust it into her as a istomcd to ips of un- itry. She eyes fixed ; be saw it g, uiysteri- I way. He th a joyous om a spell, and caught r answered again. A r him ; bo i, and put , and when silent, too, her divined ie. XV. Years passed. The nine days' feast of the Blessed Virgin, one of the most charming of all the year, was be- ing celebrated wiih unusual pomp in the church at Tres Hermanos. Since the death of Padre Francisco, no priest had boen regularly stationed there ; but at the expense of Dofia Isabel, one had been sent there to remain through the nine days sacred to Mary, and the people gave their whole time to devotional exercises, much to the neglect of the usual hacienda work. The crops in the fields were untended, while the men crowded to Mass in the morning, and spent their afternoons at the tavern-shop playing monte and drinking pulque ; while the women and chil- dren streamed in and out of the church, — the women to witness the offering of flowers upon the altar, the children to lay them there, happy once in the year to be chief in the service of the beautiful Queen of Heaven. For though the image above the altar was blackened by time and defaced by many a scar, the robes were brilliant, and glittered with variously colored jewels of glass ; the crown was untarnished, and the little yellow babe in the mother's arms appealed to the strong maternal sentiment which lies deep in the heart of every Mexican woman. Upon the first day of the feast not one female child of the many who lived withm the hacienda limits was absent from the church ; and they were so many that the proud mothers, who had spent no little of their time and sub- stance m arraying them, were fain to crowd the aisles and doorways, or stand craning their necks without, hoping to catch a glimpse of the high altar, as the crowd surged to and fro, making way for the tinj' representatives of womanhood, who claimed right of entrance from their very powerlessness and innocence. Quaint and ludicrous looked these little creatures, mincing daintily into the church, their wide-spread crinolines expanding skirts 102 CHATA AND CHINITA. V ■ ; 'It n ■ I' i i ll 1 llil: j 1 l:i| !';! 1 lili;! I' il iilNl! i. 1 ■»■ I \ii r;- I ifg. ^^^^Hm i stiffly starcLed, and rustling audibly under brilliant tunics of flowered muslin O" purple and green stuffs. These dresses were an exact imitation in material and stj^le of the gala attire of the mothers. The full skirts swept the ground, and over the curiously embroidered linen chemise which formed the bodice was thrown the ever-present reboso, or scarf of shimmering tints. The well-oiled black locks of these miniature rancheras were drawn back tightly from the low foreheads, — the long, smooth braids fastened and adorned by knots of bright ribbon, and crowned with flowers of domestic manufacture, their glaring hues and fantastic shapes contrasting strangely with the masses of beauty and fragrance that each child clasped to her bosom. In sp'te of its incongruities, a fantastic and pleasant sight was offered ; and Doiia Rita, looking around her with the eye of a devotee, doubted whether any more pleasing could be devised for God or man. Within the sacred walls of her temple at least, the Church of Rome is consistent in declaring that in her eyes hor children are all equal ; and upon that jpring- time afterhoon at Tres Hermanos, among a throng of plebeian children from the village, knelt the daughters of the administrador ; and side by side were Doiia Rita and ii. woman from whose contact, as she met her on the court the day before, she had drawn back her skirt, lest it should be polluted by the mere touch of so foul a creature. Rosario and Chata (as Florentina was so constantly called that her baptismal name was almost unknown) had already laid their wreaths of pink Castillian roses upon the altar, and were demurely telling their beads, when a startling vision passed them. It was Chinita, literally begarlanded with flowers, — w!ld-roses, pale and delicate, long tendrils of jessamine, and masses of faint yellow cups of the cactus, and scarlet v(!rbenas, dusty and coarse, yet offering a dazzling con- trast of color to the snowy pyramid of lily-shaped blos- soms, hacked from the summit cf a palm, which she bore proudly upon one shoulder ; while from the other hung her blue reboso in the guise of a bag filled r-'h ferns and grasses brought from coverts few others knew of. The flowers made a glorious display as they were laid about the CHATA AND CHINITA, 103 ant tunics }. These id style of swept the jn chemise ent reboso, :;k locks of rhtly from stened and wned with ; hues and masses of her bosom, asant sight er with the •e pleasing ) least, the that in her hat upring- t throng of ) daughters Dona Rita her on the her skirt, of so foul constantly unknown) tillian roses their beads, I flowers, — f jessamine, and scarlet azzling eon- shaped blos- lich she bore . other hung = h ferns and ,ew of. The aid about the altar, for there was not room for half upon it. The breath of the fields and woodlands rushed over the church, almost overpowering the smell of the incense, and there were smiles on many faces and wide-eyed glances of admiration and surprise as Chiuita descended to take her place among tlie congregation. Five Mays had come and gone since she had stood un- der the fateful tree, and given the jet amulet to the cava- lier who hud so roused and fascinated her imagination ; but whatever may have been its effect upon its new pos- sessor, its loss had certainly wrought no ill upon Chinita. Though not yet fourteen years of age, she was fast attaining the development of womanhood, and her mind as well as person showed a rare precocity even in that land where the change from childhood to womanhood seems almost instantaneous. But there was no coyness, as there was no assumption of womanly ways in this tall, straight young creature, whose only toil was to carry the water-jar from the fountain to Florencia's hut, perhaps twice in the day, — and who did it sometimes laughingly, sometimes grudgingly as the humor seized her, but alwaj's spilling half the burden with which she left the fountain before she lifted it from her shoulder and set it in the hollow worn in the mud floor of the hut, escaping with a laugh from Florencia's scolding, and hurrying out to her old pursuits, now grown more various, more daring, more perplexing, more vexatious to^ all with whom she came in contact. A thousand times had it been upon the lips of Dona Rita to forbid the entrance in her house of the foundling to distract the minds of Rosario and Chata by her wild pranks ; but aside from the fact that Dofii Rita was of a constitutionally indolent nature, averse e\ en to the use of many words and still more to energetic action, the child was a constant source of interest. She carried into the quiet rooms a sense of freedom and expansion, as though she brought with her the breezes and sunlight in which she delighted to wander. She had too a powerful ally in Dona Feliz, who kept a watchful eye upon her ; and though she never, like her daughter-in-law or the children, made a pet and plaything of the waif, yet she was always the first to notice if she looked less well than usual, or to set Pedro ii» ii' r n;i 104 CffATA AND CHINITA. on his guard if her wanderings were too far afield, or her absences too long. Upon this day as Chinita turned from the altar, while others smiled, a frown contracted the brow of Dofia Feliz, as for the first time perhaps she realized that this gyps}'- like child was in physique a woman. She had chosen to wear a dress of bright green woollen stuff, — far from be- coming to the olive tint of her skin, but by some accident cut to fit the lithe figure which already outlined, though imperfectly, the graces of early womanhood. The short armless jacket was fashioned after the child's own fancy, and opened over a chemise which was a mass of drawn work a'ld embroidery ; her skirts outspread all others, yet the flowing drapery could not wholly conceal the small brown feet which, as the custom was, were stockingless and cased in heelless slippers of some fine black stufl", — more an ornament than a protection. But Chinita's crowning glory were the rows of many-colored worthless glass beads, mingled with strings of corals and dark and irregular pearls, that hung around her neck and festooned the front of her jacket. This dazzling vision, with the inevi- table soiled reboso thrown lightly over one shoulder, came down from the altar and through the aisle of the church, smiling in supreme content, not because of the glorious tribute of flowers she had plucked and oflfered, nor with pride at her own appearance, gorgeous as she believed it to be, but because of the delightful efl!cct she supposed both would leave on her aristocratic playmates ; and much amazed was she as she neared them to see Chata's expressive nose assume an elevation of unapproachable dig- nity, while Rosario's indignation took the form of an aggres- sive pinch, so deftly given that Chinita's shrill interjection seemed as unaccountable as the glory of her apparel. Chinita in some consternation sank on her knees, her green skirt rising in folds around her, reminding Chata irresistibly of a huge butterfly which she had that very morning seen settle upon a verdant pomegranate bush. How she longed to extinguish Chinita's glories as she had done those of the insect, by a cast of her reboso. There was no malice in her thought, though perhaps a trifle of envy, for she too loved brilliant colors. She could not restrain a titter as she thought what Chinita's vexation ing M § i CHATA AND CHINITA, 105 ild, or her itar, while ona FeUz, lis gypsy- chosen to r from be- e accident id, though The short )wn fancy, of drawn others, yet the small ;ockingless )lack stuff, b Chinita's I worthless I dark and I festooned h the inevi- ilder, came ;he church, le glorious i, nor with believed it e supposed lates ; and see Chata's ichable dig- f an aggrcs- intcrjcction parol, knees, her ding Chata \ that very mate bush. ! as she had )so. There 8 a trifle of 3 could not 's vexation would be ; and with a face glowing with anger and eyes filled with reproach, Pedro's foster-child sailed haughtily past the sisters while the untrained choir were singing hymns of rejoicing, with that inimitable undertone of pathos natural in the voices of the Aztecs, and the censers of in- cense were still swinging, and left the church, — longing to rush back and to trample under foot the flowers she had so joyously gathered, longing to tear off the fine clothes and adornments she had so proudly donned. She pushed an- grily past a peasant boy in tattered cotton garments and coarse sombrero of woven grass, who was the slave of her caprices, who had toiled in her Lcrvice all day and upon whom she had smiled when she entered the church, yet whom she now thrust aside in rage as she left it, with a "Out of my way, stupid! What art thou staring at? Thou art like blind Tomas, with his ej'es open all day long, yet seeing nothing." " A pretty one thou," cried the boy, angrily. " Dost suppose I am a rabbit, to care for nothing but green? Bah ! thou art uglier in thy gay skirts than in thy old ones of red-and-white flannel ! " But the girl had not lingered to listen to his taunts. She flew rather than ran to her hut, which on account of the service in the church was deserted. A crowd of rag- ged urchins who had taken up the cry of her flouted swain, followed her, jeering and hooting, to the door which she slammed in their faces. Not that they bore her anj' ill will ; but the sight of Chinita in her fine clothes, ruffling and fluttering like an enraged peacock, was irresistibly exciting to the j'ouths whom her loft}' disdain usuallj' held in the cowed and submissive state of awe-stricken admiration. Chinita, scarcely understanding her own miserable dis- appointment and anger, began to disembarrass herself of her finery, fiinging each article from her with contempt, until she stood in the coarse red white-spotted skirt, with a broad band of light green above the hips, — which formed her ordinary apparel. As she stood panting, two great tears rolling down her cheeks and two others as large hang- ing upon her long, black lashes, she saw the door gently pushed open and before, with an angry exclamation, she could reach it, a li.'tle brown head was thrust in. IOC CHATA AND CHINITA. *' Go away ! " cried Chinita, imperatively. " Tliou hast been told not to come here. Thy mother will have thee whipped, and I shall be glad, and I will laugh ! yes, I will laugh and laugh ! " and she proceeded to do so sardoni- cally on the instant, gazing down with a glance of con- temptuous fury, which for the moment was tragically genuine, upon the little brown countenance lifted to her own somewhat apprehensively, yet with a mischievous daring in the dark eyes that lighted it. Chinita, with a child's freedom and in the forgetfulness of anger, had used the "thou" of equality in addressing her visitor ; yet so natural and irresistible are class dis- tinctions in Mexico, that she held open the door with some deference for the daughter of the administrador to enter, and caught up her scarf to throw over her head and bare shoulders, as was but seemly in the presence of a superior however young. That done, however, they were but two children together, two wilful playmates for the moment at variance. " Now, then ! Be not angry, Chinita ! " laughed Chata, looking around her with great satisfaction. " What good fortune that thou art here alone ! I slipped by the gate when Pedro was busy talking, and Rosario was making my mother and mamagrande to fear dying of laughter by mimicking thee, Chinita ; and so they never missed me when I darted away to seek thee, Sauchica." " And thou hadst better go back," cried Chinita, grimly, more piqued at being the cause of laughter than pleased at Chata's penetration ; for in choosing her green gown she had had in her mind the habit ofgreen cloth sent by the Duchess to Sancho Panza's rustic daughter, and had teased and wheedled Pedro into buying her holiday dress of that color, — because when they were reading the story together Chata had called her Sanchica and herself the Duchess, and for many a day they had acted together such a little comedy as even Cervantes never dreamed of, in which they had seemed to live in quite another world than that actually around them. The tale cC the ' ' Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance " was a strange text-book for children ; yet in it they had contrived to put together the letters learned in the breviary, and with their two heads close bent over the page, the,:^ two, as years passed on, CHATA AND CHINITA. 107 *' Thou hast 11 have thee ! yes, I will so sardoni- ,nce of con- is tragically lifted to her mischievous forgetfulness n addressing ,re class dis- le door with linistrador to vrer her head 3 presence of owever, they )laymates for iighed Chata, "What good by the gate was making y of laughter rer missed me a." linita, grimly, than pleased f green gown oth sent by the md had teased iday dress of iing the story ad herself the acted together sr dreamed of, another world >i* the " Knight ;e text-book for it together the leir two heads irs passed on, had spelled out first the story, then later an inkling of the wit, the fancy, the philosophy which lay deep between the two leathern covers that inclosed the entire secular litera- ture that the house of Don Rafael afforded. There were, indeed, shelves of quaint volumes in the darkened rooms into which Chata sometimes peeped when Dona Feliz left a door ajar ; but so great was her awe that she would not have disturbed an atom of dust, and scarce dared to breathe lest the deep stillness of those dusky rooms should be broken by ghostly voices. But Chinita, less scrupulous, had more than once, quite unsuspected, passed what were to her delightful though grewsome hours in those echoing shades, and with the bare data of a few names had repeopled them in imagination with those long dead and gone, as well as with the figure of that stately Dona Isabel, who still lived in some far-off" city, — mourn- ing rebelliously, it was whispered, over the beautiful daughter shut from her sight by the walls of a convent, yet who with seemingly pitiless indifference had consigned the equally beautiful younger Carmen to a loveless mar- riage ; for the latter had married an elderly widower, and who could believe it might be from choice? Chinita heard perhaps more of these things than any one, for she was free to run in and out of every hut, as well as the house of the administrador ; and with her quick intelli- gence, her lively imagination, and that faculty which with one drop of Indian blood seems to pervade the entire being, — the faculty of astute and silent assimilation of every glance and hint, — she was in her apparent ignor- ance and childishness storing thoughts and preparing deductions, which lay as deep from any human eye as the volcanic fires that in the depths of some vine-clad mountain may at any moment burst forth, to amaze and terrify and overwhelm. But Chinita was brooding over no secret thoughts as she began to smile, though unwillingly and half wrathfull3% as Chata eagerly declared how well the green dress had transformed her into a veritable Sanchica, and how stupid she herself had been not to guess from the first what her clever playmate had meant ; then she laughed again as she thought of the billowy green in which Chinita had knelt, and the half-appeased masquerader was vexed anew, and i 108 CHATA AND CfflNITA. pit m v M iiilli^ sat sullenly on tho edge of the adobe shelf that served as a bedstead, and tu^^ged vicicnsly at the knots of ribbon in tho rebellious hair wliich she had vainly striven >,o confine in seemly tresses. She shook back the wild locks, which once free sprang into a thousand rings and tendrils, and looking at Chata irefuUy from between them, exclaimed, — " You laugh at me always ! You are a baby ; you read in the book, and yet you know nothing. If I were rich like you, I would not be silent and puny and weak as you are. I would be strong and beautiful, and a woman as Kosario is ; and I would know everything, — yes, as much as the Padre Comacho, and more ; and I would be great and proud, as they say the Seiiora Dona Isabel is ! " "But," cried Chata, flushing with astonishment and some aii^er, " how can I be beautiful and strong and like a grown woman at will ? My grandmother says it is well I am still a child, while Rosario is almost a woman ; and I do not mind being little, no, nor even that my nose turns back to run away, as you say, from my mouth every time I open it ; but it is growing more courageous, I know,'* — and she gave the doubtful member an encouraging pull. " I do not mind all this in the least, while my father and my grandmother love me ; but my mother and you and every one else look onl}' at Rosario, and talk only of her — "and her lip trembled. " But do I talk to Rosario ? " asked Chinita, much molli- fied. "Do I ever tell her my dreams, and all the fine things I see and hear, when I wander off in the fields and by the river, and up into the dark canons of the hills? And," she added in an eager whisper, " shall I ever tell her about the American's ghost when I see him?" " Bah ! 3'ou will never see him," ejaculated Chata, con- temptuously, though she glanced over her shoulder with a sudden start. "There is no such thing. I asked my grandnothor about it j'csterday, and she saj^s it is all wicked nonsense. There could have been no American to be murdered, for she remembers nothing about it." "Oh!" ejaculated Chinita, significantly, and she laughed. " Then it is no use for me to tell you where he is buried. If there was no Arr ericanj he could not have a grave." % ? 1 I ;'i (( ''I' CIIATA AND CHINITA. 109 " But I sha' n't well go home. "No! patience, " Yet you have found it ! " cried Chata, in intense excitement, for the story, more or less veracious, that had often been told her of the murder of the American years before, and the return of his ghost from time to time to haunt the spot accursed by his unavenged blood, had taken a strong hold upon her imagination. " Oh, Chinita ! did you go, as you said you would, among the graves on the hillside? Did you go?" " Why, yes, I did go," answered Chinita, slowly, wind- ing her arms around her knees, as she leaned from her high perch, her brown face almost touching that of the smaller child, who still stood before her. tell yju anything more, so you may as Ah, I think I hear them calling you," and she straightened herself up as if to listen. no ! no ! " cried Chata in an agon}- of im- " I will not go till you tell me. I will know ! Oh, Chinita, if I were but like j'ou, and could run about at will, over the fields and up the hills ! " The tears rose to her ryes as she spoke, — poor little captive, in her stolen moment of liberty feeling in her soul the iron of bondage to custom or necessity. "Well, then," said Chinita, deliberately, prolonging the impatience of her supplicant, while the tears in the dark gra^' eyes lifted to her own moved her, " I went through the cornfield. I drove Pep6 back when he wanted to go with me. Oh, how afraid that big boy is of me ! Yes, I went through the corn, — oh, it is so high, so high, I thought it was the very wood where Don Quixote and Sancho Panza met the robbers ; but I was not afraid. And then I came to the beanfield, and oh, nma ! I meant to go again this very day, and bring an armful of the sweet blossoms to Our Lady, and 1 forgot it ! " clasping her hands penitently. " And well for thee that thou didst," exclaimed Chata, "or a pretty rating my father would have given tuee! lie says it is enough to make the Blessed Virgm vexed for a year to sec the good food-blossoms wasted, when there are millions of flowers God only meant for her and the bees. But, Chinita, I would I were a bee, to make thee cry as I wish ! Thou art slower than ever to-day. Tell me, tell mc, what didst thou next?" '''llfT ■1! " ' 110 CHATA AND CHINITA. ; I'lii 111, ' il • (I 'i !i;l: ! ill ! li I Mi- 1 I li i i'l i ■ ■* 1 Lli "Well, did I not tell you I came to the beanfield, — what should I do but go through it?" remonstrated Chinita ;" and then I walked under the willows. Ah, if you could only once walk under the' willows, wtwa! it is like heaven in the green shade b}' the clear water, and there are great brakes of rushes, with the birds skimming over thom. I saw among them a stork standing on one leg, and he had in his mouth a little striped snake, yellow and scarlet and black, which so wriggled and twisted ! Ah, and I saw, besides, little fish in the shallow water, and—" Chata sighed. She had unconsciously sunk upon the mud floor ; her eyes opened wide, as if in imagination she saw all those things of which, though she was set in the very heart of Nature, her bodily e3'es had caught no glimpse. How in her heart of hearts the sheltered, cloisttred daugh- ter of the admiuistrador envied the wild fo er-child of the gate-keeper, who was so free, and from whom the woods and fields could keep no secrets ! " Go on i " she whis- pered, and Chinita said, in a sort of recitative, — " Yes, I went on and on, not very long by the water's edge, though I loved it, but up the little path through the stones and the thorny cacti. Oh, but they were full of yellow blossoms, and they amelled so sweet ; but they were full of prickles too, and as I went up the steep hillside they caught my reboso every minute, and when I stood among the graves my hands were tingling and smarting, and I was half blind and stumbling. I was so tired, oh, so tired ! and I sat down and rubbed my hands in the sand. It was very still there ; it seemed to me that a little wind was always singing, but perhaps it was the dry grass rust- ling ; but as I bent down to listen, I fell asleep, and when I woke up the sun was no higher in the sk}' than the width of my hana, and I had no time to look for anything." "Ah, stupid creature ! " cried Chata, after a moment's silent disappointment " Why did you not tell me so be- fore? I must be missed. ^ shall be scolded," and in a sudden panic she rose to her feet and turned to the door. " Stay ! stay ! " cried Chinita, eager to give hor news, as she saw Chata about to fl}'. " Tliough 1 did not look, I found clear ! something. Oh, yes, in black letters, so big and hei th.i coi CI/ATA AND CHINITA. Ill beanfield, — remonstrated lows. Ah, if J, nina ! it is r water, and •ds skimming iding on one snake, yellow and twisted! hallow water, unk upon the laginatiou she vas set in the ;ht no glimpse, isttred daugh- ?r-child of the oin the woods n i " she whis- k-e, — by the waters th through the ly were full of but they were s steep hillside when I stood and smarting, so tired, oh, so ds in the sand, at a little wind dry grass rust- lecp, and when than the width anything." ter a moment's t tell me so be- Ided," and in a id to the door, ivc hor news, as did not look, I Brs, so big and •i Chata returned precipitately. " Letters — what letters ? " she cried. " Big black letters, J and U and A and N ; and the letters for the American name — how do they say it? Ash — Yes, Ashley — it is not hard — and that he was ' born in the United States, and murdered here in May, — yes, I forget the figures, but I counted up ; it was just lb .rtecn years ago, upon the 13th of this very month. It was all written out upon a little wooden cross, wliich had fallen face down upon the grave I fell asleep upon. 1 might have looked for it a hundred years and not have found it, but I had scraped away the sand from it to rub my hands. It is thick and heavy ; I could scarcely turn it over to read the words, — but they are there. You may tell Dona Feliz there was an American." " No, I shall say nothing," said Chata, dreamily. " She likes not to hear of murder or of ghosts. Ah, the poor American ! why does his spirit stay here ? This is not purgatory. Ah, can it be he cannot rest because he died upon the 13th? — the unlucky number, my mother says." " Let us make it luck}'," said Chinita, daringly. " Let us say thirteen Aves and thirteen Pater Nosters for his "^^lil." But Chata shook her head doubtfully, and started violently as a servant maid, grimy and ragged like all her clan, and panting with haste, thrust open the door, exclaiming, — " Nina of my soul, 3'our lady mother declares you are dead. Dona Feliz has searched all the house, and is wringing her hands with grief. Don Rafael has seized Pedro by the collar, and is mad with rage because he swears j'ou have not passed the gate ; and here I find you, with your white frock all stained with dirt, and that beggar brat filling your ears with her mad tales. The Saints defend us ! Sometime the witch will fly off — as she came — no one knows where. But you, mwa, come, come awaj' ! " and the excited woman dragged the truant reluctantly away ; while Chinita, thrusting her tongue into her check, received the epithets of "beggar brat" and " witch " with a contempt which the gesture only, rather than any words, fluent as she was in plebeian repartee, could at that moment adequately express. XVI. m III : i :!! 1 lil ■ i' I ! •I n ! 1 Tnouon Cliinita as was usual was made the scapegoat for Cliata's fault, — Doila Rita averring that the girl pos- sessed an irresistible power for evil over her own innocent children, — Chata on this occasion felt herself most heavily punished, for Don Rafael strengthened his wife's fiat against the dangerous temptress, the gate-keeper's child, by absolutely prohibiting her entrance to his house. Chata wept for her playmate, and for manj' days Rosario moped and sulked ; while Chinita hung disconsolate — as the Peri at the gate of Paradise — about the entrance to the court, finding small solace in the young fawn Pepu had given her, though she twined her arms around it and held its head against her bosom, that its large pensive eyes might seem to join in the appeal of her own. And perhaps the two aided by time and Chata's grief might have conquered ; but there was a sudden interruption of the quiet course of life at Tres Hermanos. One day Chinita found the whole house open to her; there was no one there either to welcome or repulse her save Dona Feliz. Don Rafael, with his wife and children, had obeyed a sudden call, and had hastened to the dying bed of Dofia Rita's mother. For the first time in her life Chata had left the hacienda. Rosario had twice before gone with her mother to visit relatives, but for various reasons Chata had remained at home. Dona Rita seemed half inclined to leave her at this time also ; but Don Rafael cut the matter short by ordering her few necessaries to be packed, and in a flutter of excitement, perhaps heightened by the frown upon her mother's face, Chata took her seat in the carriage that was to bear her far beyond the circle of hills which had heretofore bounded her vision. What a pall seemed to fall upon the place when they were all gone ! First, a great stillness pervaded the court and corridors where the children's voices were wont to CJIATA AND CIIINITA. 113 \\\\% ; aiul then hollow, {ghostly noiaus woko tlio echoes. A second court was now opened which lonr than that he should be linked with Ramirez. If Vincentc is a traitor, it is at least with a noble aim, not for mere plunder. There was something strange, forbidding, ter- rible, about that man Ramirez. Did you notice his face, Tedro, when he was here?" Pedro shook his head, returning with pertinacity to his own plans. " You will talk to Don Rafael for me, will you not, Senora?" he said, with a trace of the abject whine in his tone thr.t marked the habit of serfdom, which a few years of nominal freedom had done little to alter, " and with your good leave I will go, and take Chinita with me." He spoke hesitatingly, as though fearful his right would be disputed. "' Take Chinita !" exclaimed Dona Feliz. "What, to a soldiers' camp, to her ruin ! You are mad, Pedro. No, she shall remain here with me. I will take her into the house. I will teach her io sew. She shall be my child rather than m}' servant! I — " she stopped in extreme agitation, for within the doorwaj'^ the child stood. " I will be no one's servant ! " she said, proudly draw- ing herself up ; " and as to going to the Indian's camp — • ah, I know a better place than that," and she nodded her head significantly. "You shall leave me, Father Pedro, with your Dona Isabel ! " Dofia Feliz and Pedro started as if they had been shot, " I came to tell you she is coming," continued the child. " I was out beyond the granaries, letting my fawn browse c .1 the little hill, and as I was looking toward the r;orgc I saw a horseman coming, and far beliind him was a car- riage and many men. Is all ready?" and she glanced around her with the air of a prophetess. "Hark! the courier is in the court now. Doiia Isabel will not be long behind him." Pedro hastened from tlie room with an exclamation of alarmed amazement. " Go, go ! " cried Feliz. *' You are too late ! " for she knew in her heart that it was in very fear of this visit, and to remove the child from the chance 118 CHATA AND CHINITA. 'Ill !-i. I II! : 1-;!: of encountering Dona Isabel, that Pedro had proposed to leave the hacienda ; and here was Dona Isabel her- sell", — for stranf^ely enough, neither of them dinibted that wliat tlie cliild had assmned was true. The tlionghts of Dona Feliz were inexplicable even to herself. She felt as though she was placed in some vast and gloom}' theatre, with the curtain about to rise upon some strange play, which at the will of the actors might become cither comedy or tragedy. Though of late she had felt certain that Dona Isabel would return to the hacienda, that very act seemed dramatic, the precursor of inevitable complications. " Why could she not be content in the new life she had chosen?" muttered Doiia Feliz. "What voice has been sounding in her ears, to call her back to resurrect old griefs, to walk among the spectres of long-silent agonies and shame? Foolish, foolish woman! Yet as the mag- net attracts iron, so thy hard heart is drawn by these bitter remembrances. Go, go ! thou child ! " she ex- claimed aloud, and almost angrily. " Dona Isabel would be vexed to see thee in her room. Go, and keep thee out of her way ! " She gazed after Chinita with a look of perpkixity and pain, as with a bound of irresistible excite- ment the girl sprang out upon the corridor, her laugh rising still air as if in notes of defiance. "What I? " muttered Doiia F'eliz. " ' Leave me with Isabel'?" through the \ ■ 10 [Iji; i I proposed [sabcl her- nibtcd that thoughts of She felt as ny theatre, angc play, iier comedy I that Dona act seemed ions. life she had c has been isurrcct t)ld ent agonies IS the mag- m by these !" she ex- [sabel would eep thee out h a look of stible excite- laugh rising ic. "What :avc me with XVII. From the city of Guanapila to the hacienda of Trcs Hcr- manos the road runs almost continually through mountain defiles, where on either hand the great masses of bare rocks rise so precipitously that it seems impossible that man or beast should scale them ; and here, where Nature's aspect is most terrible, man is least to be feared. But there are intervals where broad tlat ledges hang above the roadway, or where it crosses plateaus shaded by scrub- oak or mesquite and even grass}- dells, where after the rams water may be found, offering charming camping- grounds during the noon-tide heat ; and precisely at such places the anxious traveller has need to look to his wea- pons, and picket his horses and mules in such order that no sudden attack may cause a stampede among them, and that they ma}'^, if need offer, form a barricade for their defenders. In those lawless times few persons ventured forth without a military escort, and if possible sought ad- ditional security by accompanying the baggage trains which by arrangement with the party for the moment in power enjoyed immunity from attack b}' roving bands of soldiery, and were too formidabl to be successfully as- sailed by the ordinary cliques of highwaymen. Seldom indeed was there found a person so reckless as to venture forth attended only by the escort his own house afforded ; and daring indeed was the woman who would undertake a two clays' journey in such a manner. The least she might expect would be to find her protectors disper^od, perhaps slain, and herself a captive, — held for an ex . -bitant ran- som, and subjected to the liardshi[)s of life in the remote recesses of the mountains, and to indignities the very report of which might daunt the most reckless or the bravest. Yet in spite of all this, a carriage containing a lady and her maid — for such were their relative positions: though liiil 120 en ATA AND CHINITA. W m i i % L lif'' It'll iili. i i I lit: I iili. l^iil both were alike dressed in plain black gowns and the common blue reboso — entered in the early afternoon of a summer's day the narrow gorge that led by circuitous windings tln'ougli the rocks to the great gorge that ibrmetl the entrance to the wide valley of Tres llcrnianos, whose entire extent otl'ered to the eye the wondrous fruitfulness so rich and varied in itself, so startling in contrast to the desolation passed to reach it. The midday halt had been a short one, for it was the rainy season, and progress was necessarily slow over the swollen watercourses and the obstructions of accumulated sands and pebbles, the masses of cactus and branches of trees and shrubs, which had been brought down by recent storms. At times it seemed impossible that the carriage, although drawn by four stout mules, could proceed, and from time to time the servant looked anxiously through the window. But the mistress was equal to all emergen- cies, herself giving directions to the per[)lexed driver and his assistant, and though she had been travelling for more than two da3s over a road usually easily passed in one, allowing no sign or word of weariness or impatience to escape her. But this carriage and its occupants would have appeared to a passer- by the least important factor in the caravan of which it formed a part ; for it was encircled and almost concealed by a band of mounted men, clad in suits of brownish leather, glimpses of the red waist-band glisten- ing with knives and pistols showing from beneath their striped blankets, long knives and lassos hanging at their saddle-bows, rifles in their sinewy right hands, while from beneath their wide hats their keen eyes investigated sharply every jutting rock and peered into the distance with an air of half-defiant, half-fearful expectancy, — for these were men taken from her own estate, who idle retainers as they had been in her great bare house in the cit}"^ where Dofia Isabel Garcia had lived for years in melancholy state, thrilled with clannish fidelity to their mistress and passionate love for their tierra to which they were return- ing, and with that vague delight in the possibility of :i fight which arouses in man both chivalrous and brutish daring, as the smell of blood arouses the love of slaughter in the tamest beast. i'K'M CIIATA AND CIIINITA. 121 5vns and the Ftcrnoon of a jy circuitous 3 that Ibnned uanos, wliosc s fruitfulness )ntrast to tlvo or it was the low over tlic accumulated d brtinchea of [)wn by recent , tlic carriage, proceed, and iously through ) all cmergen- icd driver and travelling for isily passed in J or impatience • have appeared the caravan of ied and almost lad in suits of it-band glistcn- 1 beneath their langing at their nds, while from stigated sharply ance with an air - for these were He retainers as 1 the city where \ in melancholy iir mistress and iiey were return - possibility of n ous and brutish love of slaughtci- In front of these rode the conductor of the party clad in a haif-niilitary fashion, as became the character he had earned for eccentric daring, the reputation of which per- haps more than actual braver}' made liim eminently suc- cessful in guiding safely the party wise or rich enough to secure his escort. This man was known as Tio Keyes, tliough his ai)pearancc did not justify the honorar}' title of Uncle, for he was still in the prime of life ; but it was applied to him in tones of jesting 3'et affectionate respect by his followers who had joined the part}- with him, and adopted by the ethers to whom he was a stranger, — for at the last moment he had appeared just as they were leav- ing Guanapila, and with a brief word to the mistress, to which in much surprise and some annoyance she had agreed, bad placed himself at their head. In the rear of those we have described came four or five mules laden with provisions, necessaries for camping, and some private baggage ; these were driven by arrieros who ran at their sides, for the travelling pace of horses did not exceed that of those trained runners. The journey, wearisome as it had proved, had so far been made without alarms, and upon nearing the boundaries of Tres Hermanos much of the anxiety though none of the vigilance of he escort subsided ; when suddenly upon the glaring sunshine of the day, all the hotter and clearer from the recent rains, rose in the distance a sort of mist, which filled the narrow road and blurred the outline of the tower- ing rocks. The guide paused for a moment and glanced back at the escort. Each hand grasped tighter the ready rifle ; at a woi'd the carriage was stopped, the baggage mules were driven up and enclosed within the square hastily formed by the armed men, — for upon that clear day, after tlie rains, the tramp of many feet was requisite to raise that cloud of dust, and these precautions were but pru- dent, whether the advancing troop were friends or foes. Tio Re3-es, after disposing his force to his satisfaction, rode forward with his lieutenant to meet the advancing host, which in those few moments seemed to fill the entire range of vision, though at first with confusing indistinct- ness, as did the sounds that came echoing from rock to rock. The cries of men rose hoarsely above a deep and rumbling undertone, which resolved itself at last into the *f.?-it! 122 CI/ATA AND CHINITA. V^'^ |,'.||. f' '' !' '' (ii, Ii! ('I lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep, — harmless and terrified wayfarers, but driven and preceded by a trooi) of undisciplined soldiery, ripe for deeds more tragic than the plunder of vaqueros and shepherds, vvlio would be more likely wisely to seek shelter in the crevices of the rocks than to def}'^ numbers before whom they were helpless. ''Soilora of my soul!" cried the servant, catching a word from one of the men, "we are lost! Virgin of Succors, pray for us ! These are some of the men of his Excellency the Governor, and you know they stop at nothing. Ah, what a chance to gain mone}' is this ! Once in the mountains what may they not demand for you? Ave 3faria Sanctissima ! Ah, Seiiora, if you would but have listened to the Seiiorita ! to me ! " " Silence I" said the lady, in a tone as of one unused to hear her actions commented upon. " Silence ! thou wilt be safe. If we are captured, thou wilt not be a prize worth retaining ; it will be easy to induce them to take thee to Guanapila, and obtain a reward from my cousin, Don Hernando." " No, no ! " cried the woman, brought to her senses b}^ this quiet scorn and the startling proposition of her mis- tress. " Could I leave your grace ? No, no ! imprison- ment, starvation, even to be made the wife of one of those bandits ! " and a faint smile curled the damsel's lip, for she was not \xg\y, and knew something of the gallan- tries of Ramirez's followers, — " anything rather than de- sert my lady! Ay, my Ufe ! whom have we here?" It was Tio Reyes undoubtedly, and with him was a military stranger, a gallant young fellow, and handsome, though his hands and face were covered with dust, and something like a large blood-stain defaced the breast of his blue coat, " Pardon, Seiiora," he exclaimed, bowing most obsequiously and removing his wide hat, disclosing a young and vivacious countenance, "I am Rodrigo Alva, your servant, who kisses your feet, captain of this troop of horse, of the forces of his Excellency Don Jos6 Ramirez, Governor of Guanapila." " And I am the Seiiora Dona Isabel Garcia de Garcia," responded the lady, with dignified recognition of the young man's courteous self-introduction; "and as I am unaware of any cause for detention, 1 beg to be permitted to pro- ■.m\ *.a C II ATA AND CiriNITA. 123 given coed tow.ird my hacienda, which I desire to rcucli before night closes in." '' It is not ray desire to molest ladies," said the captain, gallantly ; " and 1 have besides received exi)ress orders to defend your passage and facilitate it in every way." "1 have no acquaintance witli Seiior Ramirez," said Dona Isabel in suri)rise ; " yet more than once have 1 been indebted to his courtesy," and she glanced at Tio Reyes. '' lie it was who sent me this worthy guide. I know not wh^' the Seiior Ramirez takes such interest in my personal safety, especially as we are politically oi)posed ; " and she added with a daring which had somewhat of girlish archness, strange from tlie lips of Doiia Isabel, "he has not the name of a man to gallantries." *'No, rather to gallant deeds," said the young captain, his voice accentuating the distinction. " 13ut 3'ou, Dona Isabel, like us who serve him, must be content not to inquire too closely into his motixiS." " Whatever they may be," retorted she, in a voice of displeasure, " they are not such as will spare my flocks and herds ; " and she frowned as a stray ox, upon whose flank she recognized the well-known brand of Tres Iler- manos, bounded b}' the carriage, from which the escort had gradually withdrawn, and were now exchanging amicable salutations with the more advanced of the host which the}' would have been equally pleased to fight. The 3"oung man bowed in some confusion. " The men must be fed," l)e said. " These come from the ranchito del Refugio, Senora, and I regret to say the huts arc burned down and the shepherds and vaqucros scattered ; one poor fellow was killed in pure wantonness." " And you dare tell me this ! " cried Doiia Isabel, in violent indignation, which for the moii. 3nt overcame her wonted calmness. " It was but to explain," interrupted Captain Alva, " that we encountered the famous Calvo there. He has succeeded in raising three hundred men or more to march to the assistance of the double-dyed traitor Juarez. Fortunately, but a portion of his troops were with him ; the rest have joined Gonzales, — so our work was easy, though the fellows fought well. Three or four were killed, m I ;; 'i~: I'J Ml '') \l m I i 124 CIIATA AND CllINITA. a few wounded, the rest lied to the mountains, and we succeeded in securing tlie cattle and sheep ; and I hope your grace will be consoled in knowing they are destined to feed good patriots." Dona Isabel waA'ed her hand impatiently. " What matter a few ai.imals?" she said. " lUit the poor shep- herds, — they must be looked to. And the wounded — what of them?" " (7am CHAT A A A'/) CIIINITA. of tho bitter dotoHtatioii with which she had lookc'd upon Ashley's ileud I'mH!. hofijv Isjibi'l stsirti'd ; the thonnd followed by a clerk and ser- vants galloped away to give meet welcoinc to the lad}' who had just entered upon her own domains. Calling the maids, Dona Feliz caused the long-disused beds to be spread with fresh linen, and completed the pre- parations for this vaguely yet confidently expected arrival. " She had felt it in tin; air," she said to herself, for she knew nothing of any theor}^ of second sight, nor had even- reasoned, on the other hand, that even the most trivial circumstances of life must work toward some given re- sult, which they instinctively foreshadow to the observant, as the bodily eye makes out the rellcction of a material object in a dinnned and b(!smir('lied mirror. She bestirred herself as if in a dream, her mind lull of Dona Isabel and fill 128 ClIATA AND CniNITA, V\i JM, ii' Jm' «■■ ii I II 'Ii ii i||i* ill ii in! ill I!" II the ptist. Yet like nn undorcurrcnt bonoath the Hood of hor tlioufifbtp llowod the icUjti of the new element that Dofia Isabel was hiiiij^iiijj; with her. " K foreigner ! " slie muttered, as if slie could scarce believe her wortls. " Can it be possible that the hand once stung can dally again with the seor[)ion? Ah, no! necessity wears tlie guise of heresy, but it Ib not possible that Douu Isabel can forget." She glanced around her ; Chinita had disappeared. Dofia Feliz saw her no more until the long-delayed car- riage rolled into the court, when she descended to greet Jier mistress. The long summer's day had almost waned, and so dark was the court that torches of pitch-pine had been stuck into rude sconces against the pillars, and the face of Dona Isabel looked wan and ghastly in the lurid and flickering glare. She could not descend from the carriage until the wounded youth had been lifted out. Dona Feliz had never seen but one man so fair. She started as her e3'es fell upon the yellow masses of hair that lay disordered upon his brow, but pointed to a chamber which a woman ran to open, and into which the stranger was carried : while Dona Isabi 1, crajuped and stilF, leaned upon the arm of Don Kafael. and stepped to the ground. As she did so slie would have fallen but for two strong young hands which caught hers, and as she involuntarily held them and steadied herself she turned her eyes upon the face which was level with her own. Her eyes opened widely, and with an exclamation of actual horror she threw Chinita from her with a sudden and violent struggle, and passed proudly though tremblingly- across the court. Don Rafael and Dona Feliz followed, too astounded to make one movement to assist their lads's ascent of tiie stairs : but when the}' reached the corridor and heard the door of the bed-chamber heavily closed, thc}'^ turned toward each other, their faces pale in the twilight. " Her thoughts are serpents to lash her," murmured Dona Feliz ; adding with a sort of national pride, " The Castiilian woman may choose to ignore, but she can never forget or forgive." Don Rafael shrugged his shoulders. How nmch with some races a shrug may signity ! His then was one of dogged resolution. "It is well," it seemed to say; and CHATA AND ClflNITA. 129 ho muttered, " As the mistress loads, the servant must follow," while his mother, shaking her head doubtfully, pointed to the court below. Chinita had rushed furiously away from the carriage and the group of men, who after the first silence of Hur- prisc had broken into but half-suppressed laughter, which was soon lost in the babel of greetings that the disappear- ance of Dofta Isabel gave an opportunity for exchanging, and scarcely knowing in her blind rage where she wont, had thrown herself upon one of the stone scats that bordered the fountain, and with her small clin(!//cd fist was beating the rugged stone. I*edro stood near Uer, his face as indignant as her own, vainly endeavoring with a voice that shook with anger to soothe her wounded pride, while with one hand he strove to lead her away. She spoke not a word. Suddenly, as the young face o^ the girl was lifted to the light, Feliz clasped her ha'.ds to- gether, and leaned eagerly forward. She motioned to Don Rafael, — she would not break the spell b> speech ; but unheeding her he left the corridor and walked away, and presently Pedro was obliged to hasten to his duties at the doorway, and the girl and the woman were left alone in the enclosure. Dona Feliz leaned motionless over the railing. Chinita, still beating the stone with her fist, sat upon the edge of the fountain. With her native instinct of propriety, to meet Dona Isabel she had put on her second best skirt — not the green one — and all her neck- laces circled her throat. Her hair was closely braided, but curled wilfully round her brow and the nape of her neck. She pulled at it abstractedly in a manner she had when excited. Her face was turned aside, but to Dona Feliz there was something strangely familiar in her attitude, — something which suggested other personalities, but of whom ; which recalled the past, but how ? While Chinita still sat there. Dona Isabel came out of her chamber and crossed to the side of Feliz. Her face quivered as her eyes fell on the child, and she laid her nervous white hand upon Fcliz's arm. The two women looked at each other, but said not a word ; the eyes of the one were full of reproach, those of the other of defiant distrust. When they turned them upon the court again, the girl had moved noiselessly away. Her passion of 1' *.-f tirm if; I •K.. ■ m Pk i r f 1' 1 • : II ''1 i ii i 1 ' 't, ■ IK 1 W ' ' ''! 1; lil' !; i 130 CHATA AND CHINITA. \\i anger was spent, and with the instinct of the Indian strain in her mixed blood, she had gone to hide herself away in some sheltered corner and brood sullenly upon her wrongs. As she passed through the many courts, reaching at last that upon which the church opened, she Tvas so ab- sorbed that she did not notice she was closely followed by a man who had been very near when Dona Isabel had repulsed her, and who with a few apparently care- less questions had possessed himself of all there was to know of Chinita's history. " Look you ! " said one, " did not Pedro say that a man as black as the devil dropped her into his hands? Who knows but she is the fiend's own child? Yaya^ she struck me over the face with talons like a cat's only last week." "And well thou deservedst it," cried the boy called Pepe. But he was laughed down by a shrill majority, for Dona Isabel's unaccountable repulse of her had turned the tide of public opinion strongly against the foundling ; and the woman toward whom Tio Reyes — for he it was — now turned for additional particulars, rightly judging that in such matters female memories would prove most explicit, crossed herself as she opined " that the fox knows much, but more he who traps him, and that Pedro who had found the girl could best tell whence she came," — a say- ing which elicited many nods and exclamations of appro- val, for Pedro had never been believed quite honest in the matter. A wild story that he had received the babe from the hands of a beautiful and pallid spectre which had once been seen to speak with him in the corridor, and that this was the ghost of some lovelj'^ woman he had murdered in those early days when he and Don Leon were comrades in many a wild adventure, had passed into a sort of legend, which if not entirely accepted, certainly was not utterly disbelieved by any one. " Go thy way ! She is the devil's own brat," cried the wife of the man Chinita had once attacked. " Ay, to be sure ! " cried another ; " was it not to be remembered how she had struggled and screamed when the good Father Francisco baptized her, and had sputtered and spat out the salt which the good priest had put in CHATA AND CHINITA. 131 it," cried the her mouth like a very cat. And little good had it done her, for she had never been called by a Christian name." "Tut! tut!" said the new-comer, "what need of a name has such a pretty maid as that, or of a father or mother either ? Though ye women have no mercy, she '11 laugh at you all yet. The lads will not be blind, eh Pancho?" "That they will not! " cried the lad Pep^, throwing a meaning glance at Pancho as if daring him to take up the cudgels in behalf of his old playfellow. "What care I who she is ? She 's not the first who came into the world by a crooked road ; and must al) the women hint that it began at the Devil's door because 3y can't trace it back ? Ay, they know enough ways to the same place." "Well said, young friend!" cried Tio Reyes with a hearty slap on the boy's shoulder. "But, hist ! here comes Pedro — with an ill look too in his eye. Ah ! I thought so," as the men suddenly became noisily bus}' with the un- saddling of their horses, and the women slipped away to their household occupations. " Tio Pedro is not a man to be trifled with. But, ah, there goes the girl ! " and in a moment of confusion he adroitly left the court with- out being seen, and as has been said followed her steps till, as she crouched behind one of the buttresses of the church, he halted behind another and looked at her keenly, impatient with the uncertain light, eager to approach her before it darkened, yet waiting stoically until she was settled in a sullen crouching attitude, probably for that vigil of silence and hunger in which a ranchero's anger usually expends itself, or crystallizes into a revengeful memory. After some minutes, during which the girl neither sobbed nor moved, he suddenly bent over and touched her on the shouldei. She was accustomed to such intru- sions, and shook herself sullenly, not even looking up when an unknown voice accosted her. "Hist, thou! I have something for thee." " I want nothing, not manna from Heaven even." "'Twill prove better than that." "Then keep it thyself. Thou 'rt a stranger. I take neither a blow from a woman nor a gift from a man." " Ah ! " said the man, coming a little nearer and laying M i 132 en ATA AND CIIINITA. i I llli r !!l III*!'!, rv' a hand lightly on her shoulder, " if thou wilt have no gift, shall 1 tell thee something?" The girl shrugged her shoulder uneasily under his hand. " I am not a baby to care for tales," she said contempt- uously ; yet the man noticed she turned her head slightly toward him. ' ' Thou art one of a thousand ! " he ejaculated admir- ingl3\ " Iley now, proud one, suppose I should tell thee who thou art, — what wouldst thou give Tio Reyes for that?" " Bah ! " said the girl, " I have never thought about it." Yet she was conscious that her heart began to beat wildly and her voice sounded faint in her ears. A little picture formed itself before her eyes, of Pepo and Marta and Ranulfo and a score of others, waifs of humanity, and she herself on a height looking down upon them. She had never consciously separated herself from them, — she had never even wished that she, like Uiem, had at least a mother ; but presently she was coniscious of a new feeling. Yet she laughed as she said, " X was born then like other chikh-en, — I had a mother? " " That had you ; but I am not going to sing all that 's in the book, nina. The wise man talks little and the pru- dent woman asks few questions, and thus fewer lies are spoken." "But thou art not my father?" queried Chinita, inso- lently, yielding to a sudden apprehension that seized her, and turning full upon the stranger. "God deliver me!" answered he; "badly fared the owl that nourished the young eaglet." " Tell me who I am ! " cried Chinita, in a sudden pas- sion of eagerness clutching the man's arm. "Tut! tut! tut! that is not my business; and as you will not hear my pretty little tale," — for Chinita thrust him violently aside, — "I will give you but one word of warning and be gone : the old hind pushes at the young fawn, but they both make venison." Chinita was accustomed to the obscure phraseology and sj'mbolical meanings of ihe thousand proverbs used by her country people, and she instantly caught the idea the speaker sought to convey ; but its very audacity held her silent for some moments. It was only after she had gazed CIIATA AND CHINITA. 133 lit have no or his hand. 1 contcmpt- ead shghtly latcd admir- uld tell theo o Heyes for rht about it." o beat wildly little picture \ Marta and mity, and she iin. She had m, — she had ad at least a a new feeling, orn then like ig all that's in i'and the pru- fewer lies arc Chinita, inso- lat seized her, adly fared the | a sudden pas- 38 ; and as you Chinita thrust )ut one word of 2s at the young phraseology and 'overbs used by nrht the idea the Sdacity held her er she had gazed ut him long and searchingly that she could stammer, " Dona Isabel — and 1 — CUiinita — the sanio — of one blood ! " The man nodded, but put his finger u[)on liis lip, lie feared perhaps some wild outburst of surprise or exulta- tion ; but instead she said in an awed whisper, "is she then my mother?" Tio llcyes leaned against the church and burst into irrepressible though silent laughter. " What next will the girl dream of ? " he ejaculated at length, and laughed 11 gam '' What, am I then such a fool? " asked Chinita, coolly, though with inward rage. " Look you, if you had told me yes, 1 would not have believed you any more than 1 believed when Seiior Enrique said that she had the young American killed who died so many years ago. IJah ! one thing is as foolish as the other," and she turned jivvuy disdainfully. ''What!" exclaimed the man, eagerly, "do they say that? llumph I Well, things as strange as that have hap- pened in her day." " But that is a lie," cried Chinita, excitedly ; " it was only because Dona Isabel would not interfere to save his son Irom being shot as murderer and ladron that Enrique said so. He went away himself the day after, and he it was who led Calvo to the rancho del Refugio. But what has that to do with us ? " and now first, perhaps because there had been time for the matter to take shape in her mind, she showed an eager and excited curiosity. "Tell me who I am ; you surely have more to tell me than that I was born Garcia ! " The man stared, then cried, " And is not that enough? Why, for a word thou canst be as good as Doiia Isabel's daughter. With that face of tlxine she dare not refuse thee anything." Chinita looked at him as if she would have torn his secret from him. Strange to saj', not a suspicion that he was jesting with her entered her mind. Even as she stood there almost in rags, she felt instinctively that she ^\as far removed from him. The one thought that she was a Garcia, one of the family whom she looked upon as the incarnation of wealth and power, overpowered every other emotion, even that of curiosity. She was vexed, I I I'm "-•*■■' - i r- \u CI/A/'A AND CUtNUA. i 111 ! 'Ill ii; li'i 1, . ! ; i i gi. 1 Iwiiriiul that ho Haul no more, y^'t- r*'lt «« Uioii Her wild thon[>entant of his words ; "you can better put the ocean into a well, than shut \\\} the truth when it is once out. Ah, I did not need you to tell me 1 was no begi!;ar's brat, picked up by chtince on the plain. 1 have heard them say that Pedro has rich clothes which I was wrapped in. He has always laughi;d at nic when I have asked about them, but all the same ho shall show them to you this very night." *' Chut ! " interrupted the man, " wlmt should I know of swaddling clothes? 'T is just ft maid's folly to think of such trilles. They would not prove thee a (Jarcia, r.ny more than the lack of them belies it, or my mere word insures it ! " "That which puzzles mo is," said Chinita, gravely, turning her head on one side and looking at him keenly by the dim light, " why you have told me this. Have you been sent with a message from — from those who left me here?" "No, by my faith,' said the man, laughing; "and wliy do 1 laiigii, think you? Why, you are the first one who ever asked Tio Reyes for a reason. Does anybody wiio knows me say, ' Why did you take Don Fulano with all his dollars safe through the mountains, and then alluw CllATA AND C.IHNITA. l.'if) tliJil i)()or devil Do Till, wlio hmi not ho rmich as a ''.>ur- IHiiiiiy pieces, to lu; shot down liko a doj^j hy the wayHidu?' No, t!V(!H tli(5 villu}j;(! ihnn iu not ri[)c enough to lull at the lirst pull' of wind." '' 1 will tell you one thin ', though you tell me nothing," said (Jhinita, Hhrewdly, aller a pause : " It i.s not from lovo to Dona Isaluil that you have told me thiH, nor for love of nie either. What ^ood have you done mo by telling mo I am a (Janna? Why, if 1 had had the otinse of a parrot, I might nave known it before;." It Hoemed to her iu her excitement as if, indeed, she had always known it. " A word to the wise is enough," said the man, myste- riously. " Keep your knowledge to yourself, j)ut use it to your advantage. You wore sent like a package to Dona Isabel years ago, but stopped by a clumsy mes- senger. She finds you in her i)ath now ; lot her find something alive under the shabby coverings. God puts many a sweet nut in a rough shell, man}' a poison in despised weeds ! " " Oh ! " cried Chinita, with a wicked little laugh, though even at that moment the chords of kinship thrilled, " I am but a weed to Dona Isabel, oh? Shall I go to her and say, 'Here is a Garcia to be trodden down'?" She said this with so superb an air of derision that the man who unconsciously all his life had been an inimitable actor in his way, muttered a deep caramba of enthusiastic admiration. "I would by all the saints I could stay here to sec how you will goad and sting my grand Senora," he said vindictively. " Ay, remember you are a Garcia, with a hundred old scores to pay off. I have f)ut the cards in your hands, — patience, and shufllc them well ! " "Patience, and shuflle your cards," — those cards simply the knowledge that she was a (iaroia, with presumably the wrongs of parents to avenge. The thoughts wore not very clear in her mind, but the instincts of resentment of insult and of filial devotion were those which amid so much that is uugeuerous, cvU, and fierce, ever pervade the ' :n E 130 CHATA AND CHINITA. % iii. !l r'"iii \\. •iii; i! breast of the Mexican. She turned again to ask almost imploring)}', " My father — my mother — who were they?" when she Ibund she was alone. The stranger had extorted no promise of secrecy, ofl'ered no bribe ; it was as if ho had put a weapon in her hand, knowing that its very pre- ciousness and subtlety would prevent her from revealing whence she had received it, and would indicate the use to which it was to be turned. Chinita leaned against the buttress and pondered. Strangely enough, she did not for a moment think to seek the man and demand further explanation. As she felt he had divined her character, so she divined his. He had said all he would say. Alter all, it was enough. At the end of an hour she left that spot, which she never saw after without a thrill of the heart, and walked straight to the doorway where Pedro sat. He was eating his supper mechanically, with a disturbed countenance, which cleared when ho saw her. "1 y are tamales de chile^ daughter," he said, pusL- ing toward her the platter, upon which lay some morsels of corn-pastry and pepper-sauce, wrapped in corn-leaves. " Eat, thou must be hungry." Pedro sighed, for perplexity and vexation had destroyed his own appetite, and thought enviously, as Chinita's white teeth closed on the soft pastry, which was yellow in com- parison, "It is a good thing nothing but unrequited love keeps the young from supping, — and that only for a time.'* The gate-keeper watched Chinita narrowly as she was eating and drinking atole from the rough earthen jar. There was some change in her he could not understand, quite different from the passion in which he had last seen her, or the languor which would naturally succeed it. She did not talk, and something kept him from referring to the scene in the courtyard ; he felt that she would resent it. Two or three times she bent over him and touched his hand caressingly ; yet he was not encouraged to smooth her tangled hair, or offer any of tlioso awkward proofs of affection which she was wont to receive and laugh at or return as the humor seized her ; neither did he remind her that it was getting late, but at last rose and took from his girdle the key of the postern. CHATA AND CIIINITA. 137 "Put it back, Pedro!" she said in her softest voice. " I shall never sleep in tlic liut witli Florencia and tlio childrcL again ; yet be not afraid, 1 will not go to the corridor either. Tlierc is room and to spare in yon great house." She nodded toward the inner court, muttered a good-night, and before Pedro could recover from his surprise sulHciently to speak, swiftly crossed tL . patio aucl disappeared. Pedro looked after her stupefied. He realized that a great gulf had opened between them ; that figuratively speaking, his foster-child had left him forever, lie looked like one who, holding a pet bird loosely in his hand, had be- held it suddenly escape him, and soar across a wide and bridgcless chasm. Would it dash itself into atoms against the opposite ciilfs, or perchance reach a safe haven ? Such was the essence of the thoughts for v-hich Pedro framed no words. " God is great," he muttered at length, " and knows what He does ; " adding with a sort of heathen and dogged obstinac}', '* but Pedro still is here ; Pedro does not forget nifla I " He looked up as if to some invisible auditor, crossed himself, then wearily threw himself upon his [)allet ; but weary as he was, the strong young subject of his cares was sunk in deep and dreamless sleep long before he closed his eyes. % % XIX. ■ '"I k iH i:;iill I'lt'llMli ll'lll.i 1. \t' • ii' ' i'l !i'' . ■, 1 ■ , V • li .11 i !■ ' 1 < ' \ ■j n i i ii 11 ill i 1 ) i i ; i i 1 Once within the court, Chinita paused and looked aroiuiLl her cautiously. The doors of tlie lower rooms stood open, and she might have entered any one of them unnoticed and found a shelter for the night. But she was in no mood for solitude. Indeed it was hard for her to check a certain wild impulse that seized her, as she saw a faint glimmer of light which streamed through a slight opening of a door on the upper corridor, and that urged her to rush at once into the presence of Dona Isabel and claim recognition. To what relationship, and to what rights, she did not ask herself; a positive though imdefined certainty that Dona Isabel herself would know, and would be forced to yield her justice, possessed her. Chinita was now a child neither in stature nor mind, but though so young in years, had reached the first de- velopment of her powers with the mingled precocity of the Indian and Spaniard, fostered by a clime that seems the very elixir of passion. She had been maturing rapidly in the last few months, and as she stood that night in the faint starlight, the last trace of childhood seemed to drop visibly from her. She folded her arms on her breast, and sighed deeply, — not for sorrow, but as if she breathed a life that was new to her, and her lungs were oppressed by the weight of a strange and too heavily perfumed atmosphere. In her absorption Chinita was unconscious that she was observed, — but it chanced that Don Rafael Sanchez and his mother had just left the Senora Doiia Isabel, and were passing through the upper corridor to their own apart- ments. The gallery was wide and they were in the shadow, but a stray gleam of light touched the upturned face of tlic girl and exhibited it in strong relief within the framing of her waving hair. As they caught sight of it, they involuntarily paused to look at her. youn not mira( what Isabc " f stand him u ohani — tk men I surni CI/ATA AND CUINITA. 139 "I do not wonder," whispered B'eliz," tluit 8ueh a face is an accusing conscience to Dona Isabel. There is a strange familiarity in every feature ; and what a spirit, too, she Ims, — one even to glory in strife ! " Don Rafael nodded. " There has always seemed to me something in that child to mark her as the offspring of a dominant famil^'/'he said ; " it is inevitable that she must break the lines an adverse Fate has cast about her. Others such as she stretch out a hand to Vice ; if some- thing better comes to her, who are we to hinder it? " The brow of Dona Feliz contracted. " Ay, Rafael," she murmured, '' what a change a few miserable years have wrought ! Once 1 was a sister to Doiia Isabel, and now — " "You are no traitress," interposed Don Rafael, " and it is by circumstance only that the change has come. Console yourself, dear mother, and remember we are pledged. Though we seem false to her mother, only so can we be true to Herlinda." He breathed the name so low that even Donr. Feliz did not hear it ; she listened rather to the beating of the heart that seemed to repeat without cessation the name of one so loved and lost. " How strange it is, Rafael," she said prcsentl}', "that I have such persistent, such mocking dreams, which against my reason, against all precedent, create in me the belief that all is not ended for Herlinda Garcia." Don Rafael looked at her musingly. " There is a man called Juarez who has dreams such as yours," he said ; " but they are of the freedom of a race, not of one woman alone. But he is hardly able to work miracles. Yet, mother, this truly is the time of prodigies ; what think you this boy, the young American that Doiia Isabel brought hither, calls himself ? " " I have asked him," she said, "but he did not under- stand me. Oh, Rafael ! my heart stood still when I saw him first; yet after all he is not so very like — " "Yet he has the same name, Mother. It maj' be but chance ; those Americans arc half barbarians as we know, — they forget the saints, and seek to glorify their great men by giving their children as Christian names the surnames of those who have distinguished themselves in I Ih ■\\ t: It m • !|!!i 140 C//ATA AND CHINITA. !S ik .:|ir \ "I.,. i 1 „ ' j ■'•iii: 1. * 1 1 battle or statesmansliip. Sometimes, too, a mother proud of the surname of her own family gives it to her son. It may have been so with this man. When I gave him pen and pai)er, and bade him write his name, it was thus : ' Ashley Ward.' " The name as spoken by Don Rafael was mispronounced, would have been hardly recognizable in the ears of him who owned it ; yet to Dona Fcliz it was like a trumpet blast. " Strange ! strange ! strange ! " she repeated again and again. "Can it be mere chance?" " That we shall soon know," said Don Rafael. " These Americans blurt out their affairs to the first comer, expecting help from every quarter. There is no rain that falls but that they fancy it is to water their own field. Nay, mother," as Doiia Feliz made a movement toward the stairway, " go not near the man to-night ; he has fever, and is in need of quiet. Old Selsa is with him, and he can need no better care. He is safe to remain here many days ; let him rest in peace now. And do you, mother, try to sleep ; you are weary and worn." With the filial solicitude of a true Mexican, the m..n, already middle-aged, took his mother's hand fondly and led her to the door of her own apartment. There she detained him long in low and earnest conversation, and when on leaving her he looked down into the court it was entirely deserted. In glancing around her, Chinita's e3'es had caught no glimpse of the figures above, perhaps because they had been diverted by a faint glimmer of light at one angle of the courtyard ; and remembering that this came from the room to which the wounded man had been carried, she darted swiftly and noiselessly toward it, and in a moment had pushed the door sufficiently ajar to admit of her entrance, and had passed in. She arrested her footsteps at the foot of the narrow bed, which extended like a bier from the wall to the centre of the room. There was not another article of furniture in the apartment, except a chair upon which the sick man's coat was thrown ; but Chinita's eyes, accustomed to the vault-like and vacant suites of square cells that made up the greater part of the vast building, were struck with no sense of desolation. A slender jar of water, and a number of earthen utensils of pi e CI/ ATA AND CirfNITA. 141 (lifTorcnt forma and shapes, containing modicamcnts and f(KKl, were gathered upon the floor near the J)ed's head ; and on a deep window-ledge was placed a sputtering tallow- candle, which had already half liilod with groaac the clay sconce in which it was sunk. As Chinita leaned ever the foot of the bed and peered through her unkempt locks at its occupant, he looked up with a start, and presently said something in an appeal- ing tone, which certainly touched her more than the words, could she have unclerstood them, would have done. He had in fact exclaimed in English, with an unmistaka- ble American intonation, " Heavens, what a gypsy ! and what can she want here in this miserable jail they have left me in?" She thought ho had perhaps asked for water, so she gave him some, which was not unacceptable, — though it irritated him that after giving him the cup, she took up the candle and held it close to his face while he drank. She was in the mood for new impressions however rather than for kindness, and the sight of a strange face pleased her. Burning with fever though he was, and tossing with all the impatience natural to his condition, he could not but notice the totally unaffected ease with which she made her inspection. He might have been a curly-headed infant instead of a man, so utterly unconcernedly did she look into his dark-blue eyes, and note the broad white brow upon which his damp yellow hair clustered, even touching lightly with her finger the firm white throat bared by the opened collar sufficiently to expose the clumsily arranged dressings on the wounded shoulder. Instantly, with a few deft movements, she made them more com- fortable, for which the young man thanked her in a few of the very i 3anty words of Spanish at his command, — at which she laughed, not ironically, but with a sort of nervous irrelevance, thinking to herself the while, " He is beautiful — bless me, yes ! as beautiful as they say the murdered American was ! Who knows ? this one may come from the same district! It must be but a little place, his country, — there cannot be such a very great world outside the mountains yonder; they touch heaven everywhere. Look now, how white his arms are, and his brow, where the sun has not touched it ! and how red his cheeks ! hV ,»• mmmm 142 CIIATA AND CiriNITA. i' J! !'ii"">*ii 1 1. ( • I i 4 1 'V [' J!!: i #, Hut that must bo with the fever." Ami so lialf audibly she made her comments upon the wounded stranger, seem- ingly entirely unconscious or regardless tliat there was any mind or soul within this body she so franlily admired, — lifting liis unwounded arm sometimes, or turning his faco into better view, as she might have done parts of a mechanism that pleased her. " Evidently she thinks me wooden," ho said with a gleam of humor in his eyes. " As I am dumb to her, she believes mo also senseless and sightless. Thanks, for taking away that ill-smelling candle," as with the olfend- ing taper in her hand she passed to the other side of the bed. Then she stopped and laughed, and ho remem- bered that he had seen the old woman who had been left in charge of him arrange her sheepskins there and throw herself upon them. Until the young girl had come, old Selsa's snores had vexed him ; since that he had forgotten them, though now they became audible again. As Chinita laughed, she placed the candle-stick upon the window-ledgo and looked around her, stretching herself and yawning. The hour was late for her, the diversion caused b}- sight of tho blond stranger and the little service she had ren- dered him had relaxed the tension of her mind, and she felt herself aweary ; the shadows fell dark in every corner of the room, — there was something grewsome in its aspect even to Chinita's accustomed eyes. It subdued her wild and reckless mood, and she scanned the place narrowly for something upon which she might lie. Presentl}" the young man saw her glide toward the sleeping nurse, and deftly, with a half mischievous, half triumphant expression upon her face, draw out one of the sheepskin mats upon which the old woman was lying, and taking it to the oppo- site side of the bed arrange it to her liking upon the brick floor, and sinking upon it softl}' and daintily as a cat might have done, compose herself to sleep. The candle on the window-sill sputtered and flickered ; old Selsa snored in her corner, seemingly undisturbed b}^ the abstraction of a part of her bed ; the shadows in the apartment grew longer and longer; the eyelids of the young girl closed, her regular breathing parted her full lips. The young man had painfully raised himself upon one arm, and assured himself of this. He himself was ClfATA AND cm NIT A. 143 dropping; ofT into flnatohos of 8lnm])cr which promised to bocoinc profound, wiicn suddenly with a wtjirt ho found himself wide awake, and staring at a draped fif^ure which had noiselessly glided into his chamber. Save for the candle it bore he woidd have thought it n. visi- tant from another world ; but liis first surprise over, ho recognized it as that of a woman. Ho was conscious that his heart beat wildly ; his fever had returned. Where had he seen this pale proud face, these classic features, these dark penetrating eyes? For a mojuent again he felt as if swinging between heaven and earth, between life and death. Ah ! yes, ho comprehended, — he had been brought thither in some swaying vehicle, and this woman bad been beside him ; she perhaps had saved his life. lie murmured a word of thanks, but she did not notice it. " Sefior," she said in a voice soft in courtesy, " I pray you forgive me that I had for a little time forgotten my guest. I trust you lack for nothing ? Ah ! what — alone ? " and with a frown, she made a motion as if to awaken the servant Selsa. He understood the gesture though not the words, and stopped her by one as expressive. "No, no!" ho exclaimed. "I too shall sleep; and slie is old. I would not awaken her. See, if I need any- thing a touch of my hand will rouse this girl," — and the young man indicated by a turn of his head and arm the recumbent figure which his visitor had not observed. With some curiosity she moved to the opposite side of the bed, and bending over lightly removed the fringe of the rcboso which shaded the face of the sleeper. Dofia Isabel started, and a slight exclamation escaped her lips as she turned hurriedly away, — as hurriedly returning, and shad- ing the candle with her hand, that its light might not fall upon the eyes of the sleeper, she gazed upon the young girl long and earnestly. Unmindful of herself, she suffered the full glare of the candle to illuminate her own coun- tenance ; and as he looked upon it, the young American thought it might serve as the very model for the mask of tragedy. Nothing more pitiless, more remorseless, more sombre than its expression could be imagined ; yet as she gazed, a flush of shame rose from neck to brow. Her eyes clouded, her breath came with a quick gasp. She stood M -^ r 144 CHATA AND CHINITA. f''^. % for a moment clasping the rod at the foot of the bed with her white nervous hand ; she looked at the American fixedly, yet she seemed to have no consciojisness that she herself was seen ; and presently, with the alow move- ment of a somnambulist, so absorbing was her thought, she turned to the dr. Ashley was watching her intently ; suddenly her light was extinguished, and she vanished as if dissolved in air. He was calm enough to remember that she had spoken to him, to know that she could be no phantom of his imagination, ana to suppose that upon stepping into the corridor she had extinguished her light, and sped noiseless'^ along the wall to some other apartment ; yet for a long time a feeling of my story oppressed him, and he could not sleep. A vague consciousness of some strange influence near him kept him feverish, with all his senses on the alert ; yet he heard no movement of the woman who crouched within the doorway, leaning against the cold wall, and who during the long silent night passed in review the strange evenLs that had brought her — the Senora Isabel Garcia de Garcia — to guard the slumbers of a foundling, the foster-child of a man so low in station as the gate-keeper of her house. f \ ; :■ " m lii- liiifr'f'Mi ■;;■ il illt he bed with 3 American usness that »low move- ler thought, her light was [ in air. He oken to him, imagination, corridor she is'^ along the Ame a feeling jep. A vague him kept him t he heard no the doorway, the long silent tt had brought -to guard the a man so low XX. Dona Isabel Garcia had been bom within the walls of Tres Hcrmanos, her father having been part owner of the estate, and her mother the daughter of an impoverished gentleman of the neighboring city of Guanapila. Doiia Clarita had been a most beautiful woman, whose attractions had been utilized to prop the falling fortunes of her house by her marriage with the elderly but kindly proprietor Don Ignacio Garcia. At the time of her marriage, Clarita Rodriguez was very young, and with the habits of submission universal among her countrywomen would probably have taken kindly to her fate, never doubting its justice, but that from her balcony she had one day seen a young officer of the city troop ride by in all the magnificence of the military uniform of the period. A dazzling vision of gold lace and braid, clanking spurs and sabre, and of eyes and teeth and smile more dazzling still, haunted her for weeks. Yet that might have passed, but that the vision glided from the eye to the heart, when on one luckless night, at the governor's ball, Pancho Valle was introduced to her, and they twice were partners in that lover's delirium the slow and voluptuous danza. As they moved together in the dreamy measure, a few low words were exchanged, — commonplace perhaps but not harmless, and by one at least never to be forgotten. Afterward an occasional missive penned in most regular characters upon daintily tinted paper came to her hands through some com- plaisant servant. But Don Ranulfo Rodriguez was too jealous a guardian to suffer many such to escape him, and had been far too wise in his generation to place it in his daughter's power to engage in such dangerous pastime as the production of replies to unwelcome suitors. Like most other girls of her age and position, Clarita had been strenu- ously prevented from learning to write, and it is doubtful if she ever knew the exact import of Vallo's perfumed 10 riffip m 1 P.:| 1 ,[■ i' ! ■ i' !■)': !l i!; pi.;!.!^ ■) ^:-'i I 146 CHAT A AND CHINJTA. missives, although her heart doubtless guessed what her eyes could not decipher. Whether Vallo's impassioned glances meant all the}- in- dicated or not, certain it was that he had not ventured to declare himself to the father as a suitor for the fair Clarita's hand, when Don Ignacio Garcia stopped in and literally carried awa}' the prize. The courtship had been short, the position of the groom unassailable. Clarita shed some tears, but the delighted father declared they were for joy at her good fortune ; and they were indeed of so mixed a character — baffled love, wounded pride, and an irrepres- sible sense of triumph at her unexpected promotion — that she herself scarce cared to analyze them. She danced with Valle once again on the occasion of her marriage ; again a few words were spoken, and the passionate heart of Clarita was pierced with a secret dart, which never ceased to rankle. Don Ignacio Garcia conducted her immediately to the hacienda, where his jealous nature found no cause for sus- picion ; and there the little Isabel was born ; and on be- holding the wealth of maternal aifection which the young wife lavished upon her child, the husband forgot the in- difference that had sometimes chafed him, and for a few brief months imagined himself beloved. This egotistic delusion was never dispelled, for at its height, upon the second anniversary of their wedding day, when taking part in a bull-chase, Don Ignacio's horse swerved as he urged him to the side of the infuriated animal ; a mo- ment's hesitancy was fatal ; the horse was ripped open by the powerful horn of the bull, and plunging wildly, fell back upon his luckless rider, whose neck was instantly broken- It was an accident which it seemed incredible could have happened to a man so skilled in horsemanship as was Don Ignacio. The spectators were for a moment dumb with horror and surprise, then with groans and shrieks rushed to the rescue, but only to lift a corpse. Dona Clarita with a wild shriek had fainted as the horse plunged back, and upon regaining her senses, threw herself in an agony of not unremorseful grief upon the body of her husband. It was, however, of that violent character which soon ex- pends itself; and before the funeral obsequies were well over, she began to look around the narrow horizon of Trc"? CHATA AND CHINITA. 147 II they in- jntured to r Clarita'3 d litcniUy een short, shed some ere for joy so mixed a in irrepres- tion— that She danced r marriage; ionate heart which never lately to the ause for sus- ; andonbe- [•h the young forgot the m- and for a few this egotistic crht, upon the "when taking ,werved as he Qimal; a mo- ipped open hy rildly,fell^ac^ jtantly broken, ble could have lip as was Don ent dumb with shrieks rushcil >na Clarita with nged back, anil in an agony o er husband. ^^ 'which soon ex- jquies were well horizon of Trc;? Ilcrmanos, and remember, if not rejoice, that she was free to go beyond it. Don Grcgorio, the cousin of Clarita's husband's, though a mere boy, had been brought up on tlie estate, and was competent to take charge, and the administrador and clerks were trusty men ; so there was no absolute reason why the 3'oung widow should remain to guard her inter- ests and those of her child, and it seemed but natural she should return to her father's house, at least during the Ih-st months of her sorrow. Thither indeed she went. She had dwelt there before, a dependent child, to be disposed of at her father's will ; she returned to it a rich widow, profuse of her favors but tenacious of her rights, one of which all too soon proclaimed itself to bef that of choosing for herself a second husband. A month or two after her arrival in the citv, Don Pancho Vallc re- turned from some expedition in which patriotism and i)er- sonal gain were deftly combined, with the halo of success added to his personal attractions, and was quick to declare an unswerving devotion to the divinity at whose shrine ho had worshipped but doubtfully while it remained ungilded by the sun ct* prosperity. Whether Clarita had learned to read or not, certain it is that Don Pancho's impassioned missives met with a response more satisfactory than pen and ink alone could give, for immediately after the expira- tion of the 3'ear due to the memory of Don Ignacio, she became the wife of the gay soldier. Don Pancho and his wife were both young, both equally delighted in excitement and luxury ; and within an in- credibly short time the ample resources which had seemed to them boundless were perceptibly narrowed. To the taste for extravagant living, for gorgeous apparel, for numerous and magnificent horses, shared by them in com- mon, were added a passionate love of gambling, and a scarcely less expensive one for military enterprises of an independent and half guerilla order, on the part of Don Pancho ; and thus a few years saw the wife's fortune reduced to an encumbered interest in the lauds of Tres Hermanos. Don Pancho in spite of numerous infidelities still re- tained his influence over the heart and mind of Clarita ; and one night in play against Don Gregorio Garcia — j.; ,'5 ^,Mii,J 148 CHATA AND CHINTTA. I n ! ,|lli liilitelii: M '"' m %4 '"'"lifi,! i'SI' 'M' 'W ■ii: 'i; f* ill' ' ' 1 'iHll who, like other caballeros, occasionalh' engaged in a game or two for pastime — he staked the last acre of her estate, knowing she would refuse him nothing, and lo3t. For a momeiit ho looked blank, — a most unwonted manifesta- tion of dismay i so practised a gambler, — then laughed and shook hands with his fortunate opponent. There was a laughing group around him, condoling with him banter- ingly, for Pancho Vall6 had never seemed to make any misfortune a serious matter, when a pistol-shot was heard. For a moment no one realized what had happened ; the young officer stood in his g / uniform, smiling still, his gold-mounted pistol in his hand, then fell heavilj' forward. The ball had passed through his heart. His widow had the satisfaction of seeing b}- the smile that remained on his handsome countenance that he had died as joyouslj^ as he had lived ; not a trace of care showed that aught deeper than mere pique and caprice had moved him. " Angel of my life ! " she cried, when her first burst of grief was over, ' thou wert beginning to make my heart ache, for I had nothing more to give thee ! " This was her only word of reproach, if reproach it might be called. For love that woman would have yielded even her life, and never have known the hoUowness of her idol. Grief did the work that ingratitude and neglect — nay absolute cruelty — would perhaps never have effected, and in a few short months destroyed her life. As she was dying she called her daughter to her. " Isabel," she said, " thou hast wealth, thy brother has nothing : swear to me by the Virgin and thy patron saint, that thou wilt be as a mother to him, that thou wilt refuse him nothing that thy hand can give ! Money, money, mone}', is what makes men happy ! " That had been the creed her Ufe's experi- ence had taught her. For money her father had sold her ; for that the husband she adored had given her fair words and caresses. " As thou wouldst have thy mother's bless- ing, promise me that Leon shall never appeal to thee in vain ! " Isabel Garcia was but a child, and the boy Leon but three years younger ; yet as she looked upon her dying mother she solemnly promised to fill her place, to take upon herself the role of sacrifice, which her religion taught her was that of motherhood. Poor Clarita! little had I * girl evil, ward Lee ising showe of soil the 01 lount iiiili; CHATA AND CHINITA. 149 J ^ she understood a mother's highest duties, — to warn, to guide, to plead with God for the beloved. The mere yielding of material things, — to clothe herself in sackcloth, that the child might be robed in purple, to walk barefoot that he might ride in state, to hunger that he might be delicately fed, — she had pictured tiiese things to herself as the purest sacrifices, and surely the only ones to appeal to the hea -*i of such men as she had known ; and the young Isab \ entered upon her task with her mother's pre- cepts deeply engraved upon her heart, her mind all unin- structed, awaiting the iron finger of experience to write upon it its lessons. After their mother's death, the 3'oung brother and sis- ter, mere children both, went to live in the house of some elderly relatives, who with generous though not always judicious kindness strove to forget the faults of the father by ignoring them when they became apparent in the boy. The uncle of Isabel, the Friar Francisco, became their tutor, but taught them little beyond the breviary. What could a woman need with more ? As for Leon, he took more kindly to the lasso and saddle, to the pistol and sword, than to ths book or pen, — and even while still a child in years, more passionately still to the gaming table. Though his elders with a shake of the head remembered his father's fate, and sometimes i)U8hed the boy half laugh- ingly away from the montc table, or of a Sunday afternoon sent him out to the bull-ring for his diversion, where he was a mere spectator, rather than to the cock-pit, where he became a participant, yet the question did not present ilself as One at all of questionable morals : every one gambled on a feast day, or at a social game among one's friends. Perhaps of all those b}' whom he was surrounded, no one felt any serious anxiety for Leon except the young girl who with premature solicitude warned him of the evil, even as she supplied the means to indulge his way- ward tastes. Leon was a brilliant rather than a handsome boy, prom- ising to be well grown ; and his lithe, vigorous figure showed to good advantage in his gay riding-suits, whether of sombre black '^loth with silver buttons set closcl}'^ down the outer seam of the pantaloons and adorning the short round jacket, or in loose chapareras of buckskin bound by t'l 150 CHATA AND CHINITA. f I i I V I. I ill I a scarlet sash and bedizened with leather fringes, — a cos- tume that perhaps served to betray the Indian strain in his blood, which ordinarily was detected only by a slight prominence of the cheek bones and a somewhat furtive expression in the soft dark eyes. At unguarded moments, however, perhaps when he fancied himself un- observed and was practising with his pistol or sabre, those eyes could Hash with concentrated fire, so that more than once Isabel had been constrained to call out: "Leon, Leon, you frighten me ! You look like the great cat when he pounces upon a harmless little bird and crushes it for the very joy of killing ! " Then Leon would laugh, and the soft, dreamy haze would rise again over the eyes as he would turn upon her. "Ha!" he would say, "you will never be a man, Isabel ; you will never understand why I love the sights and sounds that throw you po jr women into fainting fits and tears. Ha ! Isabel, if I were you I 'd not stay in this dull house with a couple of old women to guard me, when you might go to the hacienda and be free as air." " Nonsense," Isabel would retort ; *' what could I do there other than here? I could not turn herdsman or vaquero, nor even ride out to the fields to see how the crops were flourishing, nor roam like an Indian through the mountains." " But Z would ! " Leon would cry enthusiastically ; and witli his longing ardor for the free life of a country gentle- man, with its barbaric luxury and wild sports, he thus first put into the 3'oung girl's mind the thought of favor- ing the suit which her cousin, Don Gregorio Garcia, be- gan to urge. Don Gregorio had married young, soon after the death of Ignacio Garcia whom he succeeded in the management of the estate of which they had been joint owners ; but his wife had died leaving him without an heir, and the first grief assuaged, it was but natural after the passage of years that the widower should weary of his loneliness. There w(!re many reasons why his thoughts Rhould turn to his distant cousin Isabel, for though she was many 3'ears younger than himself, such disparit}' of age was not uimsual ; the marriage would unite still more closely the family fortunes, and effectually prevent the intrusion of CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 151 any undesirable stranger ; and above all, Isabel was gra- cious and queenly and beautiful enough to eliarm the heart even of an anchorite, and Don Gregorio was far from being one. Indeed, in his very early 3'ears he had given iudieations of a partiality for a far more adventur- ous career than he had finall}"^, by force of circumstances, been led to adopt. Thus he sympathized somewhat with Leon's restless activity, and quite honestly secured the boy's alliance, — no slight advantage in his siege of the heart of Isabel. This, perhaps more than the good-will of the rest of the family, enabled Don Gregorio to approach so nearly to Isabel's inmost nature that he learned far more of the strength of purpose and capability for passionate devotion possessed by the young untrained girl than any other being had done, and for the first time in his life knew a love far deeper and purer than any passion which mere physical charms could awaken. Such a love appealed to Isabel. She was perhaps constitutionally cold to sexual charms, but cuiinently susceptible to the sympathetic attrition of an ai)i)reciative mind, while her heart could translate far more readily the rational outpourings of friendship than the wild rhapsodies of passion. ']'hus, although Isabel would have shrunk from a man wlio in his ardor would li:ive demanded of her affection some sacrifice of the un- (luulified devotion that she had vowed to her brother, she seemed to find in Don Gregorio one who could understand nnd applaud the exctggerated devotion to the ideal stan- ihird of filial and sisterly duty which she had unconsciously eri'cted upon the few utterlj' irrational words of a weak and dying woman. The first four years of Isabel's married life passed un- ovuutfuU}'. Leon was constantly near her, and was the lite of the great house, which despite the crowd of re- tainers that frequented it would without him have proved but a dull dwelling for so young a matron, with no illu- sions in regard to the staid and kindly husband, who was ratlier a friend to be consulted and revered than a lover to be adored, — for although Don Gregorio worshipped his beautiful young wife, he was at once too mindful of his own dignity, and too war}^ of startling Isabel's passionless nature!, to manifest or exact romantic and exhaustive liu if' imn.'.t, / r ■ ij.-ii' • i|'iil| 152 CHATA AND CHINITA. proofs of affection. He used sometimes to mutter to him- self: "'The stronger the flame the sooner the wood is burnt ; ' better that the 8ui)stance of love should endure than be dissipated in smoke ! " Don Gregorio was somewhat of a philosopher ; and as such, as soon as the glamour thrown over him by Leon's brilliant but inconsequent sallies of wit, and his daring and dashing manner, was dimmed, and above all as soon as his unreasoning sympathy with Isabel's predispositions settled into a calm and sincere desire for her certain hap- piness and welfare, he began to look with some suspicion upon traits which had at first attracted him as the natural outcome of an ardent and generous nature. Friar Francisco had accompanied the young brother and sister to the hacienda, partly to minister in the church, and partly as tutor to Leon ; but in the latter capacity he found little exercise for his talents. Upon one pretext or another the boy at first evaded and later absolutely re- fused study; but he joined so heartily in the labors as well as pleasures of hacienda life, — he was so ready in re- source, sc untiring m action, so companionable alike to all classes, that Nature seemed to have fitted him abso- lutely for the position that he was apparently destined to fill in life. Yet though he was the prince of rancheros, the life of the city sometimes seemed to possess an irresistible attraction for him ; and after months perhaps spent among the employees of the hacienda, in riding with the vaqueros or in penetrating the recesses of the mountain, even sleep- ing in the huts of charcoal burners, or in caves with rovers of still more doubtful reputation, he would suddenly weary of it all, and followed by a servant or two ride gaj'ly down to the city to see how the world went there. At first Don Gregorio had no idea how much those visits cost Isabel ; but as time went on, and rumors reached them of the boy's extravagant mode of life, Isa- bel became anxious and Don Gregorio indignant. Some investigation showed that a troop of young roysterers who called him captain were maintained in the moun- tains, and that a thousand wild freaks which had m^'sti- fied the neighboiing villages and haciendas might be ti'aced to these mad spirits, among whom Don Grego- rio shrewdly conjectured might be found many of the CHATA AND CHINITA, 153 most daring 5'oung fellows, both of the higher and lower orders, who had one by one mysteriously disap- peared during the few months preceding Leon's eighteenth birthday. Leon only laughed when taxed with his guerilla follow- ing, and although as he managed it it was a somewhat costly amusement, it was not an unusual or an altogether useless one in those days of anarchy ; for no one could say how soon the foitunes of war might turn an enemy upon the land and stores of Tres Hermanos, and even Don Gregorio was not displeased to find the most refrac- tory of his retainers placed in a position to defend rather than imperil the interests of the estate. As tr the es- capades of city life he found them less pardonable, for they consisted chiefly in mad devotion to the gaming-table, which Leon was never content to leave until his varying fortunes turned to disaster and his wild excitement was quelled by the tardy reflection that his sister's generosity would be taxed in thousands to pay the folly of a night. Before th ^ age of twenty Leon Valle had run the gamut of the vices and extravagances peculiar to Mexican youths, and large as the resources of Dona Isabel were, he had bc^un to encroach seriously upon them ; for true to her mother's request, she had never refused to supply his demands for money, though of late she had begun to make remonstrances, which were received half incredulously, half sullenly, as though he realized neither their justice nor their necessity. Isabel was now a mother, her daughter Herlinda having been born a year after her marriage, and their son Norberto, the pride and hope of Don Gregorio, three years later ; and naturally the young mother longed to consider the interests of her children, which so far as her own property was concerned seemed utterly obliterated and overwhelmed by the mad extravagances of her brother. Strangely enough, Don Gregorio attempted no interfer- ence with his wife's disposal of her income, though it seemed not improbable that at no distant day even the lands would be in jeopardj\ Perhaps he foresaw that as her means to gratify his insatiable demands declined, so gradually Leon's strange fascination over his sister would cease ; for inevitably his restless spirit would draw him afar to find fresh fields for adventure, since in those days, It] El 'fl r m II 154 en ATA AND CIIINITA. V'\ I f 'V' \u ■■ ll i., ii'. 1 . ■ ll' J*'' ' ; 'i ': ' i! i i ii 1 M^ 1; ;i ■ ■ ^ , ',."'. .,j„iMM 1 ii 1 ! 1 ji 1 ! . 'It ■'! whon the groat struggle between Cliurch and State was beginning anil Ibieign eouiplications were tbrming, sueh a leader as he nuglit prove to be would find no laek of oceasion for daring deeds and reckless followers, nor scarcity of plunder with which to repay the latter. Whatever were his thoughts, Don Gregorio guarded thcin well, saying sometimes either to Leon himself, or to 8onie friend who expressed a half horrified conjecture as to where such absolute madness must end, '' See you not, *t is foolish to S(iueeze the orange until one tastes the bit- terness of the rind?" He expected some sudden and vio- lent reaction in Isabel's mind and conduct. But though she began to show she realized and suffered, she bore the strain put upon her with royal fortitude. Youth can hope through such adverse circumstances, and it always seemed to her that one who "meant so well" as Leon, must eventually turn from temptation and begin a new and nobler career. At last what appeared to Isabel the turning point in her brother's destiny was reached. He became violently enamored of the beautiful daughter of a Spaniard, one Senor Fernandez, who of a family too distinguished to be flattered by an alliance with a mere attache of a wealthy and powerful house, was so poor as to be willing to con- sider it should a suitable provision be made to insure his daughter's future prosperity. The beautiful Dolores was herself favorably inclined toward the gay cavalier, who most ardently pressed his suit, — the more ardently per- haps that he was piqued and indignant that the wary father utterly refused to consider the matter until Don Gregorio or Dona Isabel herself should formally ask the hand of his daughter, presenting at the same time unmis- takable assurances of Leon's ability to fulfil the promises he recklessly poured forth. That Leon had turned from his old evil courses scemetl as months passed on an absolute certainty. Not even tho administrador himself could be more utterly bound to tlio wheel of routine than he. To sec his changed life, his ab- solute repugnance even to the sports suitable to his age, w as almost piteous ; his whole heart and mind seemed set upon atonement for the folly of the past, and in preparation ^ for a life of toil and anxiety in the future. For in exam- ill lug was with I works by stri tliut f Leon make ( Don self wh but pn giiey, f I'lan-iagJ '"11(1 thai] «'ie kne( ClIATA AND ClIINirA. 155 iniiig into her alluirs, Dona Isabel foiiiul that her iiicomo was largely overdrawn ; Lcoh'h extravagances, together with heavy losses incurred in the working of the reduction- works, had so far crippled her resources that it was only l)v stringent etfort, and an appeal to Don Gregorio for aid, tluvt she was enabled so to rehabilitate the fortunes of ].i'on that he could hope to win the prize which was to make or mar his future. Dona Isabel was as happy as the impatient lover him- self when she could place in his hands the deeds of a small but productive estate, famous for the growth of tho ma- guey, from which the sale of pulque and mescal promised a never failing revenue. The money had been raised largely through concessions made by Don Gregorio, and was to be repaid from the income of Isabel's encumbered estate, so that for some years at least it would be out of her power to render Leon any further assistance. Don Gre- gorio shook his head gravel}- over the whole matter ; yet the fact that the young man was virtually thrown upon the resources provided for him, which certainly without the concentration of all his energies and tact would be alto- gether insufficient for his maintenance, and also that ho h:ul great faith in the energy of character which for the liist time appeared diverted into a legitimate channel, in- clined him to believe that at last, urged by necessity as Avell as love, Leon would redeem his past and settle clown into the reputable citizen and relative who was to justify and repay the sister's tireless and extraorumary devotion. "Or at least," he said to himself, "Isabel will be satisfied that no more can or should be done ; and it is worth a for- tune to convince her of that." Strangely enough, though Isabel had addressed herself with a frenzy of determination to the task of securing a competency for Leon that might enable him to marry and enter upon a life which was to relieve her of the constant drain upon her resources, both material and mental, which for years had been sapping her prosperity and peace, 3'et as slie beheld him ride awav toward the town in which his inamorata dwelt to make the final arrangements for his 'f?*- marriage, her heart sank within her ; and instead of relief iind thankfulness, she felt a frightful pang of apprehension, sho knew not wh}', as if a prophetic voice warned her that ' Hi ,1 .! i: !ln mm 01 ^1 : " .tj 150 CIIATA AND CniNlTA. v • X i l;!*""i,„, Pi h 'ii !i' t »'■" 11^' ■" 'k 1 ' '' 'i hur own hand had oj)«:i>cd the door to n ohuinber of horrors, through which tho b'uiliiij; youth would i)ns8 uiid drug licr as lu! went. Isabel threw herself upon her husband's breast in an agony which he could not comprehend, but whicii he gently soothctl, happy to feel that to him she turned in the Ih-Ht moment of her abandonment, — for indeed she felt that HJic who had given her substance, her Hymi)athy, her faith, all of which a sister's life is capable, was indeed abandoned, and all for a fresh young face, a word, a smile. Leon was a changed man, but all her devotion had not worked the miracle ; another whose love could be as yet but a fancy had accomplished what years of sacrifice from her had striven for in vain ! There was something of jealousy, but far more of the pain of ballled aspiration in the thought, and through it all that dreadful doubt, that sickening dread as to whethof she had done well thus to strip herself of the power to minister to him. It seemed, even against her reason, im- possible that Leon could be beyond the pale of her bounty ; she had been so accustomed to plan, to think, to plot for him, that she could not grasp the thought that henceforth he was to live without her, that she was to know him happy, joyous, at ease, and she no longer be the immediate and ministering Providence which made him so. After the infant Carmen was born, the mother's thoughts turned into other channels. As she looked at this child, the thought for the first time came to her, that some day it might be possible that her children would inherit some material good from her. Their father was a rich man, yet there was a pleasure in the thought that her children, licr daughters most especially, would be pleased b}' a mother's rich gifts, would perhaps from her receive the dower that would make them welcome in the homes of the men they might love. Isabel began to indulge in the maternal hopes and visions of j'oung motherhood, and to foci the security that a still hopeful mind may acquire, after years of secret and harassing cares have passed. The usual visits of ceremony had passed between the contracting families ; the Scfior Fernandez had declared himself satisfied with the generous provisions which had been made for the j'oung couple ; the house was set in C II ATA AND C/f/N/TA. 157 order, nnd nn early dii}' niuiicd for the wedding. Sumo davH of purest luii)[)ines.s followed tlio tearful uuxlety with wliicli Dolores liud uwuited the negotiations that were to shape her destiny. An earnest of the future came to lier in the present of jewels, with which Leon presaged the marriage gifts which he went to the city of Mexico to choose, — for whether rich or poor, no Mexican bridegroom would fail of a necklet of pearls, or a brooch and earrings of brilliants for his bride ; and with his luxurious tastes, it was not to bo supposed that Leon Valle could fail to add to these laces and silks and velvets, fit rather for a princess than for the future wife of a country 3'outh whoso only capital was in house and land. Isabel had just heard of these things, and had begun to excuse in her hear*^^ these extravagances, which seemed so natural to a youth in love, when a remembrance flashed upon her mind which justified the apprehensions she had felt, and which it seemed incredible should have escaped not only her own but also Don Grcgorio's vigilance, — Leon had gone to Mexico In the days of the feast of San Augustin. Isabel was too jealous of her brother's good name, too eager to shield him from a breath of distrust, to mention the fears that assailed her. vShe called herself irrational, faithless, unjust, yet she could not rid herself of the dread which seemed to brood above her like a cloud. And so passed the month of June, and July brought Leon Vallo back again, and one glance at his haggard face and bloodshot eyes revealed to Isabel tliat Iicr fears wero realized. He told the talc in a few words and with a hol- low laugh. " You will have to go to Garcia for me now, Isabel," ho said. " Your last venture has brought me the old luck, cursed bad luck. A plague upon your money I I thought to double or treble it, and the last cent is gone ! " "And the hacienda of San Lazaro?" queried Isabel, faintly. " Would you believe it? Gone too ! Aranda has had the devil's own luck. 'T was the last of the feast, Isabel. Thousands were changing hands at every table. It seemed a cowardice not to tr}^ a stake for a fortune that might bo had for the asking. I was a fool, and hesitated till it was too late. Had I only ventured at once I What think ili-.i^ m |i mm m lii 11^ •[ m %:-'■■ 'U '3', "i m 158 CHATA AND CHINITA. you happened to Leoncio Alvarez ? He played his hacienda against Esparto's, and lost. He had dared nie not five minutes before to the venture. The devil, what a chance I missed ! His hacienda was three times the size of San Lazaro ! He bore its loss like a man. ' "V^'hat can one do, friend ? ' he cried to Esparto ; ' it has been thy luck to-day, 't will be mine when we next meet.' Just then his brother Antonio came up. 'What luck, Leoncio?' he said. * Cursed ! ' he answered. ' I have played my hacienda against Esparto's here, and lost it.' Antonio shrugged his shoulders and turned away. 'Play mine and go.t it back,' he suggested, and walked off to tlie next table. The cards were dealt, and in three minutes Leoucio's hacienda was his own again, thrown like a ball from one hand to the other. It was glorious play ! " " But this has nothing to do with thee," ventured Isabel. " No," muttered Leon, moodily ; " when ^ventured my hacienda and lost, there was no Antonio to bid me play his and get it back." He looked at Isabel with an air of reproach. She had neither look nor word of reproach for him, yet she felt that a mortal blow had been dealt her. And Leon ? He had laughed, though she knew that the laugh was that of the mocking fiend Despair which possessed him ; and he had bade her go on his behalf to Garcia. She left him in desperation. She knew how utterly fruitless such an appeal would be. It was fruitless. Don Gregorio asked with some scorn in his voice whether Leon thought him as weak as she had been, or as much of a madman as himself when he hail dared the chances of the tables at San Augustin. For him, Garcia, to furnish money to the oft- tried scapegrace would be a folly that would merit the inevitable loss it would bring. Ali of which, though true enough, Don Gregorio repeated with unnecessary vehemence to Leon himself, with the tone of irrepressible satisfaction with which he at last saw humiliated the man who had for so long held such a resistless fascination over his wife. With wonderful self-restraint Leon replied not a word to the cutting irony with which his brother-in-law referred to the mad ambition and foll^' which had led to his losses, CHATA AND CHI NIT A. 159 and with which Gregorio excused himself from further assistiug in the ruin of the Garcia family, — reminding the gamester that though he had thrown away the key to fortune which he had taken from his sister's hand, he had still youth, a sword, and a subtle mind, any one of which should be able Xo provide him a living. " That is true," replied Leon, with a dangerous light in his half-closed eyes. "Thanks for the reminder, my brother. What is the old saying? 'A hungry man dis- covers more than a thousand wise men.'" They both laughed. It was not likely that Leon's pov- erty would ever reach the point of actual want. There at the hacienda was his home when he cared for it ; but as for money, — why as Don Gregorio had said, the key to fortune was thrown away, and it seemed unlikely the unfortunate loser would ever recover it. Almost on the same day on which Leon Vall6 had told his sister of his fatal hardihood at the feast of San Augustin, there arrived, with assurances of the profound respect of Seiior Fernandez and his daughter, the jewels and other rich gifts wliich Dolores had accepted as the betrothed of Leon. With deep Indignation that his explanations and protestations had been rejected, but with a pride which prevented the frantic remonstrances which rushed to his lips from passing beyond them, Leon received these proofs of his dismissal, which in a few days was rendered final by the news that the beautiful Dolores had married a wealthier and perhaps even more ardent suitor, whom the insolence and mockery of Fate had pro- vided in the person of the lucky winner of San Lazaro. Even Don Gregorio felt his heart burn with the natural chagrin of family pride, and Isabel would have turned with some sympathy toward the brother of whom, uncon- sciously to herself, she could no longer make a hero. ' Strangely enough, his aspect as a suppliant for her hus- band's bounty had disrobed him of the glamour through which she had always beheld him. When she herself was powerless to minister to him, he was no longer a prince claiming tribute, but the undignified dependent whom she blushed to see lounging in sullen idleness in her husband's house. Yet as lias Ijeen said, when word of the marriage of Dolores Fernandez reached them, they would have , ■M,^1f;>. ' W'' '% 160 CHATA AND CHI NIT A. m t w m given him sympathy ; but lie had received the news first, and collecting a half-dozen followers had mounted and ridden madly away. The horses they rode were Don Gregorio's yet Leon had gone without a word of excuse or farewell. Isabel had no opportunity to tell him that she had no more money to give him ; and in her distress at supposing him penniless it was an immense relief to her to find that he had retained in his possession the jewels that the father of Dolores had returned to him. He would at least not be without resource. But soon a strange tale reached her. The jewels torn from their settings, the stones in fragments, the whole crushed into an utterly worthless mass, so far as human strength and ingenuity could accomplish it, had been found upon the pillow of the bride. The husband was jealously frantic that her sanctuary had been invaded ; the bride was hysterically alarmed, yet flattered at this J roof of her lover's passion; and the entire community were for days on the qui vive for further developments in this drama of love. But none came, and soon Leon Valla's name was heard of as one of the guerillas of the Texan war, where he fought for — it was not to be said under — Santa Anna ; and ere many months his name rang from one end of the republic to the other, — the synonym of gallant daring, which in a less exciting time might have been called ferocious bloodthirstiness. Isabel quailed as she heard the wild tales told of him ; but Don Gregorio shrugged his shoulders and said, " Thank Heaven he turned soldier rather than brigand ! " The chief difference between the two in those days was in name; but that meant much in sentiment. ; XXT. Leon Vaix^ had not parted from his sister in declared hostility, yet months passed before she heard directly from him. But this was not to be wondered at, as letters were necessarily sent by private carriers, and it was not to be expected that in the adventurous excitement of his life he should pause to send a mere salutation over leagues of desolate country. Meanwhile the prevailing anarchy of the time crept closer and closer to the hacienda limits. Bandits gathered in the mountains and ravaged the outlying villages, driving off flocks of sheep or herds of cattle, lassoing the finest horses, and mocking the futile efforts of the country people to guard their property. The name of one Juan Planillos became a terror in every household ; yet one by one the younger men stole away to strengthen the number of his followers and share the wild excitement of the bandit life, rather than to wait patiently at home to be drafted into the ranks of some political chieftain whose career raiseu little enthusiasm, and whose political creed was as obscure as his origin. " The memory is confused," says an historian, "by the plans and pronunciamientos of that time. Men changed ideas at each step, and defended to-day what they had attacked yesterday. Parties triumphed and fell at every turn." The form of government was as change- able as a kaleidoscope, and only the brigand and guerilla seemed immutable. Whatever the politics of the day, their motto was plunder and rapine ; and their deeds, so brilliant, so unforeseeable, offered an irresistible attraction to the restless spirits of that revolutionary epoch. Though Dofia Isabel Garcia, like all others, was imbued with the military ardor of the time, the brilliant reputation that her brother was winning in distant fields, though in harmony with her own political opinions, horrified rather than dazzled her. She shuddered as she heard his name 11 pj 162 CHATA AND CHINITA. i: -■ (!l mentioned in the same breath with that of the remorseless Valdez, or the crafty and bloody Planillos ; 3'et she was glad to believe his incentive was patriotism rather than p} under, and when at last a messenger from him reached her with the same old cry for " Money ! money ! money ! " she responded ,.ith a heaping handful of gold, — all she had been able to accumulate in the few months of his ab- sence. Don Gregorio however, vexed by recent losses and harassed by constant raids from the mountain brig- ands, sent a refusal that was worded almost like a curse ; and ashamed of her brother, annoyed by n,nd yet sympathiz- ing with her husband. Dona Isabel felt her heart sink like lead in her bosom, and for the first time her superb health showed signs of yielding to the severe mental strain to which she had been so long subjected. June had come again ; the rainy season would soon be- gin, and Don Gregorio, suddenly thinking that the change would benefit his wife, suggested that they should pass some months in the city. The roads were threatened by highwaymen, yet Isabel was glad to go, and even to incur the novelty of danger. Her travelling carriage was luxu- rious, and with her little girls immediately under her own eye, with an occasional glimpse of the four-year-old Nor- berto riding proudly at his father's side in the midst of the numerous escort of picked men, she felt an exhilaration both of body and mind to which she had long been a stranger. The travelling was necessarily slow, for the roads were excessively rough, and the paroy had at sunset of the first day scarcely left the limits of the hacienda and entered the defile which led to the deeper canons of the mountains, wh'jrein upon the morrow they anticipated the necessity of exercising a double vigilance. Not a creature had been seen for hours ; the mountains with their straggling clumps of cacti and blackened, stunted palms seemed absolutely bereft of animal life, except when occasionally a lizard glided swiftly over a rock, or a snake rustled through the dry and crackling lierbage. Caution seemtd absurd in such a place where there was scarce a cleft for conceal- ment, yet the party drew nearer together, and the men looked to their arms as the cliflTs became closer on either side and so precipitous that it seemed as though a goat could scarcely have scaled them. CHATA AND CHINITA. 163 They had passed nearly the entire length of this caflon, and the nervous tension that had held the whole party silent and upon the alert was gradually yielding to the glimpse of more open country which lay bej'ond, and on which they had planned to camp for the night, when sud- denly the whole country seemed alive with men. They blocked the way, backward and forward ; they hung from the cliffs ; they bounded from rock to rock, on foot and on horse, the horses as agile as the men. Amid the tumult one man seemed ubiquitous. All eyes followed him, yet not one cai.;„ht sight of his face ; the striped jorongo thrown over shoulders and face formed an impenetrable disguise, such as the noted guerilla chief of the mountains was wont to wear. Suddenly there was a cry of " Planil- los ! Planillos ! " amid the confusion of angry voices, of curses, and the clanking of sabres and echo of pistol-shots. T3on Gregorio found himself driven against the rocks, a Bword-point at his throat, a pistol pressed to his temple, his own smoking weapon in his hand. Immediately the shouts ceased, and before the smoke which had filled the gorge had cleared, the travellers found themselves alone, with two or three dead men obstructing the road. Don Gregorio had barely time to notice them, or the blank faces of his men staring bewildered at one another, when a cry from Dona Isabel recalled him to his senses, and he saw her rushing wildly from group to group. In an instant he was at her side. " Norberto! where is Norberto?" bt th demanded wildly, and some of the men who had caught the name began to force their horses up the almost inaccessible cliffs, and to gallop up or down the cafion in a confused pursuit of the vanished enemy. Don Gregorio alone retained his presence of mind ; though night was closing in and the horses were wearied by a day's travel, not a moment was lost in dispatching couriers to the city for armed police and to the hacienda for fresh men and horses, and the return to Tres Hermanos was immediately begun. Sometime during the morning hours they were met by a party from the hacienda, and put- ting himself at the head of his retainers Don Gregorio led them in search of his son, while Dona Isabel in a state bor- dering upon distraction proceeded to her desolated home. fii J .' ,' 'Hi Ulf i Br Jf'.' w ilh i!ii ■.jiEHi.., r f 1G4 CHATA AND CHINITA. ITcr first act was to send a courier to her brother. No one knew the mountains as he did, and in her terrible plight she was certain he would not fail her. But her haste was needless, for information reached him from some other source, and within a few days he was at the head of a party of valiant Garcias, who had hastened from far and near to the rescue of their young kinsman. In all the country round the abduction jf Norberto Garcia was called "the abduction by enchanters," — so sudden had been the attack, so complete the disappear- ance of the victim. Beyond the immediate scene no trace remained of the act, — it seemed that the very earth must have opened to swallow the perpetrators ; and yet day by day proofs of their existence were found in letters left upon the very saddle crossed by the father, or upon the pillow wet with the tears of the mother, demanding ransom which each day became more exorbitant, accompanied by threats more and more ingenious and horrible. Such seizures, though rare, were by no means unpre- cedented, and such threats had been proved to be only too likel}' to be fulfilled. As daj'S went by the agony of the pa- rents became unbearable, and Don Gregorio's early reso- lution to spend a fortune in the pursuit and punishment of the robbers rather than comply with their demands, and thus lend encouragement to similar outrages, began to yield before the imminent danger to the life of his son ; and to Doiia Isabel it seemed a cruel mockery that her brother and the young Garcias should urge him to further exertion and postponement of the inevitable moment when he must accede to the imperious demands of the outlaws. The family were one evening discussing again the momentous and constantly agitated question, when Dona Fcliz appeared among them with starting eyes and pallid chocks, bidding Don Gregorio go to his wife, from whose nerveless hand she had wrested a paper, which Leon seized and opened as the excited woman held it toward him. Don Gregorio turned back at his brother-in-law's exclamation, and beheld upon his outstretched hand a lock of soft brown hair, evidently that of a child. It had been severed from the head by a bloody knife. It was a mute threat, yet they understood it but too well. Every man there sprang to his feet with a groan or an CHATA AND CHINITA. 1G5 oath. Such a threat they remembered had been sent to the parents the very day before tlie infant Ranulfo Ortega liad been found dead not a hundred yards from his fa- ther's door. Did this mean also that the last demand for ransom had been made, and the patience of Norberto's abductors was exhausted? Don Gregorio clasped his hands over his eyes, and reeled against the wall. Leon sprang to his feet, pale to his lips, his eyes blazing. Julian Garcia picked up the hair which had fallen from Leon's hand ; the others stood grouped in horrified expectancy. Dona Feliz stood for a moment looking at them with lofty courage and determination upon her face. " What," she cried, " is this a time for hesitation? The money must be paid, the child's life saved. Vengeance can wait ! " She spoke with a tire that thrilled them, and though they spoke but of the ransom, it was the word "vengeance" that rang in their ears, and steeled Don Gregorio to the terrible task that awaited him. That night the quaint hiding-places of the vast hacienda were ransacked, and many a hoard of coin was extracted from the deep corners of the walls, and the depths of half- ruinous wells. Dona Isabel saw treasures of whose exist- ence she had never heard before, but had perhaps vaguely suspected ; for through the long j^ears of anarchy the Garcias had become expert in secreting such surplus wealth as they desired to keep within reach. Large as was the sum brought to light, it barely sufficed to meet the demands of the robbers ; yet it was a question how such a weight of coin was to be conveyed by one person to the spot indicated for the payment of the ransom and delivery of the child, — for it had been urgently insisted upon that but one man should go into the very stronghold of the bandits. At daybreak, having refused the offer of Leon Valle to go in his stead, Don Gregorio mounted his horse and set out on his mission. He knew well the place appointed, for he had been in his youth an adventurous mountaineer, and more than once had penetrated the deep gorge into which, late in the afternoon, he descended, bearing with him the gold and silver. As he entered the " Zahuan del Infierno " he shuddered. Not ten days before he had passed ' ■v\ h JS' I ti ' '1 illJ i "Ti I'ff I Ui- t W' ^. i IGG CIIATA AND CHINITA. throu.'^h it, followed by a dozen trusty followers, in Penrch of his child, and had discovered no trace of hin.; : now he was alone, weighted with treasure, suflicient sensibly to retard his movements and render him a rich prize for the outlaws he had gone to meet. Once he fancied he heard a step behind him ; doubtless he was shadowed by those who would take his life without a moment's hesitation. Yet he pressed on, obliged to leave his horse and proceed on foot, for at times the cliffs were so close together that a man could barely force his way between them. Just as the last rays of daylight pierced the gloomy abyss, at a sudden turn in the narrowest part of the gorge Don Gregorio saw standing two armed men, placed in such a position that the head of one overtopped that of the other, while the features of both were shadowed though made the more forbidding by heav}' black beards, which it occurred to him later were probably false and worn for the purpose of disguise. At the feet of the foremost was placed a child ; and though he restrained the cry that rose to his lips, the tortured father recognized in him his son, — but so emaciated, so deathly pale, with such wild, startled eyes, gazing like a hunted creature before him, yet seeing nothing, that he could scarcely credit it was the same beautiful, sensitive, highly-strung Nor- berto who had been wrested from him but a short month before. At the sight the father felt an almost irresistible impulse to precipitate himself upon those fiends who thus dared to mock him ; but even had his hands been free to grasp the pistol in his belt, to have done so would have been to bring upon himself certain death. As it was he could but look with blind rage from the bags of coin he carried to the brigands who stood like statues, tht right hand of the foremost laid upon the throat of the trembling boy. Even in that desperate moment Don Gregorio noticed that the hand was whiter and more slender than the hands of com- mon men are wont to be ; the nails were well formed and well kept, though there was a bruise or mark on the second one, as thougli it had met some recent injury. He was not conscious at the time that he noticed this, but it came to him afterward. The Ibremost man did not speak ; it was the other who in a soft voice, as evenly modulated as though CHATA AND CHINITA. 167 '»mo« to words of purest courtesy, bade the SeSor Garcia wel« and thanked him for his prompt appearance. " Let us dispense with compliments," said Don Gre- gorio, husiiily. *' Here is the money you have demanded for my child. I know something of the honor of bandits, and as you can gain nothing by falsifying your word, I have chosen to trust in it. Here am I, alone with the gold," an^ he poured it out on the rock at the child's feet, — " count it if you will ; " and he put out his hand and laid it upon the child's shoulder. As he did so his hand touched the brigand's, • .d both started, glaring like at that moment Nor- heap of coin and into two tigers before they spring • I berto bounded over the sctter^x. his father's arms. As he felt that slight form within his grasp the father reeled, and his sight failed h Ji ; a voice presently recalled him to his senses, and £ incing up he saw the two men still standing motionless.., with their pistols levelled upon him and the child. " The Sefior will find it best to withdraw backward," said the bandit ; '' there is not space here for me to have the honor of passing and leading the way, and it is even too narrow for your grace to turn. You will find your horse at the entrance to the gorge ; it has been well cared for. Adios, Senor, and may every felicity attend this fortunate termination of our negotiations." " I doubt not there will," cried Don Gregorio, though in a voice of perfect politeness, " for I swear to you I will unearth the villains who have tortured and robbed me, and give myself a moment of exquisite joy with every drop of life-blood I slowly wring from them. You have my gold, and I have my child, and now — Vengeance ! " Gregorio Garcia knew so well the peculiar ideas of honor among bandits as well as the spirit of his countrymen that perhaps he was assured that no immediate risk would fol- low this proclamation. The word "vengeance" rang from cliff to cliff, yet the bandits only smiled mockingly and bowed, waving a hand in token of farewell, as with what haste he might he withdrew. A turn in the gorge soon hid them from his sight, and staggering through the darkness, he hastened on with his precious burden, feeling that Norberto had fainted in his arms. uv \l^. I: Iw m- i. i I i: 1G8 CHATA AND CHINITA. It waft near midnight wlicn Don Grogorio reached the hacienda, and needless is it to attempt to describe the joy of the mother at sight of her child, though Norberto, after one faint cry of recognition, laid his head upon her breast with a long shuddering sigh, which warned her that his strength and courage had been so overtaxed that they were, perhaps, destroyed forever. As days passed, it seemed evident that the njind of the boy was suffering from the shock. The male relatives who during the absence of Don Gregorio had mostly dispersed to find, manlike, some distraction a-field, returned one by one to embrace him ; but he turned from each with un- reasoning fear and aversion, unable to distinguish be- tween them and the strangers in whose hands he had been held a prisoner. At some of them he gazed as if fasci- nated, especially at his Uncle Leon ; and when by any chance the latter touched him he would burst into ago- nizing wails, which ceased only when his father held him closely in his arms, whispering words of affection and encouragement. Before many days it became evident that Norberto was dying. There was a constant, low, shuddering cry upon his lips, "He will kiU me! — he wiU kill me if I tell!" and the horrified father and mother became convinced that Norberto knew at least one of his captors, and that deadly fear alone prevented him from uttering the name. They en- treated him in vain ; and one night the end of the tortured life drew near, and Norberto's wailing cry was still. The family was alone, except for the presence of Leon Vallc and a young cousin, Doctor Genaro Calderon, one of the numerous family connections ; and those, with the Padre Francisco and Doiia Feliz, were gathered around the bed of the dying child. The father in an agony of grief and vengeful despair stood at the head, and Doiia Isabel, ghostlike and haggard from her long suspense and watching, was on her knees at the side, her eyes fixed >ipon the face of the child, when suddenly he opened his eyes in a wild stare upon Leon Valle, who stood near the foot of the bed, and faintly, slowly articulated the same agonizing 3ry, " He will kill me if I tell ! " At that moment, as if by an irresistible impulse, Leon stretched out his hand and placed a finger on the lips of CI [AT A AND CIIINITA. IGU the (lying boy. The eyes of Don Grcgorio followed it; find then like a thunderbolt hurled through space he threw himself upon his brother-in-law, grai)pUng his throat with a deathlike grasp. lie had recognized the bruise upon the second finger of the white hand, — he had recognized the very hand. Recalled to life by the excitement of the moment, Norberto started up and exclaimed in a loud shrill voice, '' Take him away ! He cut my hair with his bloody knife ! Oh, Uncle Leon, will you kill me ? " and fell back in the death agony, — the agony that only tlio priest witnessed, for even Isabel turned to the mortal combat waged between her husband and her brother. Don Gregorio was unarmed, b"t Leon had managed to draw a knife from his belt. The murderous dagger was poised for a blow, when a woman rushed between the combatants ; Don Gregorio was flung bleeding upon the bed, Doiia Feliz hurled into a corner of the apartment the dagger which she had grasped with her naked hand, and Leon Vallo rushed like a madman from the room. Before he could escape, however, he was seized, pinioned, and thrust like a wild beast into one of the solid stone rooms of the building. Don Gregorio was held by main force from accomplishing his purpose of taking the life of the unnatural bandit ere the bolts were shot upon him. He however gave immediate orders that messengers be de- spatched in quest of police ; but by some misapprehension or intentional delay on the part of the administrador these messengers were detained till dawn, and just as they were about to set forth, a cry went through the house that the prisoner had escaped. Gregorio Garcia rushed to the room, glanced in with wild, bloodshot eyes, and then with unrestrainable fury, sought out his wife, and grasping her arm cried in a voice us full of horror as of rage, "Traitress! You have set IVoe the murderer of your child ! " She threw herself on her knees at his feet, — he never knew with what purpose, whether to confess her weakness or declare ler innocence, — for Dona Feliz cast herself between them. " It was 1 who set him free ! " she exclaimed. *' I love the Garcias too well to suffer them to be made a mockery of by the false mercy of such laws us ours. Think you i II' ill wi •X- A\ M'ii'. F ¥■ *"^ 170 CHATA AND CHINITA. tlio idol of tho bandits would bo sacrificed for such a triflo as a child's life? And you, Gregorio Garcia, would you, this fury passed, avenge your injuries in the blood of your wife's brother, robber and murderer though he be? Leon has sworn to mo to hide himself forever from the family he has disgraced, under another name in another land. Ho has the brand of Cain upon his brow, — God will surely bring his doom upon him ! " Dofia Fellz spoko like a prophetess. The superb assur- ance upon which she had acted, setting aside all rights of man and relegating vengeance to tho Lord, did more to reconcile Don Gregorio to the escape of his enemy tlian all further reflection, decisive though it was in convincing him that in the disordered and anarchical state of the country, the laws would have shielded rather than pun- ished an offender so popular as was Leon Vollt^. There was perhaps, too, a comfort in the hidden hope of per- sonal vengeance with which ho waited long months to learn the retreat of the man who had done him such foul wrong. Meanwhile the exact facts of the case were never known abroad ; and when at last it was rumored that Leon Vallu had been shot by a rival guerilla chief and hung to a tree placarded as a traitor and robber, there were few to doubt the story, or to make more than a passing comment on the hard necessities of war. There seemed so much poetic justice in it, that Gregorio Garcia, who was near tho end of the disease contracted through exposure and mental agony, did not for a moment doubt it, and died almost content. Indeed, the circumstances were so minutely de- tailed by a servant who had followed Leon in his adven- turous career and who dared to face the family in order to prove the death, that even Doila Isabel herself f'id not question it until long months afterward, when a potty scandal stole through the land. The lady of San Lazaro had disappeared, — whether of her own free will, whether in madness she had strayed, or whether she had been kidnapped, none could conjecture. No demand for ran- som came, no tidings were ever heard of the peerlessly beautiful Dolores. It was after that time that Dona Isabel began to demand tidings of all who came to her door, and a suspicion en- C/IATA AND CHINITA. 171 tcrcd her mind which bocamc a certainty upon tho night our story opened, but which no subsecjucnt event hud tended to confirm during the years that had passed since then. This brief relation may serve to explain the strange emotions and experiences that made Dofla Isabel wluit her full womanhood found her, and which with otiier events of her later life rendered possible and natural the bitter suspense and fear that held her tho long night through, a watcher at the door of one who, as others had done, might find a means to pierce her heart and wound her pride, if not to awaken her deep and passionate affections. • i .It. \\\ lever known t Leon Vallu ang to a tree few to doubt comment on > much poetic near the end J and mental [ died almost minutely de- in his adven- ily in order to -rself '^id not when a petty f San Lazaro 5 will, whether she had been mand for ran- the peerlessly m XXII. ""I ha hi, m' I ?"V i 'Hii'i'id ::*. CiiiNiTA woke with a confused sensation of haste, and in the dim light discovered with a momentary surprise that she was in one of the chambers of tlie great house. Her first clear remembrance was that there was to be a wedding in the village that day, and that she must hasten to help array the bride, her old pla3'mate Juana, — a girl scarce older than herself, but who as the daughter of the silver- smith held some pretentions to superior gentility among the village folk. She wondered that she was not in the hut with Floreneia and the children, and raised herself upon one arm to peer through the gloom at the figure upon the bed ; then suddenly sprang to her feet with an exclama- tion. The sight of the wounded man brought to memory the train of events connected with his appearance there. The 3'oung man was asleep, but evon if he had been awake and in diro need of aid, Chinita would not have paused an instant ; for it flap^ied into her mind that she must see and speak to Tic Reyes before he left. He had told her so little — nothing that she could separate as a tangible fact. She must know more. Surely it was early stilly — she never slept after daybreak ; he would not yet be gone. Yet in quick apprehension, which burst forth in an irate in- terjection at her tardy awakening, she ran out into the court. The morning light was beaming there unmistakably, though no ray of sunlight penetrated it ; and not a creature was stirring, and still hopeful the young girl hurried to the outer court. The mingled sounds of the movements of men and horses greeted her ear. Although she was late, Tio Reyes perhaps was still there. Vain hope ! One glance around the great couri showed her that he whom she sought was gone. With an angry little cry, which made more than one muleteer turn to look at her with, '* What has happened to CHATA AND CHTNTTA. 173 ui thoc ? " on his lips, Chinita sped across the court, and caught the arm of Pedro, who was standing dejectedly outside the great gate. He crossed himself as she appeared, and his face lighted up, then clouded again as she cried, " Where are the soldiers ? When did they go ? Why did no one awaken me?" The ma'^ pointed with a disdainful gesture across the plain. Florencia was standing at the door of her hut, calling in a rage to a neighbor that those worthless vaga- ])ond8 had robbed her of her last handful of toasted corn ; and Pedro began to explain to Chinita in his slow way that tlic good friends of the night before had naturally enough demanded something from the housewives upon which to breakfast, and that instead of giving it to them quietly, and thanking the Virgin that after drinking the soup they had not taken the pot, the foolish women must needs scold and bewail, as though soldiers should be saints and live on air, and as if this was the first raid that ever had been heard of, instead of a mere frolic, very different from that of the month before, when the forces of the clergy had carried off a thousand bushels of maize, without as much as a " God repay you." Chinita gazed eagerly toward the east, and presently burst into passionate tears. The sun, which a moment before had shown a tiny red disk above the hills, flooded the plain with light, and dazzled her vision. Through it she saw some rapidly moving figures. The man she sought was already miles away. Silently but bitterly she reproached herself. She had slept like an insensate lump, and suffered to escape her the man who could have told licr so much, whom she would have forced to speak. She could, as her eyes became accustomed to the light, distinguish his very figure in the clear atmosphere ; and yet he and all she would have learned were so far awaj'. " What wouldst thou? " demanded Pedro, gruflrty ; "the soldiers have carried ofl' nothing of thine ! Heaven fore- fend ! Go to the hut and drink the atol6 if there is any left, and give God the thanks ! " The broad daylight had cleared the mind of Pedro of all the sentimental fears of the night. The glamour had passed away ; there stood Chinita with the old familiar ragged clothing upon her, to be talked with, caressed it 'm ^ m vHl ii rtJ ^m 174 CHATA AND CHINITA. f'li, ^if. t m?r"***'*>- I • l" . (Ji •! i| \l ■ 1; ijl'' ■ H might be, certainly scolded with the mock severity of old. Yes, it was the same fiery, uncertain, irascible Chinita, who, clearing her eyes of their unusual tears with a back- ward sweep of her small brown hand, ran down the hill, ■ — not to the hut where Florencia stood with the water-jar, beckoning her, but in quite another direction, to join the little crowd of sympathizing friends who were gathered at the door of the silversmith. Pep6 was standing there with a gayly caparisoned don- key, destined to bear the 7iovia to the village some eight miles distant, where the lazy priest who divided his time between the sinners of that point and Tres Hermanos, had consented to earn a royal fee by uniting two poor peasants in holy matrimony. " It is but for once," Gabriel had hopefully remarked ; "and though one runs in debt for the wedding, one can hold one's head above one's neighbors, to say nothing of dying in peace, if a bull's horn finds its way some unlucky day between one's ribs." Gabriel was a man who honored the proprieties, and Juana was well pleased with the good fortune that had awarded her to him ; though he was cwice her age, and had a squint which made ludicrous his most amorous glances. '' What has happened?" cried Pep6 in a disappointed tone, as Chinita darted past him. "Didst thou not say thou wouldst ride with Juana ? She has been waiting for thee this half hour. The novio will be on his way before her if we tarry longer, and thou knowest what that por- tends. The impatient lover becomes the husband never appeased ! the wife shall wait many a day for him." " Bah !" returned Chinita, "if Juana were of my mind the novio would wait so long that her turn to play at 2>adenc%a would never arrive." " Go to ! " cried a woman who stood near, " who would ha\ e imagined thou wouldst be so envious, Chinita ; and thou but a child j'et ? But thou art one that hast been brought up between cotton, and expectest the soft places all t^v fife." lavvr ! " answered Chinita. " Speak of what thou knowest, Senora Goraesinda ; and thou, Pep(§, cease making eyes at me. Thinkest thou I have nothing better to do than to ride after Juana to see her married to yon black giant of a vaquero, who will manage his wife as he does CHATA AND CHINITA. 175 his hor^s, — with a thong ? I tell thee as I tell her, he is not worth the beating she got when he asked for her ! " "4^y, Seiiora, " cried Gomesinda, shrilly, "was ever such r-alk from the mouth of a modest girl? What could a reasonable father and mother do for a girl when a man asks her in marriage ? It is plain she must have played somc! tricks of our Seiiora Madre Eva to have beguiled him. Ay, but I remember my mother flailed me black and blue when Jos6 asked for me. I warrant you I screamed so hard the whole neighborhood knew she was doing the lionorable part by me. Thank Heaven, I knew what was proper as well as another, and if I had given the man a glance from the corner of my eyes, I was willing my shoulders should suffer for it. One may tell of it when one is the mother of ten children." During this harangue, Chinita had slipped by her, and darted into the hut. She threw her arms around the ex- pectant bride, who dressed in the stiffest of starched skirts, the upper one of which was of flowered pink muslin, stood waiting the finishing touches of her sponsor. " What, thou art not read}'^? " cried Juana in a dejected tone, surveying Chinita with disapproving eyes. " Gabriel has twice sent messages that the sun has risen, and that the Seiior Priest likes not to be kept long fasting, and thou knowest, as the priest sings the sacristan answers." " Ay," said Chinita, laughing, " a lesson in patience will be good for both the priest and thy Gabriel ; but it will bode thee ill if he learns it at the tavern, as I saw liira doing just now. Trul}^ Juana, thou must go without me. I am in no humor to go so far on thy ambling donkej' ; " and she drew herself up with an air of hauteur, which did not escape the observant eye of the bride, who said, with a reproachful look, — '' What have I done ? Did I ever give thee a sharp word, Chinita?" For answer, Chinita threw her arms around the girl's neck ; for she was really fond of Juana, who had ever been a gentle girl, and had borne her perverse humors with a sort ot admiring patience which had flattered and won the heart of the wayward one. Completely mollified, Juana pressed her cheek against Chinita's shoulder, for she had turned her face away, and said, " But thou wilt 11 ! I i'. ridles and necklaces of horse- hair, brightened with cortls of red or blue, and with pan- niers covered with well-trimmed sheepskins. As the Sen- ora Madrina said, " Ishe who should ride upon them would think herself on cushions of down." On the most lux- urious of these rural ihrones Juana was raised, and upon the others her mother and a number of her female friends, mostly in pairs, were accommodated ; and with many in- junctions from the bystanders to hasten, the bridal party vv jre at last dismissed upon their way. Laughing and chattering, the women dispersed to their huts to grind a fresh stint of maize to replace the tortillar and atole that had been carried away b}'^ the soldiers ; but Chinita sat down at the door of the adobe hut thus tem- porarily deserted, and with a smile of derision upon her lips watched the group of men congregated around the village shop. The bridegroom, a middle-aged man, with a dark face deeply imbrowned by the sun and seamed with scars (for ho had b,. l)rows 'vcrc drawn to5j;ctlicr in a spasm o^ rage. This was Elvira, a 3'Oiin«j; widow, to whom tiu Lranger was plighted, tiiid who ill tliG utter abuiidoiimori. r«' hor lover to the dance with another younger and I'airer than hcrsoH', found a fair excuse for the nuid jealousy that surged through heart and brain, and convulsed her features. But there was none to notice her ; all eyes were bent uj)on tlic dancers, when a sudden turn brought them both before the infuriated woman. Seizing a knife from the belt of the unconscious Pedro, she sprang toward Chinita, with intent to wreak the usual vengeance of the jealous countr}'- woman b}' slashuig her across the cheek or mouth, and thus destroying her beaut}' forever. But quick as a flash Pepe, the derided but faithful, threw himself between them, receiving the blow in his arm ; but siiouting and gesticulating with pain, he made ridiculous a scene which might have been heroic. This was no uncommon incident at such gatherings, and roused more laughter than disma}'. The dance suddenly ceased. Chinita, panting with exertion, threw herself with a cry for protection upon Pedro, who in rage had involun- tarily grasped for the missing knife that had so nearly ac- complished so foul a work ; and Benito, recalled to his al- legiance by this undoubted proof of his Elvira's devotion, turned to her with words of mingled reproach and endear- ment. Pepe, in spite of his outciy, was quite unnoticed in the general excitement until his sister the bride, forgetting her dignity, forced her way through the crowd and bound her large lace handkerchief over the bleeding wound. " Thou shalt come home ! " said Pedro, resolutely, as Chinita struggled in his grasp, with a half defined intention of assailing the woman who had assaulted her, and who was being led sobbing away In* her repentant lover. '"Whai will the Senora think of thee?" he added in a whisper. " She is on her balcony." Chinita glanced up. She could see nothing against the great blank wall that loomed in the near distance, but a sensation of acute shame overcame her. She suddenly lememliered that which in her brief delirium she had for- gotten. She turned fi'om the throng as though they had been serpents, and flod up the path to the gale, dash- The postern inir aijrainst CD it breathless. was open. Siie fe full ui lookiuj vestibi eved w " " VV] like a ( a grip < wound: God ! self to 1 wonder give hei will her " Wh girl by t such ca?; She thrc who 8tO( white, 3'( crated, si ciuls to colorless] " before TJie gj each oth| the way erect anj but his gave wai l^ass, loc Pedro a| moveme^ eyes of nianifestl Doiia Fc slie had for use. ft conimc frustrate] He be CIIATA AND CIIINITA. 183 Slio fclV for It with hor hands and darted throu Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 I/a 184 CHATA AND CHINITA. " Have I done well, Dona Feliz?" he queried in a broken voice. ''Alas! I can do no more. You see how blood flows to blood, as the brooks turn to the river. " Feliz started. " Strange ! strange ! " she muttered. She turned upon Pedro a glance of mingled pitj' and deprecation. She seemed about to say more, but paused. " Thou art a good man, Pedro," she presently whispered. " Thou hast done a greater work than thou guessest. Be content. Thou knowest the child's nature, — Chinita will not suffer with Dona Isabel ; but she who thrust from her bosom the dove will perchance warm the adder into life." '•No, no!" cried the man, vehemently. "Cruel, bit- ter woman ! Chinita hath been my child, and though she turn from me I will hear no evil of her. I will live or die for her ! " The unwonted outburst ended in a sob, and before he could speak again, DoHa Feliz had passed across the court, but — strange condescension ! — she had seized his hand and pressed it to her lips, in irresistible homage to a devotion as pure and unselfish as that of the loftiest knight who ever drew sword in the cause of helpless innocence. Pedro turned to his alcove dazed, stunned. To him it was as if a star should leave its place in heaven to touch the vilest clod upon the highway. A very miracle ! XXIII. Although Dona Rita had left her home upon a sad errand, and her tears flowed fast when on embracing her mother she beheld upon her countenance the shadow of death, that first startling impression vanquished, she allowed herself to be deceived % the fitful brightness that hovers over the consumptive ; and as days passed on she felt a pleased sense of freedom and relaxation, and her return to her early home, which had been undertaken as a pilgrimage, assumed much of the character of an ordinary visit of pleasure. Dona Rita was a member of a large family, of whom most had married ; so that her parents, relieved from cares that had long pressed upon them, were enabled to live in the little town of El Toro with an ease and comfort from which in their narrow circumstances the}^ had necessarily been debarred while tha children were dependent. They were, strictly speaking, people of the class known as medio pelo, or " the half-clothed order," as far below the aris- tocrat as above the plebeian ; and Rita Farias had been thought to have risen greatly in life when she became the wife of Rafael Sanchez, though he was then but a clerk, the son of the administrador of Tres Hermanos, with no prospect of succeeding soon to his honors. But as the pious neighbors said when they heard of the early death of the bridegroom's father, "God blessed her with both hands," of which one held marriage, and the other death ; so Dona Rita was accustomed when she at rare intervals visited her parents to be looked upon with ever increasing respect. Such «ilken skirts and rebosos as she wore were seldom seen within the quiet precincts of El Toro. Dona Rita herself was not quite clear upon the point as to whether or not her native place could be considered to rival " the City," as Mexico was called par excellence, or even Guadalajara, which she had heard was a labyrintli of palaces ; but Rosario who had seen El Toro declared to ■• 1 T fr ■ n i i I 'Ml ^' ■ 1 lit'! i - |il M ■1 ■ 1 • ' ■1i;i> '' »(■• f fj 'il.; 18G CHATA AND CIIINITA. Chata that nothing could be finer, and Chata herst^lf was (]iiite convinced of that when opening her ej'cs suddenly ui)on the clear moonlight night on which the diligence stui)t)ed before the door of the inn, she first looked out upon the plaza. The two girls shivered a little in their sudden awakening, as, scarcely knowing how, they were lifted from the dili- gence and stood upon their feet -••t the door of the inn, with an injunction to watch tlie basket, the five parcels tied in paper or towels, the drinking-gourd, the bottle of claret, and the young parrot which their mother had brought with her as a suitable gift to her declining relative. With habitual obedience they did as they were bid, more than once rescuing a parcel from the long, skinn}' claw of a blear-ej'ed hag, who crouched in the shadow of the wall whining for alms, while at the same time the}' cast their admiring glances at the really beautiful church upon which the white rays of the moonlight streamed, converting it for the nonce into a symmetrical pile of virgin snow or spotless alabaster. The priest's house, a long low building with numerous barred windows, stood on one side of it, while an angle of the square was formed by a mass of buildings, the frowning walls of which were apparently unpierced by door or window. This was a convent. Later the children learned to know well the gardens it enclosed, and also the taste of the wonderful confections the sweet-faced sisters made. The other buildings seemed poor and small in comparison to those, with the exception of the inn which rose gloomily behind them, a solitary rush-light burning palely in the yawning vestibule, and the torches tlaming in the court- yard, wliore benighted travellers were loudly bargaining for lodgings, — no hope of supper presenting itself at that late hour. While Rosario and Chata were noticing these things with wide-open eyes but with ill suppressed yawns, Don Rafael and Dona Rita were roturning the salutations of the con- course of friends who had come to meet them ; and as soon as the cnildren had been embraced in succession by each aflfectionatc cousin or punctilious friend, they were hurried across the plaza upon the side where the shadows lay black as ink, and with a regretful glance at the seem- ing palaces of marble that rose on either hand were con- given 1 weddinj loft to which w debt to advent most or an of known knew t Tliero niother, was a CJ/ATA AND CHINITA. 187 ducted with much kindly liclp and cheerfulness ovor the rough cobble-stones along a narrow street of single-storied houses, above the walls of which, as if piercing the roofs, rose at intervals tall slender trees, indicating the well- planted courts within. Reaching the more scattered portions of the town where the moonlight shone clear over open fields and walled gardens and orchards, with low adobe houses scattered among them, the}' at last entered, somewhat to the disappointment of Chata, a rather pretentious house which fronted directly upon the street. She was consoled upon the following day to find a garden at the back, where a triangle of pink roses of Castile, larkspur, and red geraniums grew, almost choking with their luxuriance the beds of onions and chiles, and rivalling in glory of color the " manta de la Virgin " or convolvulus, which entirely covered the half-ruinous stone- wall — the gaps filled with tunas and magucys — which divided the cultivated land from the thickets of mesquite and cactus that lay beyond. In the garden the children spent many hours while their mother sat chatting at the side of the invalid, who rallied wonderfull}' as she heard the c. "'ess tales of her daughter's prosperity ; thougb. like many another nouveau riche, Dona Rita had her fancied self-denials to complain of. One of the clerks at the hacienda had a wife whose father had given her a string of pearls as large as cherries upon her wedding day, while she the wife of the administrador was left to blush over the shabby necklace — not a bead of which was bigger than a pea — which Rafael had gone in debt to give her on her wedd. ig da}', and which until the advent of the fortunate Doiia Gomesinda she had thought most beautiful ; and then too her dearest friend had a daughter who would inherit a fine house of three rooms or more in that very town, and money and jewels fit for a hacendado's daughter ; and it was quite possible that she would marry — who could tell ? it might even be an attorney or an official, — while with two to endow (and it was well known that Rafael loved to enjoy as he went), Heaven only knew to what her own flesh and blood were doomed ! There was Rosario for example, — and her own grand- mother, who would not be prejudiced, could judge if there was a prettier or more daintily-bred girl in the whole \^ 188 CHATA AND CIJINITA. >;.((■ in B' .M:'j' town, — what chance was there that an offlcei or an attor- ney, or indeed any one but a clerk, a ranchero, or' a poor shop-keeper, should pretend to their alliance when they could give so poor a dower with their daughter? Dona Rita's e^^es filled with tears, and decidedly she was obliged to compress her lips very tightly to prevent herself from uttering further complaint; for since Rosario had with true Mexican precocity burst into the full glory of young womanhood, this had become a very real grievance to her mother, but one of which, with the awe of the promoted as well as trained daughter and wife, she had seldoui ventured to hint of either to Dona Feliz or Don Rafael. As Rosario had outgrown her sister in physique, so had she also in womanly dignity and apparent force of intellect At least she thought of matters, and even to her admiring mother and female relatives began to give weighty opin- ions upon affairs which either wearied Chata or interested her little. The grandfather, old Don Jose Maria, used to sit under a fig-tree watching with disapproving eyes as Chata darted hither and thither chasing a butterfly or ruby-throated humming-bird, or with her lap full of flowers or neglected sewing pored over some entrancing book lent her by the village priest ( he was a man whose ideas, had he not been the Santo Padre, would have been the last that should have been tolerated in the bringing up of sedate and simple maidens) ; and those same ej'es lighted with pride as they fell on Rosario, beating eggs to a froth to mix with honey and almonds for her grandfather's delectation, or bending over a brasier of ruddy charcoal watching anxiously the cooking of the dulce^ of which already more successes than failures showed her a born artist. Then again sometimes, when Don Jose came in the cool of the evening from the plaza where he had been to buy his jar of pulque or his handful of garlic, he could see his favorite sitting demurely in the upper balcony with her head bent over her needle, listening it is true to that maldito libro^ " that pernicious book," which Chata was reading, but as far as he coiikl see doing no other harm, unless the very fact of a young and prctt}' girl looking into the street was a harm in itself, — but Maria Puris- simal one must not be too rigorous with one's own flesh and blood : like others before Mm and more who will CHATA AND CHINITA. 189 come after, Don Jose Maria forgot in tenderness to the grandchildren the discipline he had thought absolutely necessary with the preceding generation. Chata, too, thought it delightful to sit on the balcony and peer through the wooden railing at the long stretch of sand which led far away where the houses dwindled into a few half-ruinous hovels, where children and dogs throve T' -1 well as the bristling cacti. On Sunday mornings very early, as the mother and daughters came from Mass along that road, they used to be covered with dust thrown up by the scores of plodding donkeys who wended their way to the plaza laden with charcoal and vegetables, eggs and screaming fowls. Dona Rita and her daughters would cover their faces with their rr' osos, and trip daintil}' by, scarcely appeased by the admiring salutations and apolo- gies of the drivers, who pulling off their rough straw hats apostrophized the dust and the scorching sun and the clumsy donkey, " by your license be the name spoken ! " Sometimes more distinguished wayfarers passed over the road and turned into the inn, or rode on to the barracks which lay quite at the opposite extremity of the little town ; for it happened that a company of soldiers were quartered there. They were for the most part well clad in a gay uniform of red and blue, and every man had a profusion of stripes on his sleeves or lace on his cap. No one knew and no one asked whether they were Mochos or Puros, Conservatives or Liberals, — for the nonce they were Ramirez's men. This General had been a Liberal the month before, and was suspected of favoring the clergy at this time. Who could tell ? Who knew what he might be on the morrow ? In the night all cats are gray ; in times of perplexity all soldiers are patriots. The ragged urchins of El Toro threw up their hats for the soldiers of Ramirez, and the discreet householders leaned from their balconies every evening to hear the little band play, and to exult for a brief quarter of an hour in the mild excitement in- separable from a garrison town. Chata and Chinita had delighted in the distant music, and had caught glimpses of the soldiers, as disenchanting as those of the rude grimy structures they had in the moonlight imagined to bo marble palaces ; they had gazed up and down the dusty street and watched the 71 H irti wmm .mmi'mbm'.i "■« Ml^. i'ii II 190 CffATA AND CHINITA. \ noisy ragged urchins play " Toro " with a big-hornoi, long-haired, decrepit goat, with crowds of half*" naked elfin-faced girls as spectators, until they were actually beginning to weary of the attractions of the tcwn and long for home, — when one day the beat of a drum was heard and a squad of soldiers went filing past, T'ith a young olficer riding at their head, who threw a glance so ku'ung at the balcony whore the young girls stood that, whether intended to reach her or not, it pierced the heart of Kosario on the instant. Chata had also noticed the young officer (a slender under- sized 3'oung fellow, with a swarthy loan face and keen black eyes, shaded by a profusely decorated sombrero), but merely as a part of the mimic pageant, — a prominent part, for the trappings of his horse, as well as his own dress, ,• jce covered by that profusion of ornament affected by gallants ■whose capital was invested in the adornment of the person with which they hoped to conquer fortune ; for in those days there were numberless ro3'stering adventurers, who to a modicum of valor united a vanity and assurance which provided maiiy fl. rich girl with a dashing and fickle hus- band, aud his country with a soldier as false to Mexico as to his Oofia Fulana. It \'as just after this that evening after evening Ro- sario would lean pensively over the balcony rail, resist- ing Chata's entreaties to come to the garden where there was no dust to stifle them, and where the dew would soon b .gin to fall upon the larkspurs and roses, and already the wide white cups of the gloria mundo were beginning to fill with perfume. The dew vould chill her, the peifumo sicken her, Rosario said. Chata remonstrated ; Rosario smirked and smiled. Chata grew vexed ; she thought the smile in mockery of her. She need not have lost her sweet temper, — Rosario was thinking of a far different porson. The young captain was m alking slowly down the opposite side of the street ; he had just laid his hand on his heart. It was on him Rosario smiled. Dona Rita, discrcetest of mothors, was not one to leave her daughters to their own devices unwatcbed. It was she who always accompanied them in their walks or to Mass; yet curiously enough th(^ young captain found means to slip a tiny note into Rosario's ready hand, as CHATA AND CHINITA. 191 she knc'lt on the grimy stone floor of the church. Ob- vlouslv, Dona Rita could not be in two phiccs at once, and ajic usually knelt behind Chata, who needed perhaps some maternal supervision at her devotions ; and it came about that the space behind Kosario was occupied by soiuo stranger. It was Don Jose Maria v/ho ilrst notici'd tliat quite as a matter of course that stranger grew to bo the Captain Don Fernando llui^:. , ..nd quite accidentally it happened that thereafter the mother and daughters went to an earlier Mass. Don Jose Maria was not so early a riser as Don Fernando was , so he was not there, while the 3'oung soldier was in his usual place. Chata was perhaps a stupid little creature, — Rosario it is quite certain would never have done such a silly thing; but one day when Don Fernando had pressed a note into the hand which was nearest to him, and which i?i jhe confusion of dispersal happened to be that of the srualler sister, she gave it in some indignation to her mother. It was full of violent protestations of a.Tection, and entreated the life of his life to give her lover hope ; it was signed her " agonized yet adoring Fernando." Dona Rita showed herself capable of great self-control ; she said sadly that she would not ask which had been guilty of attractin ' such impassioned admiration, but she assured the girls sIj was heart-broken. When she reached the house, after !irst carefuUy closing the door that her father might not hear, she rated them both soundly. Chata did not think it strange th*^ v should both be thought guilty ; she assu'Tied that Ro£.irio was as innocent as herself. Dona Ritu, giving Rosario the note to read, that she might learn for herself the daring and presumption of which man is capable, forgot in her indignation to reclaim it. An hour afterward Chata saw Rosario read it over in secret, and was scandalized to see her kiss it ; and late that daj', as they stood as usual on the balcony (the little mother, as Chata remarked, was so forgiving!), she caught Rosario's hand spasmodically as Fernando passed by, but the girl released it with some impatience and sl3'ly kissed the tips of her fingers, — and Chata, with a pang of awakening, real- ized that her sister hrd not been and was not so innocent of coquetry as she had assumed, and thenceforth suffered indescribable tortures between her sense of loyalty to her sister and duty to her mother. Ill: 13 ■I I i ii * ' 192 CHATA AND CHINITA. Rosario's ideal of truth was in accordance wJth that which surrounded her ; to be silent when speech was un- desirable, to equivocate pleasani,ly whore plain speakinjf would be harHli, to tell a lie gracefully where truth would offend, — this was her natural creed, which she had never questioned. But Chata, unknown to herself, had never accepted it; her soul was like certain nuiterial obj((ct8 which resist the dyes that other substances at once absorb. It was not enough for her to give the truth when it was asked, — it was a torture, an unnatural crime, to her to withhold it. She would not indeed have done so in this case, had not Kosario in a manner put her upon her honor the very next day. The washerwoman had been there, and Rosario, who was an embryo housewife, had been deputed to attend her, and Chata, who had gladly escaped the duty, ran to the bedroom when she saw the servant depart to congratu- late her sister on the dispatch she had made ; when Rosario dosing the door ra3'steriously, cried : " Look ! look what he has sent me ! Is it not beautiful, charming, divine ? " and she held up to the light her hand, on the first finger of which glittered a ring. Truth to tell, Chata was dazzled ; at that moment her own insignificance and the womanliness and beauty of Rosario were more than ever apparent. She gazed at Rosario with greater admiration than on the ring, beautiful though it was. Here was a sister just her own age, yet a woman with an actual lover ! Oh I " What will our mother say ? " she begar in an awed voice, when Rosario, her womanly dignity gone, began to spring up and down, screaming yet laughing, "-4?/, Dios mio ! " throwing her hand over her shoulder and slipping it into the loose neck of her dress. " Oh, my life ! the crea- ture is down my back ! it is crawling now on my shoulder ! No, no, grandfather," for Don Jos^ Maria had entered, " it is Chata who will help me. No, my mother ! Ay, it iy gone now ! I would not have you frightened, it was but one of those bright little beetles that live on the roses ; " and she contemptuously tossed something out of the win- dow, and Chata saw with speechless wonder that the ring which had been on her finger was gone. The bauble at least had slipped into a secure hiding-place, and Chata really cxistc Aj the he whicii dull, £ tiated make, by the tuiSas root, who se day, ai peared suit of his moo and mc leather, a horse declared himself, Rosario Truth though 1 had spet was natu ing them rio was, period re present i A visic though her gran( moving Rosario stealing that her condolen Rosario's of courts the tragei of the pr< r ill!!! ! th that ras un- >,eakin<; I would [I never II never objects absorb. n it was her to ) in this er honor rio, -who ;o attend y, ran to congratu- 1 Ilosario ook what divine?" t finger of )ment her beauty of gazed at , beautiful age, yet a / A CHATA AND CHINITA. 193 really oould not determine whether the beetle had ever existed or no. A» air of delightful mysterj' began to pervade not only the house but the quiet street all the way from the plaza, which Don Fernando Ruiz crossed at intervals in the long, dull, sultry days. It became quite a diversion to the ini- tiated to watch what clever turns and doublings he would make, and with what assumed indifTcrcnce he would linger by the fruit-stand at the corner, where old Antonina sold tufias or a few poor figs and lumps of roasted cassava root. She made quite a fortune from the j'oung captain, who seemed bent on dazzling her bleared eyes ; for every day, and sometimes three or four times in a day, he ap- peared resplendent in uniform of blue ^ id red, or a riding suit of buckskin embroidered in silver, or perhaps, when his mood was sombre, in black hung with silver buttons, and more than once in a suit of velvet and embossed leather, with buttons of gold set with brilliants, and riding a horse with accoutrements so splendid that Doila Rita declared he must be as rich as the Marquis of Carabas himself, and without any apparent consistency embraced Rosario with tears. Truth to tell, DoSa Rita was a match-maker bom, and though her talents had lain dormant during the years she had spent at the hacienda, they had not declined ; and it was natural that she should find a quiet exultation in exert- ing them in favor of her daughter, for young though Rosa- rio was, her precocity and the custom of the country and period rendered it perfectly natural that marriage should present itself in her immediate future. A vision of it rose before the impassioned girl Uke a star, though there was a period of clouds and mourning when her grandmother died, and Chata, sobbing in the garden or moving sadly about the darkened rooms, wondered that Rosario could smile over those pink notes she was always stealing into corners to pore over. During the nine days that her mother remained within doors receiving visits of condolence, the notes indeed were the aliment upon which Rosario's fancy fed ; for Dona Rita, though the little drama of courtship had undoubtedly made less absorbing to her the tragedy of illness and death, was too strict an observer of the proprieties to allow her maternal affection to betray 13 i }\ 194 C//ATA AND CiriNITA. ; \ F""" I her at such a time into permitting even a shutter ti» he left njar, or to suffer her daughter to approach a window to satisfy herself by a momentary peep as to whctl'icr the love-lorn captain was on his accustomed beat or no. Jt was a time however when without offence the ^«^ericst stranger might leave a card and word of sympathy, and this ho never failed to do from day to day. Dofia Rita would glance at the bit of cardboard with an affectation of indifference, but it would always shortly disappear from the table, and with the cruel sarcasm of childish intoler- ance Chata would suggest to Rosario its suitability for baking the little puffs of sugar and almonds upon, which she was so deft at compounding. At last the novcna of grief was ended, and taking her aged father's arm Doila Rita dutifully led him into the street to breathe the air. Rosario knew that at that hour the captain was on duty at the barracks, but nevertheless could not resist the opportunity of stepping into the bal- cony and gazing upon the scene from which she had been so long debarred. A neighbor across the way greeted her with a significant smile ; and somewhat piqued, Rosario drew back, half closed the shutters with a hesitating hand, and tlien dropping on the floor in the long ray of sunlight that streamed through the aperture, set herself to the ever entrancing task of re-reading her lover's letters. As she sat there opening them one by one and after perusal leaving them unfolded in her lap, she became so absorbed that she did not notice the passage of time until a footstep soimded behind her, and glancing up she saw with trepidation that her grandfather was ushering in a tall and imposing stranger, whose military garb made her heart beat madly, for a wild thought of Fernando Ruiz flashed tlirough her mind. Her confusion was not lessened by perceiving that the visitor was a man of more advanced age and infinitely greater assumption of rank. The tell- tale letters were in her lap, though involuntarily she had dropped her reboso over them ; but she dared not rise lest they should drop in a shower around her, and she equally feared the anger of her grandfather and the condemnatory surprise of the visitor. " I praj'^ you enter the house, Seiior ! Pass in, sir, pass in ! " she heard her grandfather say in his smoothest tones. If'; i C/fATA AND C/f/N/TA. 105 " My (/anghtcr will be hero almost immediately ; but she stopped at the convent for a moment to buy a blessed can- dle t<> |)laco before the altar of Our Lady of Succors. Slio will be honored indeed by this visit. Take care, Scfior, the roora|i8 somewhat dark, but I will open a shutter. Val- (fume JJios, what have wo here?" as he caught siglit of the bent figure sitting in the narrow streak of sunshine. '-''Caramba, niiia^ rise! rise, I say ! sccst thou not the Sefior General?" " Ay, but I have the cramp in my poor foot, ray grand- father," cried Itosario in a voice of lamentation, vainly endeavoring under cover of the reboso to make some disposal of the letters which rustled aUirmingly. " iVb, Senorea, by Blessed Mary my patroness, let mo alone 1 " she cried, as both her grandfather and the stranger attempted to help her, — the latter with a faint gleam of amusement in his eyes, the former with genuine consterna- tion depicted on his face. " Ay, Chata," for by this time her sister had appeared. " Oh, but my back is broken I it is worse than when you struck me with the stick when you were trying to knock the peaches from the tree. Oh I ah ! no, it is impossible for me to rise ! " In dire affright Chata knelt before her. " Oh, what shall I do ? " she cried, in remorse at the remembrance of an escapade that had been almost forgotten, and in sud- den fear that it might have been the cause of her sister's present distress. "Oh, my life! I thought it was your poor foot ! " and she began rubbing one small slippered member, while Rosario eagerly whispered, " Stupid one, hide me these letters ! " and the mystified Chata felt her sister's hand with a mass of fluttering papers thrust under her arm, covered with the ever useful reboso. Involuntarily the hapless confidant pressed them to her side, and at the same moment Rosario limped from the room, inwardl}' raging at making so poor a figure before the General, while Chata, standing for a moment abashed, was about to follow, when a voice which bewildered her by its strange yet familiar accent said gayly, " And you, my fair Seiiorita. have you never a twinge of the same dis- order that afflicts your sister?" and he glanced meaningly at a pink envelope, which had fallen at her feet, — at the same time covering it with his foot that it might not attract i *iii rt :^"! '. f: 196 C/IATA AND CHINITA. \ the suspicions ej'C of the old man, who with profuse apolo- gies for the informality of the reception v;as assuring the visitor that until that moment never had there boon a healthier damsel than his granddaughter Rosario, adding with a sigh, "But the Devil robs with one hancij and pinches with the other." Chata trembled and blushed painfully as she raised her eyes timidly to the General's, while with a senb3 of the grotesque she was conscious of wondering whether ho, like herself, was thinking her grandfather had suggested no complimentary agency in her grandmother's removal to another sphere. But at the instant all present perplexities vanished in the surprise with which she recognized the face which she had seen but for a few brief hours years before, — the face of the man of whom Chinita had never grown weary of talking. " The Seiior General Ramirez," she said in a low voice, with some awe. She was more than ever bewildered by the look he had fixed upon her. She shrank back, barely dropping her hand for a mo- ment upon that he extended t/)ward her. She was actually inclined to be frightened, his eyes were so bril- liant, his smile so eager. The foolish thought struck her thit had not her grandfather bv^en there, this strange imperious man would surely havo taken her in his arms, would have kissed her I She hurried from the room to find Rosario waiting for her at the end of the corridor, alternately smothering her laughter in the folds of her dress, and angrily chafing at her sister's delay. " Your horrid letters ! " cried Chata, thrusting them into her hands. " Here, take them, read them, laugh over tliem or cry, or kiss them if you will ! I hope I shall never see a love-letter again in my life. He saw them, — the Sefior (reneral. I know he did. Oh, what shame ! " " Pshaw ! " interrupted Rosario. " What does it mat- ter? He will think none the worse of me. Without doubt he is come on the part of Fernando to ask for me. How proud and happy my mother will be, and how she will rail at me ! It will not be difficult for me to cry as I ought, for I a,m mad with vexation to have appeared such a fool when I should have been so dignified. Why, the Senor will think me a child still ! Does he not look like sorat seen Gene "Wl Rami from and fl have I is my comes her sis "yom sighed Chata would with th clble Iv Like' It had 1 She dre she woi cross, a left her. of the fl( soothec alone, y garden, slie stop^ slie heai" ftom the iinnatura seemed t of the innocenc There liouse. (_ ^vhich ho ill the gl( tlisturbect indistinct I ) CHATA AND CHINI. A. 197 ■ I 1 3C apolo- ari'ng the e b'^cn a 3, adding landj and raised her ib3 of the lether he, suggested removal to erplexities ynized the ours years had never Ramirez," vras more I upon her. for a mo- She was ere so bril- ight struck this strange her in his id from the ,he end of ;hter in the her sister's And yet we can never havo some bne we know, Chata? seen him before." '- fes," returned Chata, " we have seen him. He is the General Jos^ Ramirez." '■'Ah, my heart!" ejaculated Rosario, dramatically. "What a misfortune! My father hates the General Ramirez because he once had some horses driven awuy from the hacienda ; and besides he is a good Christian and fights for the Church! Aj', unlucky Fernando, to have chosen such a messenger! But thank Heaven, it is my mother who will first hear him ! Ah, there she comes ! " and in irrepressible excitement Rosario grasped her sister's hand. " Oh, child ! " she added sentimentally, " 3'^ou too may be asked in marriage some day ! " and she sighed with an air of vastly superior experience, while Chata revolved in her mind what her playfellow Chinita would say when she told her of this unexpected meeting with the hero whom she fancied she had rendered invin- cible by the gift of the amulet. Like most children of her country Chata wore a scapularj^ It had lain upon her breast ever since she could remember. She drew it out and looked at it. Some day she thought she would open it ; now she only made the sign of the cross, as she replaced it. Rosario in nervous um'est had left her. The cool of the evening had come ; the perfume of the flowers stole in at the open window, and the breeze soothed the unusual agitation of her mind. Glad to be alone, yet anxious and perplexed, she stepped into the garden. More than once as she walked down the alley she stopped, her h(mrt palpitating violently. She fancied she heard her name called, or that Ramirez would step from the shadow of a tree to encounter her. It was an unnatural and unchildlike mood quite now to her. It seemed to hor that Jier grandfather's unnecessary mention of the Devil's name might have incited that enemy of innocence to annoy her, and she whispered an Ave. There was a large cluster of bananas just behind the house. Chata sat down there to watch the fantastic clouds which hovered where tho sun had set. In her absorption ill the glo^'ing scene she was unconscious that any sound tlisturbeu the silence around her. It was indeed but a low indistinct hum, scarcely recognizable as the sound of :iili| ***> '•*M >; 108 CHATA AND C/fimTA. \ Immun voices. HjuI slic noticed tlicni, elio would have ronunubcrod that she wasH willi'm a foot or two of a window wliicli w.'iH Hcroenod IVoui Hi«;lit by the Iblia^o, and would luive willidrawn IVoni ixwsiblo tliscovery ; but as it was, she remained there an unconsciouM troai)asHer. The llrHt distinct sound that reached her ear at once startled and impressed her, Cor it was the tleej) voice of Kaniirez utter- ing her own name. " Chata, yes it was Chata \ said," he alllrmed dictatori- ally. *' Why attempt dissimulation with you, Senora? 1 am in no humor for trilling. Will Dofia Isabel provide a dowry for your daughter? It is my fan(!y that \\ \\a should marry the little one, and I can nuike or mar him. So far the boy has blundered, but if he once turns his eyes on the pretty face of Chata, he will not lind the mistake irremediable " Chata C(v 1 not credit the evidence of her senses, and remained as if rooted to the spot. She presently heard her mother sobbing: "This is an unheard of thing I A young man pays court to one child, — perhaps she is not insensible to his advances. — and his patron comes to me to bid me give him another, whom he has not perhaps even glanced at. Oh, it is too much ! too nuich ! " " I have already told you," said Ramirez, coldly, " that Kuiz is poor. His father was my father's servant, and is mine ; more; than once he has s:'i ■< t.h ¥ i --A W'' -i^r'a tho foundliniT — who had apparently been so far ro- moved from her by caste and circumstance — had o.lways possessed for her. At the thought, a tint of crimson suffused her neck and face. How could she know but that in the obscurity of Chinita's life as the adopted child of a iDOor gate-keeper, even the foundling had perhaps less to blush for than the supposed daughter of the administrador? Doiia Rita had talked much during the early part of her visit of the family affairs of the important personages whom her husband served. Chata had heard the talk with more entertainment than interest ; but she was of a reflecting and acute mind, and she began now to weave theories tind form conclusions which sometimes startled, sometimes horrified her. Had she but caught the name that had brought the shriek from DoSa Rita's lips the even- ing the General Ramirez had talked with her ! But with- out that clew her speculations were idle, and she tortured herself in vain, yet with unconscious dissimulation hid her wild and bitter thoughts beneath an exterior that to the ordinary observer appeared one of thoughtless rather than feigned and hysterical levity. In the fear of meeting the General — though the temp- tation often came upon her to fly from the house lest he might enter it — Chata avoided going into the streets, and but that she feared it might prove a deadly sin she would even have made an excuse of illness to remain from Mass. But this might not be, though no temptation of a week-day feast would draw her forth. And thus it happened that she and Dona Rita were alone when the General Ramirez for the second time visited the house. Rosario by chance had accompanied her grandfather on a visit. She had gone in the best of spirit ; for she had shown Chata a note from Ruiz, in which he declared that though forbidden to ask for her until in the course of the revolution he had acquired a competency, or her father should lose his unjust prejudices against the Church party, he should ever remain true to her, and should live only in the hope of calling her his own. For the f rst time Chata had embraced Rosario with a genuine sympathy with this love which seemed so true and yet so hopeless, and had watched her turn the corner leading to the plaza, when she wf actual had lo rious k saw the the soij street j tion. thought the win peted fl hind a for proti yant can in the nc speedy c tht^y 01 hearing, no voice whose ac her desol; As the sive, and distractec gether, a came hei Aw8 and her face, rending s Her pa Revere, bang of a Was it fai was an u What had Had the were too than natm tily rose, stepping 1 with DoSa " Ah, y< CHATA AND CHINITA. 205 r ro- ways mson 7 but chiUl rhaps ►f the art of )uage3 e talk ,9 of a weave tartld, 5 name e even- it with- ortured hid her i to the ler than le temp- le8t he sets, and le would _ Mass. eek-day led that 1 Ramirez she was suddenly aroused from a melancholy — which was actual repose compared to the state of excitement that had long possessed her — by the sound of a quick, impe- rious knock upon the street door ; and glancing down, she saw the General Ramirez impatiently flicking his boot with the small cane he carried, and glancing up and down the street as if suspicious rather tht ' desirous of observa- tion. He had not seen her she was sure. Quick as thought she ran through the room, and passing through the window pushed open a door which led to the para- peted flat roof of the back buUding, and crouching be- hind a low brick wall prayed breathlessly to the Virgin for protection. It was a solitary place, where only a ser- vant came sometimes to place a tub of water to be heated in the noonday sun, or to hang some household article for speedy drying. It was not likely, even were she wanted, they ould think to look for her there. She was out of hearing, away from all the ordinary sounds of the house ; no voice could reach her there, — not even that voice whose accents she could never forget, which had made her desolate. As the time passed or/ and the stillness grew oppres- sive, and the sunbeams, which had at first annoyed and distracted her, stole to the wall and at last receded alto- gether, a sense of bitter forlornness and weariness over- came her; and ceasing from the vain repetitions of Aves and Pater nosters^ Chata clasped her hands over her face, and resting it upon her knees burst into heart- rending sobs. Her passion did not continue long ; it was perhaps too severe. It was arrested as by a blow, — by the sudden bang of a heavy door. She lifted her head and listened. Was it fancy, or did she hear the rattle of musketry ? It was an unfamiliar sound, and yet she recognized it. What had happened? Was an enemy entering the town? Had the garrison revolted? Accounts of such events were too frequent to make these conjectures other than natural even to Chata's unwarlike mind. She has- tily rose, pushed aside the bolt of the heavy door, and stepping into the corridor found herself face to face with Doiia Rita. " Ah, you are here ! " that lady exclaimed in a hurried ' < 'r 206 CHATA AND rr^ TA. ji IW"**^ ''I i;i: i m\ ■ i if l|»B'fti1.-*.., :>3||llllll and abstracted manner, far different from that whach she would usually have worn at the discovery of such a misde- meanor. " I have been seeking you everywhere, — i. coiilil not send a servant. And now something has happe-ncd in the street, and he has rushed away without seeing you, — the Scfior General Ramirez, I mean." " I know whom 3'ou mean ! " cried Chata. " Oh, my mother, why should I see him ? " Then with wild passion she threw herself at Dona Rita's feet, and buried her face in her skirts and the flowing ends of her reboso. " Oh, tell me that it was not true — what I heard ! I was in the gar- den the other evening as you talked ! Oh, my mother, my mother ! " Dofia Rita looked down at her in startled surprise, but almost instantly an expression of relief rose to her counte- nance. '* Rise, child, rise ! " she said in a low, not ungen- tle voice ; yet there was an inexpressible lack of maternal solicitude in it, which struck to the heart of the suffering child. *' Listen ; be reasonable ; have I not ever been kind to thee ? I do not blame thee even now that thou art forced to repay me so ill ; it is not thy fault." " But you shall not be repaid so ill !" exclaimed Chata. " I will be your child forever. Oh, it is not possible that he — this strange man, who frightens me — would dare take me from you ? " " Bless me, nina^ you are a strange one I If you but knew it, you have rare good fortune. A handsome lover and a rich dowry are not to be had every day for the asking. But you show a proper spirit, and one I should have ex- pected after the good training you have had. Heaven knows what would have been the result had you been given to Doiia Isabel, and allowed to run at large like most of the children of Our Blessed Lady. Yet it was a cruel trick my mother-in-law played me, and Rafael too ! "Well, well, it shall be brought home to him some da3\ Listen ! was not that the sound of cannon ? and my child abroad ! Ave Maria Sanctissima I " "Mother, be not afraid!" said Chata, desperately. " She and my grandfather will not yet have left Dona Francisca's, and that 3'ou know is quite away from the plaza or the barracks ; they have only to cross the gar- dens and be home in a ' God speed us !' But as for me, I am i were 1( that I J conio o " Th with ai "and t sent to /hncy y der-hcai whim, t whom I ciate, — instead world bi "I ca with a d looking J the corri ing, and doubts ag see my \ Feliz, — ' r>oiia Ri^ shoulders secret; tl flog's life ! angry hus poor Rosj " What "Wereyc small ? "\^ t'cntly rob "Yes,y cral Rami] C'hata, mai >ny husbar should be ^ secret of y reasons, more thanl —11?1 CHATA AND CI/IN/TA, :h she iiisdc- couUl ncd ia ou, — 111, my lassiou er faco 3h, tell lie gar- aothcr, Lse, but countc- ungen- laternal utferuig er been thou art 207 I am in more fright and misery than if a thousand guns were levelled upon me. Do you not sec, 1 linow only tiiat I nm not your child 1 Who am 1 ? What is to be- come of me ? " "The last seems settled already," returned Dofia Rita, with an accent of cliagrin wl»ich was almost spiteful ; '' and the long and short of it is, child, that you were sent to Dofia Isabel, but that my mother-in-law had the I'uncy you would bo safer with mo ; and I, like a ten- der-hearted simpleton, did not object to humoring her whim, thinking at the same time I was doing a person whom I loved a service she would know how to appre- ciate, — and now when the time Ivtts come for recompense, instead of gain, comes loss. There is nothing in this world but vexation and disappointment." " I cannot understand anything of this," said Chata, with a deep sigh. She had risen to her feet, and was looking pitifully at Dona Rita, who walked up and down the corridor, listening to the distant and irregular fir- ing, and interrupting her discourse with interjections and doubts as to the safety of her daughter. " But when I see my father, Don Rafael, I will ask him, or Dona Feliz, — yes. Dona Feliz always loved me." " Ay, but you must ask nothing," almost screamed Dona Rita, running to Chata and seizing her by the shoulders. " They will think it was I who betrayed the secret ; they will never forgive me. Oh, I should lead a dog's life ! You are not old enough to know how cruel an angry husband or a baffled mother-in-law can be. And' poor Rosario — " " What can it matter to Rosario ? " in'^errupted Chata. "Were you not lamenting that her dowr/ would be so small ? Will it not be double now that I shall not inno- cently rob her?" " Yes, yes," whispered Doiia Rita, eagerly. *' The Gen- eral Ramirez promised me this very day that when you, Chata, married Ruiz, he would make a gift to Rosario of all my husband may bestow on you, and that as much more should be given her on her wedding day, provided that the secret of your birth be kept. It is useless to ask me his reasons. He gave me none. I cannot guess them any more than I can surmise why Dona Isabel would not re- ri: •'a ' *i II IJ' 208 err ATA AND CiriNlTA. i^W^ ' % ' ccivo you, and therefore you were thrust into my urriis. Ilcnvcns, what a reverberation ! the whole house s.hakcH ! " "It is nothing," cried Chata, " but the slamming of a door. I hear the voices of Don Joso Maria and Kosnrio. Stay ! " she added, grasping Dofia liita as she was about to run down the stairs. "I warn you that I will know all the truth. Your poor reasons shall not keep me from demanding it. Dofia Feliz shall not refuse me ! " *' Dofia Feliz will do as she wills ! " retorted Dofla Rita. '^ But this I tell you, child, that the moment Ramirez knows that those who once crossed his plans are warned against him, you will be spirited away. Ramirez has his own purposes, and is not to be thwarted. He is already angry against Rafael and Dofia Feliz for their attempted and long successful deception. He is a man of great and mysterious power, and knows not the meaning of the word fcrgive ; and as sure as you stand there, if you disobey .Xa commands sent you through me he will separate you at once f^om your home and friends, and bring ruin upon those who have cared for you." DoSa Rita spoke with that impressive eloquence and firo which upon occasion seems at the command of every Mcx« ican. She stood with one foot on the corridor floor, the other upon the stair, which she was about to descend, and she had turned half-way round, stretching out her hands, and lifting her dark and anxious eyes to encounter and fix the gaze of Chata. Below, in the stone entrance-way, stood Rosario, volubly describing to a servant the dangers she and her grandfather had encountered. For the moment Dona Rita appeared in Chata's eyes like some timorous yet desperate animal standing between her and her young. "My Rosario, my poor child," said the mother in alow voice, " is her life to be blasted by j'ou? Ramirez is in two minds now. One is to resent the frustration of bis will, and be the mortal enemy of those who have sheltered you ; the other to applaud and reward them. Upon your discretion all depends." " But I shall go mad if I have only this to think upon," exclaimed Chata. ' ' Who, who can tell me anything to make this dreadful revelation endurable, if not Don Rafael or Dona Feliz ? Ah, yes, there is — there is the General." "Surely!" replied Dofia Rita. "Yes, my life, I am com in vol I t( you 111 Did li( Yes, y and yc iliize s IJafael nn imp motion would 1 save us troycd ! close tl returnee IS this? hnrried directing who, atl of men j shutters. Cliataj the stair over anc Yes, yes, hring dai Yes, I TV Oil, wha child ! ] little' chil( know he Rita says find false ino — " escaped h the testin was struc spect and bosom toT As if tt that facec leads the !.i! "^"1' CI/ATA AND CllINITA. 209 arms, ikcs ! " ig of a osario. . about I know 10 from la BUa. Uamirc/i warned ircz has He 19 for their n man of meaning there, if ic he will luds, and •e and fire very Mcx- floor, the cend, and ler hands, cr and fix !vay, stood .ngers she e moment ! timorous ler young, r in a low mirez is in ion of his 3 sheltered Jpon your cominp; *' — to Rosario. ** Yes, Chata, could I have found vou to-day, you would have known all. Ask him what you like — it will please him. Oh, he is most considerate. Did ho not show that by taking mo into his confldence? Yes, yes, you arc right; insist upon knowii>g all fVom him, find you shall toll uie : who could understand, or sym[)!i- iliizo so well? Hut as you love mo and value the safety of Rafael, not a word to him or Doila Feliz. — llosario 1 what an impatient one ! What is there to sec? If there is com- motion in the street, keep back from the windows. Ay, who would have thought the troops would pass this way? God save us, we shall bo killed ! the whole town will be des- troyed ! The street is alive with soldiers. Bar the doors 1 close the shutters ! Oh, what horror ! Is it Comonfort returned? Is it a pronunciamUntof What new alarm IS this?" Ejaculating these last sentences Doila Rita hurried downstairs and rushed from room to room, directing the bewildered servants and chiding Rosario, who, attracted by the sound of music and the trampling of men and horses, strove to peep through a crack in tho shutters. Chata, standing where she had been left at the head of the stairs, heard it all as though in a dream. She said over and over to herself, "It is tho General I will ask. Yes, yes, I will have the courage 1 No word of mine shall bring danger on my father. Oh, why do I say * my father ' ? Yes, I will say so ; he is mine until ho turns me away ! Oil, what shall I do? Oh, Sanctissima Maria, help thy child ! May I not say to Don Rafael, ' Hero is thy poor little child ; she will be the daughter of no other '? Oh, I know he would cling to me, fight for me ; but that Dona Rita says would be ruin ! Ah, I know the soldier is cruel and false, even if he is my father; he has been so to me — " She stopped suddenl}', as though blasphemy had escaped her. Though she would not believe in her heart the testimony which her reason could not disallow, she was struck dumb by the mere possibility of filial disre- spect and with the actual abhorrence which she felt in her bosom toward the man whom she instinctively feared. As if to flee from her thoughts, she rushed into a room that faced upon the street, and with an impulse such as leads the desperate mt^n to throw himself into a vortex of 14 I I \\ f!« « ?fm M If I S .,. !r-^ i ' ::f ^J 210 en ATA AND CHINITA. seething water, or into the thickest of battle, as her car caught the sounds of commotion, she threw open the shut- ters and stepped out upon the balcony. A scene of confusion met her eye, in which men on horseback and on foot seemed mingled indiscriminately-, each individual struggling in an attempt to secure a per- sonal advantage, lianks were broken and scattered. Men and officers alike were for the most part un-uni~ formed, and to the uninitiated it was impossible to distinguish the adherents of one party from those of an- other, save by the wild cries of '•''Religion y Fucros! Loug live Liberty I Long live Juarez ! " The name of Juarez had begun to be a familiar one in all ears ; and even though it possessed not the magic of later years, the voices that uttered it thrilled with an intensity of purpose which seemed to infuse the word with life, — to make it a watchword for great and noble aspirations and deeds, not the mere echo of a name, a party cry to be shouted with frenzy to-day and execrated to-morrow. It was impossible to tell what chance had forced the combatants upon that straggling highway. The struggle had begun at the barracks, when a party of horse had sur- prised the garrison, pouncing upon it from the hills like hawks upon their prey, and by the sheer force of surprise, rather than any superiority of numbers or courage, throw- ing it into a confusion which in spite of the efforts of the young officers speedily resulted in a panic. The soldiers Avho had been drilling before the town prison, — which had done duty as a fort, — after a feeble and confused attempt to defend its doors, had been driven into the plaza ; and when Ramirez reached this, it was to find his own guns turned upon him. His servant had been leading his charger up and down the street, awaiting him ; and catching a glimpse of his master as he hurried i)ast an alley in which the groom had taken refuge, he called in mingled devotion and affright, — "For God's sake, Seiior! here is the black. Mount him for 3'our life ! another moment and we should have been discovered ! Everybod}' knows Choolooke, and my life would not have been worth a cent had they caught sight of him. My faith, I like not these surprises ! This 'T ^ CHATA AND CHINITA. 211 icr car shut- icn on nately, a pcr- ittcred. un-uni- ible to 3 of an- 'i^ueros ! iiar one e magic with an tic word Qcl noble name, a xecratccl )rced the struggle had sur- hills like surprise, e, throw- •ts of the soldiers hich had |l attempt ,za; and wn guns ig his am ; and past an called in Mount )uld have f, and my jy caught ! This way, Scnor ! Around bv tlie church there is an alley un- guarded. They arc figluing nke ten thousand devils in the plaza. It is madness to go there ! " Ramirez sprang into the saddle with a laugh, though his lips were white and his eyes blazing with rage. It was a new experience to him to be thus caught napping, — his scouts must have played him false. His horse snorted and bounded under him. In another moment he was in the midst of the melee, and an electric shock seemed to pass through friends and foes alike. There were wild shrieks at sight of him. The exultant invaders echoed with som? dismay the name of Ramirez, the battle-cry with which his followers made an attempt to ralh', seizing arms from the hands of their opponents, or using the pis- tols which had remained forgotten in their belts. For a few moments the plaza appeared to be a veritable battle-ground, though there was far more noise and con- fusion than actual fighting done. Ramirez knew with infinite rage and shame that he would probably be forued to yield the town, rather by strategy than superior num- bers. It would have been an actual pleasure to him at the moment to have seen his followers falling in their blood, rather than flying disarmed, — even though they should rally later and take a terrible revenge upon the encmj'. For an instant his presence stemmed the current of retreat, but for an instant only. There had been a secret dissatisfaction in his ranks, which the sight of the well-known face of a popular leader, together with panic, rapidly fermented into a pronunciamiento ; and even as Ramirez, waving his sword above his head, entered the street of the Orchards, he was saluted with the shout, " Down with Ramirez ! Down with the Clergy ! Long live Juarez I Long live Gonzales ! ' and through the dust and smoke he caught sight of Vicente Gonzales, almost unrecognizable under the grime of the hurried march and the heat of excitement and success. The two were so close together they could have touched each other. One of those hand-to-hand encounters which the history of Mexico proves were not infrequent even at that date seemed inevitable, as they turned toward each other with the fury of personal hatred added to partisan animosity. i< IT ■■'> 1 U' 212 CHATA AND CHINITA. ,1 f \h\) In' III I 1 1' \\i \f J i-r'"l^ But at the moment when the two fiery steeds have clashed together, a woman threw herself would before Ramirez and caught his arm, calling aloud his name. With that wonderful j^ower of the bridle-hand possessed by the horsemen of Mexico, Gonzales drew back his charger and gazed full at his opponent, whom force more potent than a blow seemed to arrest. The crowd surged in; Ramirez's horse was forced back. The woman had fallen in the meltSe ; and with a curse upon her the guerilla chieftain was swept onward in the current of retreat. Chata from the balcony had witnessed this incident in the distance. She shrieked as the woman fell. An officer who was speeding past looked up, — it was Fernando Ruiz. " Coward ! " she involuntarily cried, " to leave your Gen- eral I " She realized how impossible, having lost the first moment of vantage, would be an attempt to control the undisciplined and flying rabble when even the oncers had succumbed to panic ; and for the first time her s/mpathies woke for Ramirez. Yielding to the necessity of the moment the General had put spurs to his horse. The bullets flew past him as he sped over the highway ; yet he glanced up as he passed the house, — he even drew rein for an instant in alarmed surprise. "Go in! go in!" he cried. *'What! wilt thou be killed in mere wantoness ? Go in, I tell thee ! Are both to be killed before my eyes to-day?" Chata sprang tlirough the open window in aff'right, obedient rather to his stern yet imploring gesture than to his words. He glanced back, fired a pistol toward a pair of Liberal soldiers who had rapidly gained upon him, and without the change of a muscle upon his set face, as one of them pitched headlong from his plunging steed, continued his flight and disappeared in the low bushes. With horror Chata watched the death agony of the wounded soldier. His comrade had not thought it worth while to linger ; there might be booty or sport elsewhere. All the church bells were being rung for the victory by this time. The half hour's fight was over ; the fort had been taken, tlie garrison routed, a pronunciamiento suc- cessful ; the town had changed its poUtics. A few dead men ingoi house settin of the The the sti as tha Ramir' one w( Sol, the ba Doiia j conven thought grating with 11^ out wis her lar^ softened wliich si to check Upon window "nusuall Chata al them bel The si attendan of dismis extended " Forgive 3ou," sJie to make linda, tua spotless s The cy( J have no tlio world ^iita, that At that and eager CHATA AND CHINITA. 213 NTOUlcl )cfore lamc. sesscd ik his more jurgetl voraan LGi" the •ent of dent in L oftlccr o lluiz. ir Gen- bhe first trol tlic •ers had apathies General t him as passed alarmed , of the j^ it worth ksewhere. [ctory by Ifort had tmto suc- Ifew dead men were lying in the streets, a few wounded were bath- ing or plastering their bleeding heads or limbs ; the closed houses were opening again ; the street merchants were setting foilh their wares ; and one of the thousand phases of the revolution had passed. The next day the Liberal soldiers were lounging about the streets ; the boys were shouting, *' Long Uve Gonzales ! " as they went by, as thej' had shouted before, " Long live Ramirez ! " A tranquil gayety pervaded the place. No one would have known its peace had ever been disturbed. So lovely was the afternoon, and the distant sounds of the band playing in the plaza were so inspiring, that Dona Rita and her two charges sallied forth to visit the convent. Thev had often been there before. Rosario thought it dull to wait while her mother chatted at the grating with the soft-voiced nuns, but Chata watched them with awe. There was one whose pale face used to peer out wistfully through the semi-darkness ; her voice and her large dark eyes, it seemed to Chata, were always softened by tears. She longed to touch the white hand which she sometimes saw raised to the sensitive lips, as if to check some ill-considered word. Upon this day some rays of light piercing the barred window of the corridor rendered the features of the nun unusually distinct. A sense of bewilderment stole over Chata as she gazed upon them. Where had she seen them before? Who was this Sister Veronica? The short time allowed for the interview expired ; the attendant nun gave her hand to Dona Rita to kiss in token of dismissal, and turned away. As the Sister Veronica extended her hand in turn, Dona Rita caught it eagerly : " Forgive me ! Forgive me I Oh, I had thought so ill of you," she said earnestly ; " yet to think ill of you seemed to make my own life noble. Forgive me, Seiiorita Iler- linda, tliat I ever thought you anything but a true and spotless saint ! " The eyes of the nun opened wide. "Forgive, forgive? I have nothing to forgive ; why should not you — ay, all the world — condemn me ? " she whispered hoarsely. ' ' Oh, Rita, that face ! that face ! " At that instant the slide was drawn and the white face and eager eyes of the nun disa[)[)earcd. i^H >:^ i; ■H 1 * iff^ If 1 f ! 1 ■ 1: , i\ ■ t ' n ■ 1 ««»v«> 1 : mik I*! . \ ! Ir. '1 214 CI/ATA AND CHINITA. Chata turned to look behind her where the nun had apparently directed her gaze. A woman was crouching on the door-sill. She was not old, though over her won- derful Spanish beauty some power of devastation seemed to have swept. She was carelessly but richly dressed, the disorder of her i^erson seemingly according with that of her manner, — perhaps of her intellect; for though evi- dently a lady by birth, she lay in the sun, her head uncov- ered, her shawl thrown back from her shoulders, her hair, which was of a pecuUar reddish brown, half uncoiled, twining like little serpents around her throat. She glanced carelcssl}* up as Dona Rita and the 3'oung girls passed her. Chata saw with surprise that one side of her face was bruised, and there was a deep scratch on her arm. Where had she seen before the glint of that shining hair? It flashed over her in a moment. This was the woman who had thrown herself upon Ramirez ! Chata involuntarily paused, but Dofia Rita caught her hand and drew ber awav. She had motioned Rosario on before. Her very garments had rustled with disdain as she passed the prostrate woman. " Such as these one can at least be certain of," she said sententiously. It was not a pleasant thing to own one's self mistaken. Chata detected chagrin In the tone of her voice : was she piqued that she had misjudged Sis- ter Veronica? Then she remembered with a start what the new interest of the moment had driven from her mind, — th J name by which her mother had addressed the nun : it was of the Sefiorita Herlinda that her mother had asked pardon ! A feeling of awe crept over her. She had seen Dona Isabel's beautiful and sainted daughter, around whose name hung so much romance and mysterj'. And oh the sadness of that face ! the wistfulness of those eyes ! the appealing agony' of that voice ! When they reached the house the door was ajar ; there was a mild excitement within. A familiar voice saluted their ears. Dona Rita clutched Chata's arm and wliis- l)ered, "Not a word, I command thee!" and with a glance of mingled entreaty and menace followed Rosario to greet Don Rafael with exclamations of welcome and delight. Cha sjglit < father, ^een a broken "M with pi He cauj eyelids ently h, kissed ] feeling ^ had mut and he h ling roii- ncicd ,tlic .t of cvi- icov- liair, nled, •oung c sklc :ch on f that Tbis ez! ;lit her alio on lain as f," she to own ic tone \fQd Sis- Ivt what ■r mind, \e nun : iier had CIIATA AND CHINITA. 215 Chata took with icj'^ fingers the hand he extended at sight of her and bent over it with tears and kisses. " My father, my own father ! " she wliispered. Even had she been at Uberty to do so, she would not for the world have broken the spell of those words. " M3' patron saint ! " cried Don Kafacl, regarding her with puzzled fondness, "what has come to the child?" He caught her on his arm and held her from him. Her eyelids lowered, her color rose beneath his gaze. Pres- ently he released her and turned away. He had not kissed her. Had he forgotten? Had some new, deep feeling withheld him ? Chata felt cold and faint ; he too had muttered under his breath, "That face! that face!" and he had spoken those words of her. ••&{ M V II In Dona whose Id oh tlic [esl the ir; there saluted lid wliis- with a Rosavio hme ami Hi '•u know how the bhick cat strayoil once into the hut, and though Floroncia drove him away, and would strike and frighten him if lie stole as nuich as a morsel of dried beef, he would come back and curl him- self under the bench, and lie there upon the cold lloor, though he might hnve gone to the granaricf) and had his fill of fat mice, and plenty of straw to lie on. Well, Pedro, I am the black cat, and I will stay in Dofia Isabel's house because it is my humor, and I cannot tell why, and there is an end of it." Pedro sighed ; but presently he said in his slow way, "Well, well! God is God, — may he care for thee! Pedro can be of no more use to thee ; the guitar that doesn't accord with the voice is best hung upon the wall. Farewell, Chinita; God grant thee so much good that thou needst not remember tliy old friends." Chinita laughed. " Thou art vexed, Pedro ; but I love thee, and I would love thee more if thou wouldst tell me the name of my father or my mother." Podro shook his head. "Oh, I am sure thou dost not know ; thou couUlst not have kept a secret all these jears ! " She looked at him sharply, but he was not the man to begin unwary de- fences, which might to a keen eye expose the weakest spots in his armor. He stood for some moments quite silent. Chinita saw by the moonlight that his face had lines upon it she had never seen before. Her conscience smote her, yet she could not say she was sorry for the fate which had parted them, — for it did not occur to her any more than to him that he might question the act of Dona Isabel, and refuse to yield the child he had sheltered from its birth. " What secret should the tool have ? " he asked at length bitterly. " It is taken up and laid by as the master wills. Years ago I used to think I was a man, but since then I have been but a dog to watch and to guard ; but the watch is over, and the dog may be a man again. That would please you, would it not? There is better work than to sit at a gate and sec the soldiers come and go, and never CI/ATA AND CniNITA, 223 hear so miieli as tho echo of a shot ; or as much aa know why there is a smell of blood always in the air, and nu-n art! (lrafj;ged away to death. Gonzales toUl me the strii;j;- gle Ih for liberty ; 1 can do no niort* for you, and I will }j:o and sec. Who knows what I may find beyoml thert-? Who knows what news I may brinj^ to you ? " The face usually so stoical in its expression was lighted as if by an inward fire. For the first time Chinita knew that this man too had his ambitions, the stronpjer that they had been repressed for years. Would he join the next band of soldiers or bandits that came that way? The thought struck her comically, like a touch of the mock heroic; yet it thrilled her. She would have liked to be a soUlier herself. She would have chosen to be a boy to go with him ; and yet she was glad they were to part, if that indeed was his meaning, — that her foster father would no longer sit at the gate. lie had touched her hand and bent to kiss it humbly, as he might have saluted Dona Isabel herself. Then iio thrust a long narrow package through the bars, muttered softl}', " Adios" and stole noiselessly away. Though Chinita saw him at his old place on the morrow, she understood that an eternal farewell had been made to their old relations and their old life. All that remained of them was contained in the i)ackage of trinkets he had brought her, — the coral beads, the few irregular pearls, the many-hucd reboso, and tho ribbons she had prized and which in his simplicity he had thought she would regret. Indeed, she had recognized them with a thrill of delight ; nothing half so bright or costly had been oflcred her in the new life she had imagined would be so rich and bril- liant. Yet she clung to it as hers of right, the more firmly after turning over and over, again and again, the dainty swaddling clothes, which she had never seen before, but which she knew Pedro had yielded to her as the sole pos- sessions with which she had come to him, — i)osscssions useless in themselves, but invaluable to her as proofs that she came from no plebeian stock. She wondered if her mother had arrayed her in them to cast her out, — and though she was of no gentle mould, her mind revolted from the thought. Then, had her father disowned her ; or had an enemy filched her from her cradle, and unwilling li/ 224 CIIATA AND CHINITA. %i to be guilty of her blood, left her in the first hands ho had encountered ? She ran over in her mind all the talcs she had heard of m^'sterious disappearances, — and they were not a few, — but none would fit the case ; and surely a hue-and-cry would have been made at the abduction of a rich man's infant. Chinita wrapped up the clothes and hid them away in impatient despair. Once she thought of taking them to Dona Isabel; but what would be gained by that? That her protectress knew the secret of her birth she was con- vinced, not by any course of reasoning, but by the simple fact that she had assumed the charge of her as her light. The girl did not know how baseless are apt to be the caprices of a great lady. The days passed wearily to the eager child. They would have been intolerable — for she was alwaj's alone or with Dofia Isabel, who gave her no certain status as equal or inferior, and with whom she was feverishly defi- ant, or seized with sudden tremors of awe or actual fear- but that she knew Don Rafael had gone to bring his family home. She longed to pour her secret thoughts into the ears of Chata, to show the infant clothes and hear her comments and suggestions. It appeared to her that Chata would certainl}' penetrate the gloom, and in her sweet sim- plicity throw some light upon the mystery which enveloped her. Besides, the wilful girl exulted in the anticipation of dazzling the eyes of Rosario and Dona Rita by her connection with Doiia Isabel. She was shrewd enough to see it had greatly increased her importance in the es- timation of tlie servants and employees. Even Don Rafael, before he went away, had seized an opportunity to ask her whether she was content, and afterward had never failed to bow to her with grave politeness when they met. Once a strange thought had been set in the child's mind : it returned and vexed her again and again. Dona Feliz had come into the room when in an unusual mood of devo- tion Chinita had knelt to pray before the image of the Virgin, before which, though she did not know it, had been poured forth so many bitter cries. Feliz started as she saw her, and Chinita rose to her feet. " Do not rise," said Dona Feliz ; " learn, child, to pray. ^any am begin thy "What more to dc nuns; anc "lUitth a peculiar "Whyn Then seize Dona Isab( "P to pray much? Se his soul fro] do it. My asleep, j c go awaj', to clay, as the t some of her ^ born for sue not to pray. dress saints. I>ona Felii your friend," said. Perha] beautiful tha have been hj "IstheSe: excitement ca Hie once, — i( American, wh told me a wit( murdered, ~ j tlie nina Her died, but that she could rea( "The witch was a sujDersti was the witch "How can more of her th slie is never en killed I know lands ho the talcs and ibcy id surely 3tion of a ^ away in • tbcm to it? That 1 was con- the simple her light, to be the lid. They fays alone I status as rishly defi- bual fear— r his family ts into the d hear her that Chata sweet sim- envelopcd inticipation :ita by her |wd enough in the es- JEven Don jpportunity srward had mess when lild's mind : [Doiia FeUz lod of devo- ,iage of the [t, had been ked as she kd, to pray. CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 225 Many amcns must perforce reach Heaven ; it is well to begin thy task young." " What task ? " Chinita queried. ' ' I shall have something more to do than to pray all my life. That is for saints ancl nuns ; anc' even Pedro would not take me for a saint." " IJut thou couldst still be a nun," said Dona Feliz, with a peculiar sniilo ; " and why shouldst thou not be?" " Why not?" ejaculated Chinita. " Because I will not ! " Then seized with a sudden terror, she cried, " Is that why Dona Isabel has taken me from Pedro ? Is it to shut mo up to pray for her and the wicked brother she loved so much ? Selsa told me she had set her own daughter to free his soul from purgatory, and is not that enough ? I '11 not do it. My knees ache when I kneel; I yawn, I fall asleep. I cannot bear to be forever in one place. It is to go away, to see strange sights, to wear silk and lace every day, as the nina Herlinda must have done, — see, here are some of her dresses still, — it is for this, and because I was born for such things, that I stay with Dona Isabel ; it is not to pray. I care not to pray, nor sing hymns, nor dress saints. I will go to her and tell her so ! " Dona Feliz caught the arm of the excited child. " I am your friend," she said. " Speak not a word of what I have said. Perhaps it was a foolish thought ; but many more beautiful than you have entered convents, and perhaps have been happy." " Is the Senorita Herlinda happy ? " asked Chinita, her excitement calmed by the thought of another- " Selsa told me once, — it was the night Antonita saw thv'^ ghost of the American, when she came back from the mounlam, — Selsa told me a witch had laid a spell upon her the da}' he was murdered, — a witch who loved the foreigner; and that tlie nina Herlinda drooped and withered and would have lUed, but that a fever carried awaj' the evil womau before she could read her into her grave." "The witch!" ejaculated Dona Feliz, mystified. This was a superstition of which she had heard nothing. " Who was the witch?" " How can I tell? " answered Chinita. *' Chata knows more of her than I. It is to her old Selsa told her talcs ; she is never cross to Chata. But after the American was killed I know the witch used to read and read and read 15 H!^ -"..i iHJ W\ t m !r^ 11' |; ;!' ' '•' \ I \.:. ;;„:■ ■ 1 1,1) - ■ t\ ii; :.■' ■ 1 lit ;lif il'i '■ t ii! . r\ Ill .'.' !'. i ii .. ' , *■ \\u • \ ■■; ! 1^ ■ 1 '■ 'ii i '■ I • \m I- . ¥■ 226 CHATA AND CHINITA. '•/ffi*^' i : I • ■' ': ■ M, strange words to the poor w»«a, and she grew paler and paler, and more and more sad." "And the witch died?" queried Feliz, thinking of Mademoiselle La Croix. " Yes, in a good hour," answered Chinita, energetically'. "But I forgot; you must know it all, Doiia Feliz. Tell me," — with her old gossiping habit, — "tell me, did the Senorita love the American? Was it for him she pined away ; or because she was bewitched ; or was it because the Senora would not let her marry the Seiior Gonzales, but would send her to the convent to pray for the wicked Don Leon?" " Quien sabe? Who knows?" answered Dofia Feliz, in the non-committal phrase a Mexican finds so conven- ient. " It is not for us to chatter of the Senorita Hcrlinda. Peace be with her ! and have a care how you mention her name to Dofia Isabel." Her brow contracted as she thought how many conjectures, how much gossip of which she had known nothing, had been busy with events she had believed quite passed from remembrance. ASIILE not eatin or more fectly we J^'een pro] he had b( though le] vided witl knowledge know were l>ona Isab and in her in the pur inquire aft( entered to never ton.cl him ^hen s him he inw cienda on t exertion. ; had sapped of securing prisoner. , would fall i solve never were set at more perple The nurse dian peasant constantly ii some trust, j the mere coi fel^ herself oi tence with tl; and to be pre X Feliz, convcn- [dlinda. mention Li as she 3f which cnts she XXVI. Ashley Ward had been, an invohintary though perhaps not entirely an unwilhng guest, at Tres Ilermanos a month or more before it dawned upon him that he was not a per- fectly welcome one. Throughout his illness, which had been prolonged by the peculiar nursing and diet to which he had been for the first time in his life subjected, he had, though left almost entirely to the care of Sclsa, been pro- vided with luxuries and delicacies that even his imperfect knowledge of the country and situation enabled him to know were rare and costly, and most dilHcult to obtain. Dona Isabel Garcia was like a princess in her quiet dignity and in her gifts ; and like a princess too, he grew to think, in the punctiliousness with which, every day, she sent to inquire after his health, and the infrcquency with which she entered to express a hope that he lacked nothing. She never tou.ched his hand, seldom indeed turned her eyes upon him when she spoke, and never smiled ; and when she left him he inwardly raged, and vowed he would leave the ha- cienda on the morrow, even though he should die from the exertion. But his wound was slow in healing ; the fever had sapped his strength ; he was alone, and no opportunity of securing escort presented itself. He was virtually a prisoner. And besides, after these periods of vexation he would fall into a fit of musing, which would end in the re- solve never to leave Tres Hermanos until certain doubts were set at rest, which from day to day grew more and more perplexing. The nurse, Selsa, was more communicative than the In- dian peasant woman is apt to be. She had been employed constantly in and about the great house in positions of some trust, and had lost thn t awe of superiors, which held the mere common people dumb. In a sense, indeed, she felt herself one of the family, privileged to use gentle insis- tence with the sick, even against their aristocratic wills, and to be present, though eyes and ears were to be as blind ..." ill. I III ii i; Iff-' 228 CHATA AND CIIINITA. \l:\ I III I and deaf as the walls around her, while matters of family polity were at least hinted at, if not openly discussed. She had in fact been to the house of Garcia " the confidential servant," without which no Mexican household is com- plete, — one of those peculiar beings who however falso, cruel, deceitful, and thievish with the world in general is silent as the grave, devoted even unto death, true as tlie lode-star, to the person or family which she serves. There was something in the personality of this wrinkled crone, growing out of these relations, which early impressed the young American ; and gradually he grew to feel that he was face to face with an oracle, had he but the magic to unseal her lips, as the witch-like Chinita had had to change her air of vexed though friendly equality into unob- trusive yet unmistakable deference. Other servants who came and went spoke with some envy and spite of the sud- den elevat'.on of the gatekeeper's foster-child. But Selsa, sitting in the doorway of the sick man's room, combing out her long black locks, — for that, though she never suc- ceeded in smoothing them, was her favorite occupation, — would glance askance at Ward and say, — "Be silent! the Seiiora knows what she does. Go now ! she has a heart like any other Christian. What was to become of the girl, now that Pedro will be leaving for the wars? Would you have Don 'Guardo think we are barbarians here, who would leave the innocents to be de- voured like lambs by the coyotes?" Don 'Guardo was the name Selsa had evolved from Ward, which she had perhaps believed to be the foreign contraction of Eduardo ; and as Ashley, with boyish en- thusiasm easily acquiring the limited vocabulary of those around him, began to relieve the monotony of his convales- cence by listening to their conversations, and asking some idle questions, he found himself answering to the conve- nient appellation and alluding to himself by it, until it be- came as familiar to his ears as his own baptismal name, and certainly conveyed far more friendliness to him than the formal Senor Ward, which Don Rafael and his mother rendered with infinite stumbling over the unattainable W. There was a subdued excitement throughout the hacienda upon the day that Don 'Guardo first appeared at the great gateway. Pedro was sitting there in the dull, dejected CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 229 manner suggestive of loss, or waiting, or both ; and it was only when Florencia, with an exclamation, twitched his sleeve that he looked up. ''^ Maria Sanctissi7na!'* he stammered, staggering to his feet. Ashley stood in the dim light in the rear of the deep vestibule, with his hand on Pep*;'s shoulder, — for the boy had been called to attend him, — but with a sudden faint- noss he had paused to rest against the stone wall hung with serpents. Ashley was a handsome youth, but in Pedro's eyes a thousand times more startling than the most hideou snake or savage beast. So had he seen John Ashley stand a hundred times or more, not pale and trembling, but full of life and jo}'. Was this his sad ghost, come with re- proachful eyes to haunt him? " It is the Sefior American," said Florencia. " My life ! how pale he looks! ,Go, go, Pepito! bring him hither before the carriage of my Senora drives in ; here it is at the very gate." Pedro instantlj^ recovered his usual stoicism. "Wait, Seiior!" he said, "jou are well placed where you are. The carriage can pass and not throw an atom of dust on you." And at that moment the feet of the horses and the rattle of wheels were heard on the stone paving, and the hacienda carriage was driven rapidly into the courtyard. As it passed, Ashley caught a glimpse of Dofia Isabel — how pale and statuesque ! — and beside her a creature radiant in triumph, who nodded to Pedro as she passed ; her smile seeming to sa}', " Behold me !" Hers was not an ignoble pride, but the wild exultation of an eaglet that had been chained to earth, and for the first time had tried its wings in the empyrean. That morning Dona Isabel had said, " Chinita, thou shalt go with me ; " and though the lady's brows had risen a little when with unconscious audacity the girl had taken the seat beside her, and not that opposite, where Doiia Feliz was wont to sit, she said nothing. "The child is pale," she thought, "and needs the air ; there is no one to heed that she sits beside me." It would be hard to tell what were the thoughts of Chi- nita ; they were a sudden delirium after the intense quiet of the semi-imprisonment, whicli she had borne with stoical fortitude for the sake of a dimly seen future of power. In this enforced quiet, day by day, her ambitions were shaj>ing {.I \% 230 CHATA AND ClflNITA. W i I ' " themselves ; the dominant passion of her being was seek- ing a point from wliich she might have advantage over all tlie narrow field within the range of her mental vision. As yet her aspirations knew no name ; they were mere vague, impatient longings, or rather impatient spurning of the old ignoble conditions of life. To ride in a carriage was an intoxication to her, because the low-born peasant went afoot. She chafed in a very thraldom of inaction because the high-born toiled not. She loved the rustle of a gaudy silk, while her hand shrank from the contact of the stiff and rustUng fabric, because such attire was only for the rich and <|reat. As undefined as had been the joy with which she had heard she was a Garcia, was still the delight of each fresh conquest that she made. No eager virtuoso groping in the dark among undescribcd treasures could be more ignorant j'et more wildly anticipotive of the glories the daylight should discover than she of what the future should reveal. From where Don 'Guardo and his o ^^rndant stood, they could see Doiia Isabel and Chinita as iLioy descended from the carriage. Dofia Isabel, without glancing around, as- cended the stairs to her own apartment. Chinita followed a step or two behind, then turned and paused. Her quick eye scanned the little group that had gathered in the court. Ashley Ward himself was startled bj' the change that had passed over her since he had seen her last. What had been elfish in her wild abandonment of bearing had be- come a subtle grace of manner, which gave piquancy to a hauteur that counterfeited the dignity of inherent noble- ness. "The gypsy has borrowed the air of a queen !" was tiic thougTit of the American. He felt Pepe quiver beneath his hand, and looking at him saw a sullen fire 111 ills dark, slumberous eyes, tliough his lips were white and his dusky face ashen as if a chill had seized him. The girl had overlooked him and all the plebeian crowd, and her eyes rested in a triumphant challenge on Ashley. She smiled, and a ray of sunlight darted down and rcd- >''■'■=( h I l)ilG of buildings ; hero on the sandy slope in front, the village of adobe thatched with knife-grass ; there along the line of the watercourse, the few straggling huts of the miners and laborers ; there away to the right, the low walls of the reduction-works with its tall brick chinniey, and in its rear the gaping clell of the mountain which marked tiie entrance to the mine. All now was silent and deserted ; yet for a moment he seemed to look upon it with other eyes, and to sec tiie trains of laden nmlcs filing in and out of the wide gateways, and to trace tlie black smoke rising in a column to the cloudless sky. "This must be the place ! " he inwardly exclaimed ; and drawing from his breast-pocket a Hat case of papers, he selected from them a torn and j'ellow letter, and read it slowly over, ever and anon raising his eyes to identify some point in the de- scription, which a hand as young, more firm, more reso- lute than his own, had in an hour of leisure so accumtely written years before. The date of the missive was gone, and with it the name of this new place in which the writer seemed to have found an earthly paradise, — " not want- ing," as he said at the close of the letter, " an Eve to be at once the gem of this perfect setting, and the inaccessible star to wliicli poor mortals may raise longing eyes, but may never hope to win." Ashley smiled as he read the words. Who could this divinity have been ? But for other letters that had been put into his hands ho would have thought the paragraph mere bathos, boyish gush, and sentiment; but it was a prelude to what might prove a strange and fateful series of events. Somewhere here his cousin had years ago lived and loved and been done to death ; and his mission was to trace the sequence of these events, and to learn whether or no with John Ashley' had passed away all possible influence upon the fortunes of his own life. Until within a few months such questions had never occurred to him. The John Ashley whom he had dimly remembered had been murdered years before ; and so had ended an adventurous career, which had been his own clioice, or perhaps his evil destiny. To Ward, as to others, that had been the sum and substance of the tragedy which had thrown a gloom for a time over all the family, and had stricken a proud mother to the heart. She had sufTercc never |] with no she whc and ent AsJdey'i tliat woi for the T^ iiis last ; in beJiali tlie confl HerJinda name rin could mj of those lint wha-t who has r " The 1 W^ard ha( feared cot misery." "I' don fs a wild c investigate any dangci fear in my 'i'lie idea mere possi which, as t] »iore pain worked upc sudden Ij', — profited by i % his aunt' Pcrty that . "eitiier he nc r*eople sh "J*oor soul, 'rhe news tliG war had fai* from exa( inquiries had i en ATA AND CHINITA. 233 tlio long ' the (valls ;k1 in a i\ic itcd ; other il out rising ic the m his I them er and lie tle- B reso- iii-ately J gone, J -writer t -want- to be at ccssible C8, but Id this id been •agraph -was a . scries go lived ion was learn way all life. cl never dimly so had [lis own . others, tragedy family, She had sulfered years in silence, the name of her wayward son never passing her lips ; her young daughter had grown up witli no knowledge of her brother but his name. It was she who after the mother's death had found these letters, and entreated her cousin to seek the fatal spot of John Ashley's death, — surely there must be somewhere records that would give the exact location, — and to make inquiries for the wife, and for the possible child, of whom he wrote in liis last short letter, full of passionate appeal to his mother in behalf of the young creature who for him had forfeited the confidence, perhaps the love, of her own. " Herlinda I Herlinda ! Herlinda ! " was the burden of the letter. " The name rings in my ears," Mary Ashley had said. *' How could my mother have been deaf to it? She thought of those people as barbarous, false, cruel, treacherous. But wha-t matters that to me, if there is among them one who has my brother's blood, or one who loved him ? " " The marriage laws of those countries are strange,'* Ward had ventured to sa}'. "Perhaps 3'our mother feared complications which could but bring disgrace and misery." "1 do not fear them," said Mary Ashley, proudly. " It is a wild country for a woman to go to, but if you will not investigate this matter, I will brave any inconvenience, any danger, io do so. I cannot live with this tantalizing fear m my heart." The idea that tormented Mary seemed at best that of a mere possibility to Ashley, — the possibility of an event which, as the mother had seen, might if proved bring far more pain than joy, especially at this late date ; yet it worked upon his mind gradually, as it had upon Mary's suddenly, — perhaps the more surely because he personally profited by the supposition that his cousin had died unwed. By his aunt's will he had been left the share in her pro- perty that John would have inherited, on condition that neither he nor any legitimate heir should appear to claim it. People shrugged their shoulders and smiled pityingly. " Poor soul, had she then doubted her son's death? " The news had reached Mrs. Ashle}' in an irregular way ; the war had supervened, and particulars had been few and far from exact. "But later, tlirough some business house, inquiries had been made and some few books and almost W |I«"'M Sll i Ji' ii -:■ ii 234 CI/ATA AND CIIINITA. >! I- worthless articles of clothing had been obtained from an alcalde, who swore they had been the dead man's sole cH'ects. Certainl}' the proofs had been irregular but sulll- cient. What could one expect from such a lawless set of uncivihzed renegades, who knew nothing of civil or inter- national law, and were bent on the sole task of extermin- ating one another? They smiled at the condition in the will, and pitied the poor woman who could thus hope against hope. Ashley Ward himself, the orphan nephew whom his aunt had loved with a jealous devotion, which at times wearied him by its suspicions and exactions, at llrst smiled also. But when Mary brought to him the frag- ments of three old letters to read, just as his mind was filled with plans for a career which the possession of ample wealth and leisure seemed to justify', and which in poverty he could never have dared aspire to, he grew thoughtful, moody at times, — then suddenly his own impetuous, generous self again. " I will go to Mexico, Mary," he said, " and bring j'ou word of your brother's life there. No doubts shall shake their spectre fingers at me in m}' prosperity, nor torment your loving and anxious soul." " Good, true cousin ! " was all she answered. She per- haps did not realize what eflfcct upon the prospects of Ashle}'^ the results of this journey might possibly have ; the}' dawned upon her little by little as the days went by and no news came of him. The daring traveller had been obliged to enter Mexico at some obscure point. The Liberal government under Juarez was Installed at Vera Cruz ; the Conservatives held the City of Mexico ; and the length and breadth of the country was in a state of riot and ferment, torn and devastated by roving bands who changed their politics as readily as their encampments. Ashley's journey through the Republic was like a passage over smouldering coals between two fires, and constant address and fearlessness were required to avoid collision with either faction, — his ignorance of the language and causes of contention per- haps serving him a good turn in making natural the in- (litf'crence and absolute impartiality which he could never so successfully have assumed had his' sympathies been ever so slightly biassed. In th( hopeless alien wh before. and mod uno/lluial the Mexi Ashley dllllcultie knowledg name of visited, r< isolated a seemed in "Jgs, offer pen of his abandonee but for a neither nei was mentii craploymei distant ha covered, w ever, to h make it wo of precious with recorc been perfo] The trip bad state c a«id with bu aries of the American a savage Jmm redoubtable rather lieavi to ride in } Knglish, th( that the you fact a priso exchanging j tlie dashinji 1 1 . . ',, :, ■ CHATA AND CHINITA. 235 nnin- in the hope jphcw lich at it iU'st i frag- d was ion of liieh ill } grew L3 owu ng you 1 shake torment »hc pcr- )ects of have ; ^cnt by |0" In the distracted state of the country it was ahnost a hopeless task to endeavor to trace the movements of an alien who had lived in it but a short time, and that years before. If any record had been made of the exact place and mode of John Ashley's death, it certainly had been unollicial, and retained no place in the archives of cither the Mexican or American government. Ashley Ward was at first appalled by the unexpected dilllculties that he encountered. Inquiries brought to his knowledge the existence of several haciendas bearing the name of Los Tres Hermanos ; and these he successively visited, reserving to the last that which lay in the most isolated and mountain-begirt district, — a point which it seemed impossible could, amid wild and sterile surround- ings, offer the panorama of beauty and fertility which the pen of his cousin had described. He would perhaps have abandoned his search, at least for that unpropitious time, but for a re-perusal of the first letter which contained neither news nor descriptions of importance, but in which was mentionc(i the fact that the writer had been offered employment by the family of Garcia. The owners of the distant hacienda of Tres Hermanos, Ashley Ward dis- covered, were called Garcia, — a name too common, how- ever, to be any proof of identity, yet which seemed to make it worth his while to spend another month or more of precious time in the search, which in another country, with records of average exactness, would perhaps have been performed in one or two days. The trip had been made as quickly as the excessively bad state of the roads at the rainy season would allow, and with but few divergences and delays •, and the bound- aries of the estate had been already passe*.! when the young American and his servant were, in a merry rather than a savage humor, detained or rather actually captured by the redoubtable Calvo, who to amuse the leisure that hung rather heavily upon his hands invited the 3'oung American to ride in his company. In his broken but expressive English, the frcebootar uttered such courteous phrases that the yoimg man was quite unconscious that he was in fact a prisoner, and passed a not uninteresting day in exchanging political opinions, local and international, with the dashing chieftain, — wlio, while apparently absorbed s V iit*^ illlil I I ml m m liili; Vi I lilt 230 CI/ATA AND ClflNlTA. in the novelty and pleasure of listening to the conversa- tion of liis involuntary guest, was mentally preparing the Bi)eecU in which he should convey to hiui on the morrow the terms of ransom for himself and servant, — a likely fellow whom Calvo had more than half a mind to add to the number of his followers. But the servant himself had no illusions as to the glory of fighting or the chances of booty, and sometime during the night in which they were encampeil at the ranchito of Kl Refugio managed to elude the lax watchfulness of the troop, who had made a merry meal on freshly killed lambs and such other modest viands as Dona Isabel Gar- cia's trembling shepherds could furnish, and without so much as a word of warning to the American had escaped, — bearing with him the small bag of necessaries of which he had charge, a pair of silver-mounted pistols, and a sum of money wliich Ward had been assured would in case of attack and capture be more secure in the possession of this " loyal and honest man " than in his own. Ashley had barely had time to realize the defection of his servant, to suspect his actual position as a pris- oner in the hands of the courteous but mercenary and implacable Calvo, and wrathfully to regret the ignorant trustfulness with which he had divided with the nuich lauded servant the risk of transporting his funds, retaining in his own hands perhaps not enough to meet the rapa- cious demands of his captors, when suddenly his medita- tions were interrupted by cries of confusion, shouts, the crack of rifles, the whizzing of balls, challenges and deliant 3'eils, the shrieks of women, and the groans and appeals of the helpless shepherds, — followed by the sight of huts ablaze, of frightened flocks wildly bleating and rushing bliiidl}' under the ver}' feet of the horses, which trampled tiiem down, while their keepers, as bewildered as they, fell victims to the mad zeal and excitement of the opposing troops who had so uncxpcctedl}' met on that isolated spot. It was conjectured that the missing servant had in his ilight to the mountains accidental!}' come upon the soldiers of the Clergy, and to turn attention from himself had be- trayed the proximity of the Liberals. A hurried march in the early morning hours had proved the truth of the ser- CIIATA AND ClllNlTA. 237 vant's information ; and the snrpriao and some advaniajjo in niiinbers — for tho Captain Alva had Hpokon witli a tracts of the usual exaggeration of tlic speech of his countrymen, in deacribing tho enemy as numbering three hundred — turiKid tlie chances in favor of tlie attacikiiig part}' ; al- thougli (y'alvo at fust seemed inclined to(H)ntest the matter ol»stinately, and Ward, with an invohmtary feeling of fealty to his host (though he had already' some inkling of his intcuitions in regard to himself) had ranged himsi-lf upon his side, lie soon saw with indignation, however, that the defence of the poor villagers held no part in Cairo's thoughts. To frustrate some movement of tho enemy, ho actually ordered the firing of a hut in which women and children had taken refuge ; and it was while defending the humble spot from Puro and Mocho alike, that Ward received the won ,d which disabled him, — that covered with blows from muskets and swords ho fell, and trampled beneath the feet of the now Hying and pursuing soldiers, for a few horrible moments believed himself doomed to die in a senseless melee, in which his only interest had been to protect tho weak, but in which ho recognized no inherent principle of right. Later ho saw in those apparently senseless broils the throes and struggles of an undisciplined and purblind nation toward the attainment of a dimly seen ideal of justice and free- dom, and learned the truth that these people, who seemed so lightly swayed by the mere love of adventure, held within their breasts tho divine spark that distinguishes man from the brute, — the deathless fire of patriotism. They too could suffer, bear imprisonment, famine, even death, for freedom. But these were none of Ashley Ward's reflections as ho found himself laid apart from three or four dead men, who had been hurriedly thrown together for burial, and after being subjected to a hasty examination — which resulted in the abstraction of his remaining funds, his watch and other valuables, and the binding up of his wound — lifted to the back of a raw-boned troop-horse, and forced to join the march of the triumphant guerillas. He would have preferred to be left to the care of the houseless and desti- tute shepherds ; but Captain Alva, whether with the hope of some ultimate benefit from the capture of the foreigner \ ,-,{ i i:| L,l iiU; |fM li^ ^ ■'i' i M; ^ (.'< 5 1 . I* • I S ':! 238 CHATA AND CIIINITA. or not it 's li- possible to tell, professed himself horrified at the barbarity of deserting him, — and, as we have seen later, in api.rchension of liis death from exposure to the sun, and the fever that seized him, availed himself of the opportunity of evading the responsibility of the death of an American upon his hands, by delivering him to the care of Dona Isabel Garcia. And so, still weak, and destitute of money until he could arrange for a supply from the City of Mexico, but full of hope, confident that he had reached his goal, and that a fev, discreet inquiries would give him the informa- tion he sought, and perhaps allay forever the doubts that tormented his sensitive conscience, Ashley Ward drew a deep breath of satisfaction as he sat at the hacienda gate ; and in an animated mood, which supplemented his in- sufficient Spanish, addressed himself to the reticent and gloomy Pedro, startling him from his usual stoicism by the exclaraii^ior , "And you, m}' man, can you tell me of the Amoi- can jr^ur foster-child spoke of? There is not so much happ'jjis here tbfit you can have forgotten." Had i.shley kno^vn an3'thing of the instincts and cus- toms of the genuine rai'chero, he would have begun his investigations in a far more guarded manner. That a cer- tain Don Juan had met a blood}' death there years before, he alreadj' knew ; that this had been his cousin, he sur- mised ; that the gatekeeper should know more of the do- mestic life of an employee of the hacienda than the owner herself, or even the administrador, was a natural conclu- sion. But had Ashley Ward wished to seal the lips of the suspicious and astute gatekeeper, he could not have cho- sen a more effective manner of accomplishing it. As well touch the horns of a snail and expect that it would not withdraw into its shell, as to question this man directly and hope to learn augtit of value. Pedro looked t.t the inquirer from under the shadow of his bushy eyebrows and wide hat ; and though his heart bounded, his face became a very mask of rustic stupid- ity as he answered, " Your grace has had much fever with vour wound. Heaven and all the saints be thanked that you are young and healthy, and will soon be as strong as ever." " Um ! " ejaculated Ward, for the moment disconcerted. idow of heart stupid- er with ed that rong as icerted. CHATA AND CHINITA. 239 " T? es, I have had fever, but that ha» nothing to do with the American. He was a living man fourteen or fifteen years ago, if there be any truth in what your — young mistress told me." He hesitated how to designate the giiJ, whose status and relations seemed so strangely undefined. Pedro's eyes for a moment lightened. Pep6 laughed ironically, yet he would have turned like a wild beast on another ^yho had done so. " Who speaks much, speaks to his undoing," quoth Pedro, gruflly, and turned away ; yet he ej'ed the young American furtively, \vrith an inborn hostility to his race, an unreasoning belief that in the guise of such fair temp- ters lurked the demon who would destroy unwary dam- sels body and soul, j^et with an almost irresistible desire to unburden his soul of the weight that had so long oppressed it, to cr}' aloud, " I can tell you all you would kaow, — how the American lived, how he died, how the child he never saw lives after him. Is it her you seek? And why?" Pedro clenched his hands with a gasp. He remembered that the natural instincts of kindred had changed to bitter- ness against Herlinda's child. She had been cast out, dis- owned, deserted. Who was this stranger, this foreigner, that he should be more just, more generous, toward the doubtful off'spring of one who had died years before ? How should he even guess such a child to be in existence? No, he could not guess it. What a mad thought had darted through his own brain I Pedro actually laughed at his own perplexed imaginings. What! the secret of Herlinda, which had been kept so inscrutabl}^ in danger from this idle news-seeker? Preposterous! yet an odd conceit entered the gatekeeper's mind : '* The blind man dreamed that he saw, and dreamed what he desired." This groping youth had come far to inquire into the fate of a man long dead, — it must be because it would bring him profit, for it did not for a moment occur to Pedro that the questions asked were from mere idle curiosity, — and would it be possible anything should escape him ? " Well, what God wills, the saints themselves cannot hinder." Pedro sat down upon the stone bench opposite, in an \ I H li IL P'' ill ■; * 1 1 ' ■■ii« ' 1>» . Jill: ,: I!' 240 CHATA AND CHINITA. alTcctation of sullen obstinacy. Ashley was weary and chagrined, and in silence looked over the landscape with an increasing sense of recognition. Pepe stood in the same lounging attitude, patiently waiting. One might have thought him carved of wood against the stone wall, yet of the three men he it was whose passions were fiercest, whose thoughts like unbridled coursers followed one an- other in mad confusion. , His mind was full of Chinita ! Chinita! Chinita! her beauty, her insolent grace, — the memory of her pretty, haughty ways when she had been but a barefoot, ragged peasant like himself, and the con- templation of the hopeless height to which she had risen. Never before had he been conscious that he had aspired. Now, bruised, torn, wounded as if by a fall into hopeless depths, he saw her image swimming before his disordered vision ; he thought of her as a princess, a goddess, yet he laughed when he heard her named as mistress. Such was the mood in which Pepe presently listened to the disconnected dialogue between Pedro and the guest, who was hampered by a language strange to him, and by suspicious caution on the part of the gatekeeper. For the first time in his life, Pepe was struck by a peculiarity in Pedro with which he had always been acquainted ; namely, his unwillingness to speak of the tragedy, which to other minds had seemed no more horrible than scores of others that had occurred in the neighborhood and were common subjects of conversation. As he listened, Pepe became conscious that Pedro was detracting from the interest of the tale rather than adding to it; and when the young American at last said inquiringly, " And the cause of this murder was never known ? There was no woman — " he was startled that Pedro answered not with the old jest, " Was there ever an evil but that a woman was at the root of it?" but rose and strode rapidly away. " There was a woman," muttered Ward, looking after him, "and the gatekeeper knew her. I have found the man who can tell me of Herlinda." He spoke in English, but Pepe the eager listener caught the name "Herlinda." Five minutes later, when Ward turned to speak to the j^outh, he found him with his hands clasped, stretched out before him, his eyes staring into vacancy. CHATA AND CHINITA. 241 "Idiot I" was tho half contemptuous, half pitying com- ment of the American. Little guessed he that the conver- sation that had seemed to result in so little to him had offered both a suggestion and an inspiration to the peasant, — the very key to the problem which he had himself come so far and dared so much to solve. I iiiif m ill 16 :;*: Ward hands Fill- • rMi 'i >%:' !,, ,! ffn^fi XXVII. Upon the following day, Ashley Ward went again to the gateway, — not merely to breathe the fresh air and en- joy the view, but irresistibly attracted by the remembrance of the taciturn warder. The more he reflected upon the cmotioD the man had shown when his eyes first rested upon him, a stranger, as he had entered the vestibule ; the more he thought upon the guarded replies to the questions he had asked concerning the young American who had been there jears before, — the more convinced he became that there had been a mystery which had led to his kinsman's death, and that Pedro, if he would, could divulge it. Was it possible the man himself was the assassin? The perplexed youth began to sound Pepd cautiously as to the reputation Pedro had borne. But the young fellow was absorbed in other matters, of which Ashley rightly conjec- tured Chinita was the vital point, and was wandering and curt in his answers. Yet he seemed to feel that Ashley divined, if he did not comprehend, his pain, and so at- tached himself to him and followed him about, much as might a wounded dog some stranger who had spoken to him with an accent of pity in his voice. So when Ashley went to the gateway, it was Pepe's arm that aided him, though with the impatience of a 3'oung man he protested against this need of a crutch, and had actually walked steadily enough across the court, under the gaze of Dofia Feliz and Chinita, who happened to be in the window ; but he had been glad to clutch at Pepd as they entered the vestibule. The lad was not trembling then, but erect and flushed : Chinita had smiled upon him as he passed. Pedro was standing in the gateway, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing toward the canon which opened behind the reduction-works. He did not notice Ashley and Pepo, bnt presently began to mutter: "Yes, it is I thoo, I daught dinner. Pepd said; ' now ; e your bic comes t] "Go l>lind, th like a do the cano briel and faces. " So cou the travel ral at the into a ms ordinary' t Pepe, ii usual lour the approf had asscD young fig, stone bene surprise sa anticipatioi about to s] self close t where she No one bt behind her, "Hush! we here, — ^ere a good JJoiia Isabel and Dona F( again.'' The excite yet Pedro crowd were CHATA AND CHINITA. 243 lis eyes wbicli notice "Yes, it is they. Don Rafael has had a lucky journey. Go thou, Chinita, arc' tell Dona Feliz the master and her daughter-in-law and children will be here for the noon dinner." Pepe laughed derisively. "You r«jrget, Pedro," he said; "it is the nina Chinita, and thj Senorita Chinita now ; even if she heard, she is scarce likely to run at your bidding. But are j'ou sure the Seiior Administrador comes there ? If so, I will mj'self go and tell them." " Go then, go ! " cried Tedro, impatiently. " I am not blind, though old usu^ e sometimes misleads me, and I talk like a dotard. Yes, yes. There comes the carriage down the canon, and Don Rafael himself on his gray, and Ga- briel and Panchito ; I can almost distinguish their very faces. " So could Ashley, for the air was brilliantly clear, and the travellers had 3ielded to the inspiring influences natu- ral at the sight of home, and allowed their horses to break into a mad pace, far different from the methodic gait of ordinar}' travel. Pepe, in spite of repressed excitement, had gone at his usual lounging and listless pace to inform Dona Feliz of the approach of her son, and a little group of villagers had assembled around Pedro, when a lithe, active young figure brushed by them and leaped upon the stone bench at Ashley's side. He glanced up, and to his surprise saw Chinita, her hair flying, her eyes bright with anticipation. Putting her finger upon her lip as he was about to speak, as if to enjoin silence, she pressed her- self close to the wall. There was a long narrow niche where she stood, and it received almost her entire figure. No one but Ashley and Pepe, who came with haste behind her, bad noticed her. " Hush ! hush ! " she whispered. " Chata will look for me here, — bore where I used to stand. Ay, Pepe, 30U were a good lad to warn me in time, so I could slip away. Doiia Isabel will never miss me, — she is at her prayers ; and Dona Feliz is wild with joy that her son comes home again." The excited girl had spoken in the softest of voices, yet Pedro heard her. But the rest of the gathering crowd were craning their necks and straining their eyes it m I \. 244 CHATA AND CHINITA. 'r-A ■f't; t' f, !■:::- \ ■\ ■ ( in the direction in which the approaching travellers were to be seen. Pepc looked up at the ardent and gyp85'-like young crea- ture, as though she were a saint, and Ashley with a glance of genuine admiration and sympathy. He knew not whom she was thus eager to welcome, but it thrilled and sur- prised him that she should manifest such lively affection. Both the young men instinctively drew near as if to shield her, and stood one on either side, almost hiding her. " That is right ; but you will stand away and let her see me when the carriage drives by," she whispered, placing a hand on Pepe's shoulder. " Dios miOy how my heart beats ! She will cry with joy when she sees me, with silk skirts and all so fine. And Dona Rita and the niiia Rosario, — how they will open wide their eyes ! " And she broke into a low laugh, which to Ashley's ear" was too full of a sort of malicious triumph to be merry. The time of waiting seemed long; it was indeed far longer than Chinita had counted upon. " They will miss me from the house ; they will look for me here ! " she whispered again and again in an agony of impatience. Strangely enough, the adults of the gaping throng, who were intent on watching the approach of the travellers, had not noticed her ; but three or four children arrayed themselves in a wondering row, pointing their fingers at her with ej^iculations of " Look ! look ! " but were checked from uttering more by Pepe's warning frowns and Chi- nita's own imploring gestures. Ashley was beginning to realize that there must be much that was absurd in the scene. Surely, never was so strange a background made for a group of gossiping peasants as this of the eager-eyed and beautiful girl, leaning from her niche in the massive stone-wall between the two young men — the one the type of aristocratic refinement and delicacy ; the other of swarthy, ignorant, half-tamed savagery — who served as caryatids, upon whom she leaned alternntolj' in licr excitement, seeming herself to partake of the nature of each. The carriage with its group of outriders now rapidly ap- proached. "Ah! ah!" exclaimed Chinita, "the horses are plunging at the tree where the American was murdered. They say the creatures can always see him there, Senior. CHATA AND CHINITA. 245 Ah, now they have passed ; they come gayl}', they como straight. It is not only the Seiior Admiiiistrador and the servants, there arc strangers too. I am glad ! I am happj'^ ! I love to see new faces ! " "Be silent!" whispered Pcpc, hurriedly; "all the world will hear if you sing so loud. (Jarrhi ! the sol- dier sees 3'ou ! " It was true ; though the villagers had been too intent up- on welcoming the new-comers to heed Chinita, and the car- riage flashed by so rapidly the inmates could have caught but a glimpse of color against the cold gray wall, a stranger in a travel-stained uniform started as his eyes fell upon her, and checked his horse so suddenly that it reared. " The Virgin of our native land ! " he muttered in a sort of patriotic and admiring wonder. *' Ah, what a beautiful creature ! " he added, as the girl he had for a moment classed as a saint sprang from her niche to the bench and thence to the ground, and darted through the crowd to the inner court, — where by this time the carriage had stopped and its inmates were descending. Ashley sank upon the bench with a sudden access of weariness. Pedro, oblivious of his vicinity, crouched rather than sat beside him. The gatekeeper's nerves doubtless were weak. The carriage that had driven into the court was the same in which Herlinda Garcia had departed years before ; as it dashed by him he could have sworn he saw her face framed in the window. He had seen, as had Chinita, the sad and gentle coimtenance of Chata. Grief reveals strange likenesses. When Chinita reached the carriage door, she found it blocked by the descending travellers and those who wel- comed them. Dorta Rita was so slow in carefully placing her feet from step to step, and paused so often to answei- salutations, that there was ample time for the young ofli- cer to reach the spot and extend a hand to Rosario who followed her. Her blushes and coy smiles ; the air with which she drew back and with which, with a little shriek, she pulled her dress over her tinj' foot lest it might be seen ; the soft glances which she threw from beneath her long lashes, — formed a pretty piece of by -play, quite in- telligible to all beholders, but for that time certainly quite thrown away upon the Gtranger. ■iij: i mil 24G CHATA AND CHINITA. \{'A f^'f ■i: I It. v.: Ten minutes before, to have held for a few brief minutes the tips of Rosario's fingers would have been to him ecstasy. Now he was scarcely conscious that they were within his own, and his eyes were fixed upon Chinita as she stood breathlessly waiting for Chata. Never in his life, he thought, had he seen such a face. The changeable yet ever radiant expression was like the dazzle of warm sunshine through scented leaves ; the shimmer of rebellious hair was a divine halo, though the sparkle of the dusky eyes declared a daring soul more fit for earthly adventure than ethereal joys. Rosario's eyes followed his gaze. She had heard the strange tale of Dona Isabel's intervention in the fate of the waif. She had wondered whether the high-born lady could have seen anything in the girl's face that attractcsd her ; and that moment more decidedly than ever she an- swered " No," yet realized that here was ;j, face to be- witch men. She tossed her head and passed on. Dona Feliz stopped her to embrace her, and meanwhile the two early playmates met. *' Life of my soul!" cried Chinita. *' How 1 have longed for you! Did you not see me perched in the niche of the wall? Ay, how Dona Isabel would frown if she knew!" " I saw only the tall, fair man," answered Chata in a low voice. She was pale and trembled : " I thought first it was the ghost of the American. Oh God, what a shock ! " Chinita laughed merrily. " What ! a coward still, and with the old stories we used to tell still first in j'our mind ? Ah, I have tales to tell now will be worth your hearing." She bent low and added in a whisper, " Have they not told you? I have the place of the Senorita Herlinda she must look like think sometimes her stead. Do I now ! I have her room. I be dead, and I have risen in a ghost, Chata ? " " Hush, hush ! " entreated Chata. " Oh Chinita, I wish I never had gone away. Oh, how shall I live now ? How can I bear it?" At that moment Dofia Feliz approached, and evading her proffered embrace the young girl bent her head on the arm of the woman and burst into tears. Chinita stood confou] * certa: turned "Wl "Chi man is ; here qu her han apart. Almo! ing low, obeyed rage pos some der neck and "I an said. "] laughed, j the Amer Her la! Ashley y\ appollatio stairs, an( Her eyes The yoi ing arm. woman's c a revelatic "Your for a ranc irony; bu added, "S have stran A lau<,„ and lookec slowly awa Chata gi why. Hci and haugh from Dona seemed to had met, b 1"' CHATA AND CHINITA. 247 confounded ; the light and joyousnces died out of her face ; a certain half-savage look of inquiry came over it. She turned abruptly to the young officer, — "What have they done to her? " she demanded. "Chinita," said a cold, impassive voice, "this gentle- man is a stranger to you. It is not seemly that you stand here questioning him ; " and with an imperious wave of her hand, Dona Isabel seemed actually to force the two apart. Almost unconsciously the young man drew back, bow- ing low, and Chinita turned to the staircase ; yet as she obeyed the movement of Dona Isabel's hand a furious rage possessed her. As she stepped upon the -first stair, some demon prompted ber to wind her arm around Chata's neck and raise her tear-stained face. "I am going to the Sciiorita HerUnda's room," she said. " I am there in her place ; and — " here she stopped, laughed, and threw a glance over her sL ulder — " there is the American ! " Her last words had been prompted by a glimpse of Ashley Ward as he crossed the court. He caught the appellation, and bowed and smiled. Chinita ran up the stairs, and Dona Isabel stood rigid with a face like death. Her eyes were resting however on Chata's countenance. The young girl had shrunk within Dona Feliz's protect- ing arm. Had Doiia Isabel turned her eyes upon the woman's defiant yet apprehensive face, it might have been a revelation to her ; but she looked at Don Rafael. " Your daughter has a strange face and strange ways for a ranchcro's daughter," she said, with an attempt at irony; but it failed. Her face worked painfully as she added, " She reminds me of those I would forget We have strange fancies as we grow old." A laugh sounded from the window above. She started and looked up, then dropped her head again and turned slowly away. Chata gazed after her awestruck, though she knew not why. Her manner was so different from that of the proud and haughty dame she had pictured. Don Rafael looked from Dona Isabel to his mother. Both these women, it seemed to him, had grown wonderfully aged since they had met, but a month or so before. There was a subtile If 1 I 'F- ' m y ■ ! 1 1 i i f i i ; 248 CHATA AND CI/INITA, (-. ¥:■ n i't)-; !!■ i antagonism between them — these two who loved each other, as only such deep intense natures can — which tore and harried them far more than actual hate could have done. "What hast thou, my life?" Dofia Feliz whispered to Chata. *' Art thou not happy? Have strange tales been told thee ? " and she looked keenly at her daughter-in-law, who had smiled and courtesied in vain as Doiia Isabel went by. "My mother," said Dona Rita in her softest voice, "the child is weary ; s^" must rest. Heed not this silly child, Don Fernando. Thank Heaven, Rosario is not so fanciful ! " But Don Fernando was not thinking of Rosario, or of Chata either for that mal t«r, but of how he had slunk away from his chief to pros«!Cute a love-affair that he had believed no power could male less than a matter of life or death to him ; and how in a moment it had become lighter than air. The boyish perversity with which he had deter- mined, even at the risk of offending his patron, to continue his courtship of Rosario Sanchez, trusting to fate or her father's generosity to make marriage with her possible, faded from his mind like a dream, and with it her image ; and in its place rose the arch mocking face of the "little saint of the Wall." Proved she angel or demon, he felt that she was henceforth the genius of his destiny. He was a vain and profligate adventurer; but all the same the arrow had found his heart; not as a thousand times before to inflict a passing scratch, but to bury itself in its inmost core. All had taken place in a few short moments. While the horses were being unharnessed and led away ; while the villagers were still crowding around the carriage, and Dona Rita's baskets and packages were being lifted out ; while a few words of greeting were exchanged, — emotions and passions had sprung into being that were to make the secm'ngly prosjiic household a very vortex of conflicting elements. The young American, who thought himself but a looker- on, was also not unmoved. Like Dona Isabel, he said within himself, " That young girl has a strange face and strange ways for the daughter of a Mexican. And yet what km atmosph haps out Fates gr speaking pened h( of. Bui escape t comes th dashing i with sadl l*epo a] by to the from loui inferior si " Insoh revival of swarthy y nor cared with the S the time < he, Fernar fit to serv< wonderful if he, Ruiz, fire and ex tied to a re trammels, control, frc CIIATA AND CmNllA. 249 ookcr- le said ce and nd yet what know I of Mexicans or their ways ? This is a strange atmosphere, and fills ray brain with strange fancies. Per- haps out of them all I shall evolve some reality. May the Fates grant me again such a chance as I had to-day of speaking to the wild gypsy Chinita! Nothing has hap- pened here, I can well believe, that she cannot tell mo of. But after the escapade of to-day, she will hardly escape the vigilance of her duenna again. Ah, hero comes the young soldier — too travel-stained to be as dashing as is his custom, no doubt. He looks a gay bird with sadly bedraggled feathers." Pepo apparently approved of him as little, as he passed by to the room assigned him. The peasant did not cease from lounging against the wall or bare his head as an inferior should. *' Insolent barbarian ! " muttered Don Fernando, in a revival of his usual contempt for the peasantry, as the swarthy young fellow scowled at him, he neither guessed nor cared why. What could such a vagabond have to do with the Senora Garcia's protegee? He would serve when the time came, to make one, in the independent troop he, Fernando, would raise : such worms as he were only fit to serve men. There were wild rumors afloat of the wonderful fortune of that phoenix Benito Juarez. What if he, Ruiz, should join his standard ? There was a strange fire and exultation in the young man's veins. He had been tied to a resistless fate long enough, — he would break his trammels, and by one daring act free himself forever from control, from tutelage, from Bamirez. ir. XXVIII. i'*:l 'i »U r is iM ; ':' i vkiui ,,^:,. j. *' Senor Don Rafael 1 " cried a hoarse voice at break of day. *' Rise, your grace ! for strange tilings have hap- pened while we have slept! Ay, Seiior, if the demon himself has not carried away Pedro the gatekeeper, who can tell us how he has gone ? " "Gone I" echoed the voice of Don Rafael from within. " Gone, Seiior, and left not even so much as his shadow ; yet the doors are locked, and not even in the postern is there so much as a crack, nor the key in the lock. The muleteers, who were to be upon the road at cock-crow, have waited until both they and their beasts are cramped with standing, and all to no purpose." "Is this true?" exclaimed Don Rafael, presently ap- pearing with a serape thrown over his shoulders, and shivering in the morning air. "Ay, man, thou hast a tongue like a woman's. And Pedro, thou saycst, is gone ? " The man drew one hand sharply across the other, as who should say, " vanished ! " though his lips ejaculated, " Gone, Seiior ; and who is to open the door now that it is shut? And who could shut the door upon Pedro but Satan himself ? " "Who, indeed?" said Don Rafael, gravely. "Think you so bulky a fellow could creep through the keyhole of the postern and take the key with him? By good fortune, he brought mo the key of the great door as usual, and hiere it is. If the Devil hath carried away one gatekeeper on his shoulders, it is but fair he should send me another ; and thou, Felipe, shall be the man." Felipe stared a moment ; then with a transient change of expression which might be of intelligence, or simply a vague smile at his own good fortune, extended his hand for the keys ; and suddenly mute with the weight of his CHATA AND CIUNITA. 251 unexpected promotion trudp;ed down the stone stairs, across the silent inner court and the outer one, wiiero ])y this time the household servants were exchanging ex- clamations of wonder and alarm with the impatient mule- teers. Felipe unlocked the wide doors, threw them open with a clang, sank into Pedro's place upon the stone bench, and thereafter reigned in his stead. The wonder of Pedro's disappearance grew greater and ever greater, until the boy Pepu said sulkily he had been l)laycd a shabby trick. Had not he said to Pedro the night before, when the Sefior Don Rafael had told them that the General Vicente Gonzales was in El Toro, that for a word he himself would go to him there ; and doubtless Pedro had stolen away alone, like the surly fox that he was. But the saints be praised, the road was open to one man as well as tinother. " Hush 1 " said one in a warning tone ; " though Pedro may have a fancy for a clefb head or broken bones, must we all cry for the same ? Go to thou Pepu I thou art scarce old enough to leave the shade of thy mother's reboso. Did I not sec thee sucking thy thumb but last Saint John's day?" There was a roar of laughter, and though Pepc raged, no one heeded his wrath ; the talk was all of Pedro. That he had gone to be a soldier was universall}' believed ; that Don Rafael, and not the Devil, had aided his going was not for a moment thought of. The women crossed them- selves, and the men spat on the floor emphatically, — yet there had been more mysteries than that in the life of Pedro. Florencia, who was distraught at her uncle's disappear- ance, and tore her hair and bewailed herself as a bereaved niece should, found her way to Chinita to pour out her griefs and fears ; although since the change in the young girl's p dtion they had by common consent ignored their former .elations, — Florencia, because of the wide social gulf fixed between the great house and the hovels around it ; Chinita, from pure indifference. She was too full of her new life to think of the old, or of the persons connected with it. It was so early that she was still not fully dressed, and the chocolate wherewith to break her fast stood untouched M' 252 CHATA AND CHI NIT A. I* i? I' ii ^ '!*• ': H. ';■ i' upon the table, when the sornd of some one sobbing at the door brought a tone of sorrow into thoughts which had simply been vexed before. Chinita had risen in an ill humor. Dona Rita and Rosa- rio, and even Chata herself, had failed to show any surprise at her position. True, Don Rafael had warned them of it ; but at least something more than a kindly indifference might have greeted her, — if only a glance of envy from Rosario. What wonderful things had they all seen, that they had no thoughts to spare for her? Bah! Rosario had neither eyes nor thoughts for any one but the young oflicer with the red neck-tie. Well, they should seel But what of Dona Rita, — and Chata too? Why, Chinita hardly knew her. Wat} she also thinking but of her- self, like the others? That was a change in Chata, and one that ill-suited her. Chinita had slept badly for thinking of these things; and truth to tell, when her mind was ill at ease the soft- ness of the bed troubled her. She had dreamed of snakes, of three snakes who had lifted their heads out of water to hiss at her. Here was the first one. Certainly she had not dreamed of snakes for nothing. Well, to be sure, here was Florencia, whom she had come with some trouble ! She felt almost little a forgotten, flutter of gratification, and unconsciously assumed the air of a patrona, as she said, — "Ah, is it then Florencia? And what ails thee; and how can I help thee? "What, has Tomasito broken the newest water-jar, or by better fortune his neck? Or has Terecita choked herself with a dry bean ? " " God has not desired to do me such favors," returned Florencia, piously and with a flood of tears. " No, rather than my children should become little angels, he prefers that they shall be friendless upon the earth. Ay de mi! what is a father, what is a husband (and you know the very driveller of a man I have), what is any one to an uncle who was a gatekeeper of Tres Herraanos ? — a veritable treasure of silver, a spring of refreshing ! Was there ever a time Florencia asked a shilling of Pedro in vain?" At another time Chinita would have laughed at this pious exaggeration ; now it filled her with inexpressible alarm. CHATA AND CIIINITA. 253 *' What! i8 my god-fathor dead?" she cried, wringing her liands and for the moment relapsing into the demon- strative gestures and cries of her plebeian training. ''''Ay JJios^ Florencia, it cannot be ! Answer me, stupid one ! Is tliy mouth as full as thy eyes that thou canst not answer?" *' Is chocolate served to the poor at day-break?" cried Florencia in an injured tone, and with a glance at the dainty breakfast; and then at an impatient word from Chinita she explained how Pedro had departed in the niglit, though the hacienda doors were locked upon the inside, and conjectured that if he had not been spirited away by the Devil, he had gone to join the Liberal Gen- eral Gonzales, — there could be no other alternative. She had heard Seiior Don Rafael talking to him till late in the night of how Gonzales had beaten the Gen- eral Ramirez at El Toro, and was still there trying to strengthen his forces, while those of the Clergy had dis- appeared, no one knew where, but surely to gather men and means to recover the lost position. Chinita's eyes flashed. She knew nothing of politics, but she thrilled at the name of Ramirez. She laughed scornfully that Pedro should throw his puny strength into the force against him. Still she said, " God keep him ; " and jested away Florencia's fears. "Bah! What should happen to my god-father?" she said. "And thou knowest thou wilt want for nothing. Hark thou ! there is nothing to cry for that thy uncle is gone. Has he not often told us of the dollars he made in the wars ? " " I fear me he is likely rather to receive hard blows than hard dollars now," answered Florencia, disconso- lately, — an expression of expectancy, however, relieving her doleful countenance, as she added, " Ah, Chinita of my soul, thou wert ever the kerchief to wipe away my tears." Chinita laughed. " Thou used to say I was a prickly pear to draw tears, rather than a kcrchiet' to dry them," she presently said, pushing her chocolate toward P^lo- rencia, and thrusting into her hand the little twists of bread. "There, take th;;m ; I would u thousand times rather i; i* W 1 , j - i 1 ii fill \J'' 1 plj 1 §\'- w'- ! H ■ ! 254 CHATA AND CHINITA. have a thick cake aud a drink of white gruel. One is not always in the humor for sweets ; " and she tugged viciously at the hair she tried vainly to smooth, — she was alwa^'s at feud with it because it was not longer. But at last she confined it in two short tresses, tying each with a red ribbon ; and then suddenly dropping on her knees before Florencia, placed her hands palm downward upon the lloor, and looking up in the woman's face with a laugh exclaimed, as a tinge of red deepened the olive of her complexion, "And what of the American, Florencia? Is he like him thou sayest the Senorita Herlinda loved ? " "Ave Maria Purissima!" cried the startled woman. "The saints forbid that I should say such a thing of a Garcia, and she dedicated to the Madonna ! " But recov- ering herself, "Certainly this American is like tlie other. Is not one cactus like another that grows on the same mountain? Should a white-tlooded American be like a cavalier of blue-blood, or like an Indian of the villages? Yet both, one and the ether, are we not Mexicans ? " and she uttered the words as one might say, " Are we not gods?" " That is very true," commented Chiuita, gravely ; " and j'Ct they are not frights, these Americans. Why should not the Senorita Herlinda have loved one if it pleased her? Listen, Florencia ; I will tell thee a dream I had one night. When one's bed is too soft, one dreams dreams." Florencia looked at the girl with an admiring glance. How amiable she could be, this Chinita, when she chose. '* Little puss ! little puss ! " she murmured, giving her the pet name Pedro had used, when in her kittenish moods one had never known whether she would scratch or fondle one with soft purrings, begun and ended in a moment. " Little puss ! thou wert ever good to thy Florcricia." " Thou art a flatterer ! " ejaculated Chinita, half-inclined to withhold her confidence, yet longing for a listener. "Ay, Florencia, thou knowest not what it is to sit for hours in the gloom within four walls. Ah, what thoughts come into one's head ! When I ran about the village, the wind blew the thoughts about as it did my hair ; but now my brains are like cobwebs, aud when a thought touches them III 'u't'^' I ■ ;,' glance. m she mured, in her would ended to tUy CHATA AND CHINITA. 255 it clings like dust, and so they grow thicker and heavier until my very skull aches ; " and she pressed her head with her hands, and heaved a deep sigh. "But to think is not to dream," said Florencia, in some disappointment, for she had a child's love for the marvellous, and did not understand Chinita's abstrac- tions, — unstudied and simple though they were. " But dreams come from thoughts," answered Chinita ; " and what should I think of here but of mysteries, — such as why the Seiiora should keep me with her, though she loves me not ; why she walks the floor and counts her beads, and when she forgets I am in the room murmurs over and over the name of Herlinda ; why she looks before her sometimes, as you used to tell me tiie woman looked who saw the ghost of the American, — and that is always when she chances to meet this Don 'Guardo whom she will not speak of, or suffer Doiia Feliz to invite to our table, though he stays here so long. And after I have asked so many things, I set myself to the answer. Oh, you would wonder at what I say to myself of all these things, — and then sometimes come dreams to tell me I am right." Florencia looked at the door vaguely, — she was thinking perhaps she had better go. " Yes, yes," continued Chinita, as if to herself, " I am growing perhaps like the owl, — I, who in the broad sun- light saw nothing, have discovered many things here in the dark. Well, well, Florencia, one thought came to me on a vexed night when I could not sleep. I had been talking io Doiia Feliz that day. I know not why, but I am with Doiia Feliz like the 3'oung fox my god-father tamed, — when I touched him with my hand he was pleased, j'et he bristled and longed to bite. Good I we had talked that day. Yes, — it was of the nuns, and she said the Seiiora might desire I should be one ; and I was angry, and said I would not be shut up to pray as the Seilorita Herlinda had been ; and then Doiia Feliz bade me be silent and ponder what she had said. And after she went away it was not of myself I thought, but of the Scfiorita Herlinda ; and in the midst of my thoughts I saw the American pass the court, and Dofia Isabel, who was near, turned herself away, as if an adder had darted upon her." Florencia looked up with u mute inquiry or fascination in I 25G CHATA AND CHtNITA. wM \ f.Mi H\ I her gaze. Chinita, in a sort of monotone, followed the thread of her thoughts. " When I went to sleep at last, I dreamed that I, though still Chinita, was Herlinda, and that the American who was lying wounded in the room below came up the stairs, and tapped lightly at my window. I b topped softly and looked out at him through the grating. Ah, it was this Don 'Guardo, yet so different, as a man is different from his reflection in a glass : and I did not wonder to see him there. I put my hand out and touched him, and was happy. And as I stood at the bars, — I myself, and yet the nina Herlinda. — the man of my dream said, as a hus- band says to his wife, ' Open, my life ; ' and when I opened the door he led in by the hand a little child, — I knew it to be his child, though it had not blue eyes nor the yellow hair. Well, I stood there, and stood there, find strove tc speak and could not ; and the vision of the man and of the child faded, and the thought that I was still Herlinda faded too, and the dream was ended." She ceased speaking, and looked at Florencia with a vague yet searching gaze. " By my faith, a strange dream ! " murmured Florencia, disquieted. " You should have lighted a blessed candle when you woke, and passed it before you three times, say- ing an Ave each time. Santa Inez ! I would rather ace the ghost of the American than dream such a dream i " *' Co'.vard ! it frightened me not," continued the girl. " And I did not seem to wake, though I knew that I, Chinit?', lay in the bed, and that my head sank deep in the soft pillow, and that I could not or would not raise it ; and the meaning of the dream crept into my mind, as the light creeps into a dark room. Yes, I felt as I used to when I saw the little green blades shoot up in the spring, and I could think how the corn would grow, and the leaves would wave, and tbe maize would lie in the silk and the y\i iifn# linda too, and there will be no Pedro to chide thee. And sec, — " as the woman began some faint objection, — "I have all the pretty things Pedro gave me, and money too ; yes, more than thou wouldst think. And thou shall never miss thy uncle , thou shalt have them all, if thou wilt but talk to the old women of things that happened here before the time of the great sickness. But, Florencia, thou must tell them nothing. Oh, if I could only run again in and out of the village huts as I used to do ! " Florencia looked at the excited girl with a nod of intelli- gence. "Have no fear," she said; "it is not possible that Florencia knows not how to manage her own tongue, though no one knows better than thyself it was ever a quiet one. But it shall wag now, and not like the dog's tail, in mere idleness." Chinita laughed, then glancing around her warily, drew from her bosom a small gold coin. She had evidently prepared herself for a chance meeting with Florencia. " Take it," she said, " and go. Thou hast been here too long already ; and," she added with the Hush of red again tingeing her face, " talk and gossip when the American is near. He must be sad, — it will cheer him to hear the voices, even if he understands but little ; and if by chance he speaks to thee, why ! thou shalt tell me what he says." Florencia had experienced one great surprise that morning, and here was another ; the first had awed, the second delighted her. Like all her race she had the instincts of secrecy and Intrigue, and suddenly the op- portunity to practise both were offered her. She looked at Chinita with a glance of infinite cunning in her soft dark eyes ; but the young girl would not meet her gaze. " Go, go ! " she said impatiently ; " you have been here too long. The Senora is coming — or is it Doiia Feliz? Go! go, I say!" It was neither Dona Isabel nor Feliz, but only Chata, who entered with a preoccupied air, scarcely noticing the woman who passed her on the threshold. She did not speak, however, until Florencia had reluctantly passed out of hearing; and then she cried eagerly, "Chinita! Chinita ! who is the stranger who stood with thee at the thought I saw the ghost of doorway ? God bless us ! I C//ATA AND CIIINITA. 259 the American we used to talk of; and but now I met him below in the court. Who is he? What is he here for?" " That remains to be seen," answered Chinita, with an uneasy laugh. Her hasty confidence in Florencia troubled her, and closed her lips toward the friend for whom she had hitherto longed. " At least the stranger is no ghost ; yet how can we know that the man who was murdered here so many years before was anything to him ? " "But I do know," insisted Chata. "I had gone to the arbor, thinking thou mightest be there, to break my fast. I was standing in the centre, with my eyes turned toward this room, thinking I should see thee leave it, and thinking too of the nina Herlinda, — O Chinita ! she is still so beautiful, — when I heard a step behind me. It was a strange step, and 1 turned quickly and saw the American looking at me as if he too believed he saw a ghost. Was it not strange, Chinita ? We looked at each other quite steadily for many moments, then he said, — " ' Pardon me, you arc then the daughter of the admin- istrador ? You came here yesterday ? ' " I could scarcely make out his words, yet I understood what he said, and I seemed to know that he had taken me for another, — perhaps for thee, Chinita; and then again he said, ' Pardon me ! Pardon me ! ' and we still con- tinued to look at each other ; and I did not think how bold I must appear until the other stranger, the young officer who loves Rosario, stepped out of the room they have given him. I heard his spurs clank on the pavement, and then I fled away to thee. But for the fright, I should not have dared to come hither, Chinita. AH yesterday my grandmother kept me from thee. She said now thou art the child of Dona Isabel, and that without leave I must not go to thee." " Chata, thou hast a poor spirit! " exclaimed Chinita, with some severity, — though she remembered witli im- patient anger that Doiia Isabel had kept her in the gar- den at her side, on pretence of showing her the strings of irregular pearls, which she Should some day arrange in even strands. Dofia Isabel had made no promise, but Chinita could almost see them in the future be- decking her own neck and arms. She had been beguiled, 1! I m m I' '3 i- I i. 2G0 CHATA AND CniNITA. i-^«- ^ i .1 IP),i!^'' J « IT'-' !/. •' VV, ( even as Chnta had been commanded, to keep apart from her old playmate. "There is a m3'stery in it all!" she exclaimed. "Though I am here with Dona Isabel, I know not who I am. It is intoipiablo! Sometimes I fear I am but her plaything, ^vith no mere right to her notice than had the fawn I foi ' s* -^u ^''0 river bank and petted, till it died from very lieartL .ik b 'lause it longed so for the mountains and its kina. And -/ I long, Chata. Ah, thou knowest not what it is to be a nameless wretch, to be tossed from hand to hand, and have no share in the game but the dizzy whirling through the air. Pshaw ! I would rather be dashed to pieces against the first wall than go through life with nothing but favor to rely on. I want a name , a place, a right. I will have them : even you, who arc the daughter of the administrador, have those ; and I — Well, I will not be simply Chinita^ whom Dona Isabel makes a lady to-day, who was a child of the Madonna yesterday, and may be a beggar to-morrow." Chata had been leaning on the arm and pressing her head against the shoulder of Chinita. She raised it now with a sharp low cry, and turned away. Little guessed the impetuous, ambitious foundUng how her words tortured and taunted the other, who longed to crj' out, "I too am no one ! I too am a stray, a waif, and if I know my father, know him only as a terror, — a horror. " Her promise to Dona Rita silenced her. She felt there was but one person in the world to whom she would break her promise, — the pale, sweet-faced nun of the convent of El Toro. In her passionate, bitter mood Chinita chilled and silenced her. She did not even tell her that as she has- tened from the arbor the American had caught the end of her flying reboso, as if by an irresistible impulse, and cried: " I am Ashley Ward ! Ashley! Ashley! remember the name ! " Remember it ! it seemed to Chata as if she had always known the man as well as the name, which had ever before been to her the symbol of the dead rather than of the liv- ing. That she should hAve seen the Senorita Herlinda, whom she had alwa^^s known to be alive, seemed more wonderful, more incredible to her mind, than that the young man should have risen before her to claiia the lleavei for fea all the there a one wh "Chi you are should as Ros be a wc loves break." Chata threw he It rang in the clasped " Wh£ should m CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 261 ■e wa8 akher of El id and lie lias- end of , and icmber ilv?ays , before the liv- Irlinda, more lat the ■iin the narao of the murdered foreigner. Now that he had come, she seemed all her life to have been expecting him. She did not see him again for days, but all tliat time the expression of his eyes haunted her. Slie could not fathom it. She did not guess it had been but a rellection of the surprise, yet conviction, in her own. Chata did not again transgress the conmuiuds of Dona Feliz ; nor did she remain long enough with Chiuita in her llrst visit to be tempted into further conddence. ln(" jd, they parted with something like a quarrel, as they liii been used to do in their childhood's days, llosario's 'uuuij had been mentioned, and Cliinita had with some &coru commented both on iier sentimental air and the iudilfer- ence of her lover. "Did he love her at El Toro?" she asked -ith the laugh that was so mocking. " He stood for an h .r, you say, at the corner of the street waiting for a glance from her ; he wrote verses bj'^ da\' and sang them by night be- neath her window? Well, he stood from noon till night yesterday with his eyes ttu'ned upward, — one would have tliought he had never gazed at anything lower than the sky ; yet it was only for a gUmpse of my face, and a single glance from my eyes dazzled and blinded him. Thank Heaven, he dare not tune a guitar beneath my windows for fear of Dona Isabel, or I should be tormented with all the old rhymes changed from Rosario to Chinita. Ah, there are likings and likings, and this pretty soldier is one who would try them all ! " "Chinita," cried Cliata in indignation, " you are false, you are cruel I Rosario has done nothing to you that you should torment her. I understand nothing of such things as Rosario does ; though I am her age, she seems to be a woman while I am still a child. But she says she loves Fernando, and for love a woman's heart may break." Chata was thinking of the pale, sad nun ; but Chinita threw herself into a chair and broke into a peal of laughter. It rang through the silent house, and startled Dofia Isabel in the further chamber. She started nervously and clasped her hands over her ears. " What a strange child it is." she uuirmured, " Ah, I should have loved her if — " She glanced at a note she \\ M,! ! 202 C/fATA AND CHINITA, had ju8t written. It was addressed to Vicente Gonzalca, and promised liim a tlic land mounted soldiers. Dona Isabel made no idle promises, and she had counted well the cost when she had thus irrevocably committed her- self to the cause of the Liberals. She liad watched for years the course of events, and none saw more clearly than she that the time for passiveness had gone. On every hand there must necessarily be sacrifice. " That which goes not in sighs, must in tears," she said senten- tiously. "I Uke not the Indian Juarez, yet his policy promises deliverance from the vampire that for genera- tions has grown strong and ever stronger, as it has drained the very life of the nation." The knowledge that Gonzales was in El Toro enjoying the prestige of an accidental victory, but with a force entirely insulHcient to meet that which Ramirez might at any day bring against him, had been the immediate cause of her action. To reward Pedro with a service which should at once remove him from her sight and fill his mind with new and absorbing interests, were the reasons why he had been chosen to ride from rancho to ranclio secretly inciting the men to join the standard, which was to be raised upon the morrow. " Ah, this Ruiz is a poor tool ! " muttered Dona Isabel, *' yet for that reason may be the more readily bought. He loves the daughter of my administrador, and will do much to gain my good word. Rafael says he is a brave soldier, if a false one ; and there will be those with him who will guard against treachery. He shall fulfil his empty offer to lead a thousand men to Gonzales, and claim of Rafael the reward he sighs for. Ah, there is the child's laugh again, — I could almost fancy it in mockery of me ! Ah, this of patriot is a new role for me, and tries my nerves. Well, Chinita shall laugh while she can : if it is for long, it will prove her none of the l)lood of Garcia. Was there evor a happj- woman among them?" While Dona Isabel pondered thus, Chnta in deep indig- nation had turned from her whilom friend. She had been brouglit up among a people who in matters of love held man excused and woman guilty in all cases of inconstancy. " Farewell ! " she exclaimed, '' I will come no more to vou it in jle for while J of the lainong intlig- Id been ire held itancy. I to vou CIIATA AND ClilNITA. 2G3 who arc so cruel. Dofin Isabel was right to part us ; she has changed your heart as she has your fortune. Ah ! " she added bitterly, " all the world is changed to me, and wliy not you ? " The grieved and imbittercd girl went out so quickly that Chinita's answer did not reach her. As she i)assed through the corridor Chata glanced down. The young officer stood there, as Chinita had described. Ho wouhl catch the first glimpse of her as she left her room. Chata flushed in anger, yet tears of pity rose to her eyes. She was still a child, yet her heart foretold what might br ^he agony of woman's slighted love. P>cn so soon Chinita was laughing no longer ; she had crouched forward and sat with her face bent almost to her knees. " What have I done?" she asked herself. " It is early morning still, and I have told a secret to a fool, and ofiended her I should have trusted ! " She had eaten nothing ; the excitement under which she had acted suddenly expired, and she burst into sobs and tears. Doiia Feliz coming in a few minutes later, found her on her knees before the little image of her patron saint, passionately vowing the gift of a silver Christo in return for the boon she craved. ''Go to the corridor, my child," said Feliz pityingly'. The girl was a problem to her, which every day seemed more dilficult of solution. " You look weary and ill ; but console yourself, — Pedro is safe. You will see the good foster-father again, be assured." Chinita looked at her in astonishment. She had for the time forgotten Pedro's very existence. Dona Feliz dis- cerned at once that she had credited the girl with a sensi- bility to which she was a stranger. Five minutes later she was quite certain of it, as Chinita sat on the corri- dor, apparently equally unconscious of the impassioned glances of Ruiz, or those of the invisible but infuriate Rosario, drawing the threads of some dainty linen and singing,— Sale la Linda, Sale la fea, Sale el enano, Con su galea. I i ! 5 ^ !f 4. li !: ^i-^ 264 CJ/ATA AND CIIINITA. " Tho boautv conius out, The ugly oiiu too; Tliun cuuiuH tho dwarf, With a gay halloo." As unstudied and inconsequent as the meaningless words of tho song seemed the actions of tho singer, but Feliz shook her head, and met Dona Isabel with a face tliut was even more serious than its wont. The problem became to her mind each day more complicated. Would the result be bitterness, and that grief most dreaded by the proud heart of Du&u Isabel Gaicia, — the grief and bitterness of shamo? iji-v: XXIX. Florencia fulfilled her raUsion well, — rccallinp; skilfully to the minds of the elder gossips the events and doubts of years ugone, tmd those suspieions, light as air, whieh had once before menaced the fair name and fame of her wlio later had been revered as a saint under the name of Sister Veronica. It was natural atlcr the excitement of Pedro's disap- pearance had subsided that reminiscences of events in whieh he had figured should, in default of some new in- terest, rise to the stagnant surface of hacienda life, and be re-colored and adorned with suggestions probable or im- probable, and that the favorite topic should be torn to Bhrcds in its dissection, wiiile the motive power of its a^)- pearancc should in the excitement of discussion be utterly lost sight of. Florencia herself, in the interest of tracing the sequence of events, and in hearing attributed to the characters that had figured in her girlhood traits and deeds of which she had heard little or nothing at that bygone time, almost forgot that she was talking with a purpose, and therefore perhaps had a truly unprejudiced account to give to Chinita, — when she could again see her, for Dona Isabel had become a wary duenna, and the girl had had no opportunity of learning anything that might have throv n light upon the theory she had formed of her birth and i)fj rentage. In his insullicicnt knowledge of the language, Ashley Ward let much of the gossip of the women wlio chatted about him as thej' performed their dally tasks pass en- tirely' nnhecded, while he pondered upon the very subjects which with more or less directness were discussed. But one morning he caught the name of Hcrlinda, and thence- forth all his senses were alert. Great was his surprise when he discovered this to be the name of a daughter of Dona Isabel who had been a beautiful girl when the HI 266 CHATA AND CHINTTA. S-ii m riuf w^- American was killed, and thenceforward his mind became preternaturally keen ; so that he divined the meanings of words he had never heard before, — gestures, glances, the very inflection of a tone, became revelations to him. Hitherto, without cogitating upon the matter, Ward had naturally assumed from hearing no reference to another that the newly married Carmen was the only child of Dona Isabel. Now he learned the tragical fate of Norberto anu the existence of the elder and more beautiful daughter lierlinda, the cloistered nun ; and she was for the time the theme of endless reminiscences and conjectures. Her winsome childhood ; her early gayety and incomparable beauty ; the open love of Gonzales ; the suspected mutual attachment of the young American and the daring child, who with her mother's pride had failed to inherit her mother's strength of will ; the murder of John Ashlej'' ; the time of the great sickness ; the death of Mademoiselle La Croix ; the effect of the shock and horror upon the mind and appearance of Herlinda ; the scarcely whispered, faint, yet not wholly disproved suspicions which had floated over the name and fame of the daughter of a house too absolute in its ascendency and power to be lightlj' at- tacked ; her removal from the hacienda ; her strange re- jection of the suit of one who had always been dear to her, and to whom her mother, in accordance with good and seemly usage, had pledged her ; her renunciation of the world she had loved, and entrance to a convent, which she bad held in horror, — all these circumstances were dis- cussed from a dozen points of view. And all he heard confirmed in Ashley's mind the belief that the woman whom his cousin had loved was traced ; that whether she had been actuall}'^ a wife or no, she, Herlinda Garcia, the daughter of a woman whom it would be a mortal offence to approach upon such a subject, was the possible mother of a child which he could scarcely refuse to believe existed, — though here a new perplexity con- fronted him as (like tlie young otficor, whom he regarded with a half-contcniptuous amusement tiiat shouUi have prevented him from following any example set by so love-lorn a cavalier) he began to seek occasion for ob- serving Chinita with an intensity that made her doubly the object of J'c jealous and ireful dislike of liosario and her ^s belief (1 ; that crlinda be a as the refuse y con- '(jjarded i have by so for ob- bly the lud bcr CfTATA AND CHINITA. 2G7 mother. To his alert and dispassionate mind circumstan- ces pointed to this girl as the possible link between the families of Ashley and Garcia, though the most minute and patient observation only seemed to make absurd tlic supposition that American blood mingled in the Ii(!iy tide which filled her veins, colored her rich beauty, and vivified the scornful and stoical yet ambitious spirit, which as by a spell at the same moment repelled yet charmed both himself and the haugiity Doiia Isabel. What was the secret of the foundling's infiuence ? He cared not to analyze either his own mind or the irresistible fas- cination of Chinita ; but that the girl, though not posi- tively beautiful, and unmistakably repellent in her caustic yet stoical discontent and ambitious unrest, possessed a bewitching and bewildering grace far different from any he had ever beheld in woman, of whatever race or kin- dred, impressed him daily more and more deeply, while — But stubborn facts made speculation and efforts at inquiry alike futile. As days passed on, a certain friendship sprang up be- tween Ward and Don Rafael. They talked for hours over the political situation, — Ashley straining ear and mind co comprehend the administrador's smooth and im- pressive utterances, and Don Rafael with grave politeness listening without a smile or gesture of amusement to the hesitating and often utterly incomprehensible attempts of the young American to deliver his opinions, or to make minute inquiry into reasons and events which often horrified as well as puzzled him. Don Rafael had the air of sim- plicity and candor which is so infinitely attractive to the stranger, and which presented so great a contrast to the lofty coldness of Doiia Isabel and the grave and nielan- cholv reticence of Feliz. Their demeanor left the bafiUno; and depressing conviction that there was an infinit}' that tlu'y might reveal were but the right chord touched ; while that of Don Rafael was satisfying in its cordiality, even while no response fulfilled the expectation that his fluent and kindly frankness a})i)oarod fo onconr.'igo. As soon as the state of his wound permitted, Ashley joined the admlnistrador in his early morning rides to the fields and pastures, and learned nuich of the workings of a great hacienda. These rides were conlined to the iin- ! 1^ I I 1 'l!!'^ 268 CIIATA AND CHINITA. W- ^ mr ^ 1 N' ^r mediate neighborhood of the great house, and four or six armed men were invariably in attendance, — for, as Don Rafael explained with a smile, the administrador of the rich hacienda of Tres Hermanos was invested with the dig- nity of its possessors, his personal insignificance being absorbed in the state of those he represented ; so that his person bore a fictitious value, and if seized by an enemy, either personal or political, would doubtless be held at a prince's ransom, which the honor as well as the interest of his employers would force them to pay. In the course of these rides they not infrequently ap- l)roaclied the deserted reduction- works, and it was upon the first occasion that this happened that Don Rafael questioned the young American as to his relationship to the last director; and upon ^earning it, rehearsed with deep feeling the story of his murder, pointing out the very tree under which the bloody tragedy was enacted. Ashley watched his countenance narrowly as he tallied. His words, whose meaning might have been obscure to tlie foreigner, were rendered dramatic by the deep pathos of his tone and the expressive force of his gestures ; even the men who rode behind drew near as his voice rose on the stillness of the air in a tale so foreign to the peace and beauty of the scene. As they sidrted the low adobe wall and looked over upon the stagnant masses of mineral cla}', the piles of broken ores, the adobe sheds and stables crumbling under rain and sun, Ashley was read}' to credit the whispered words with which Don Rafael ended his narration ; '* Seiior, it is said in the silent night, when the moon is at its full, phantoms of its old life revivify this deserted spot, and that its massive gates open at the call of a ghostly rider, who wears the form of that poor jouth who after his last midnight ride came back feet foremost, recumbent, silent, from the trj'st he had sallied forth to keep." "And did 3'ou know the woman?" gasped rather than demanded Ashley Ward. " Did /know the woman?" ai ^.ort Don Rafael. " / know the woman ? I was a stranger, and, truth to tell, no friend of Americans ; a faithful husband withal, and was it likely, though he had them, this stranger would have shared secrets of a doubti'ul nature with me? When !i n CHATA AND CIl/N/TA. 2G9 than id was have When I said a ' tryst ' I used it for want of a bettor word. What attraction should a man so refined, so engrossed in his afl'airs as this busj- foreigner, find in the humble and rustic beauties of the village? For my part, I find it impossible to imagine sucli coarseness in a man so little likely to be governed by a base passion as Ashley appeared. You know your own people better than I can ; what say you ? " " I say the same ! " answered Ward, eagerly, with a keen glance at the sensitive dark face of the administra- dor. " Yet I know that my cousin loved ; that he claimed to be married ; that the lady — " He paused, — some of the men were within hearing, listening like Don Rafael himself with rapt faces. That of Don Rafael lighted for a moment with an incredulous smile. " Ah, then there was a woman ? " he said. " That might be ; but a marriage ? Ah, Seiior, if there had been thai;, all the world would have known it. You know but little of our laws if j'ou suppose such a contract could be hero secretly and legally made. If he claimed such to bo the case, he was vilely deceived, or himself was — " He stopped at the word, as if fearing to oflTend. To urge the matter further seemed to Ashley worse than useless. He had learned enough of marriage laws in Mexico to feci that to mention the name of Herlinda Ga) cia in connecLion with that of Ashley was to cast upon it a slur such as ^ould but bring upon him the resentment, and perhaps tiiv:; revenge, of the family to which he was probably indebted for his very life, and certainly for a hospitalit}' that merited respect for its liberaUty if not gratitude for its warmth. ** I shall never learn the truth," he thought -, *' and why indeed should I seek it? My aunt was wise in her gen- eration. Though ignorant of the possibilities or impos- sibilities of Mexican society and character, she wisclj' refrained from problems which its keenness and honor ignored or left unsolved. I will go back again in content to my houses and lands, to my siK^er and gold. I am despoiling no legitimate heir ; and to imagine the exist- ence of any other is an offence either to my cousin's in telligence or honor, as well as to the chastity of a woman whom even in thought I must be a villain to asperse. Let but a momentar}' quiet come tliat I may be able to i If I M W sn V ^te**-^ {■■. \m . p P; ' '^ I! 4 1! 1 '4'»>„j 270 CI/ATA AND CHINI-^A. obtain the requisite funds, and I will abandon this sense- less quest, and leave my murdered cousin to rest in peace in his forgotten grave, in this laud of violence and mysteries." This was the resolve of one hour, — to be broken in the next, as the sight of a girl's face or the sound of her voice, like a disturbing conscience, assured him that in absence the doubt, or rather the tantalizing certainty, would each day torment him more and more, and so make enjoyment of his wealth even more impossible than it had been when Mary's sensitive imaginings had urged him upon his Quixotic errand. Trivial and even ridiculous things often divert minds most harassed and burdened, and exert an influence when great and weighty matters would benumb or tortuio., It would have been impossible for Ashley Ward, in tin- em- barrassment of his situation (for his funds in tiie Cit}- of Mexico were fintirely cut off by its investment })y the Lib- erals) and in the perplexity of his thoughts, to have entered with enjoyment upon any festivity or j)ieasure requiring exertion either of body or mind; but ho was, quite unconst'-iously to himself, in the mood idly to \ iew the little comedy which was enacted more and more freely before his eyes, — just iv.i '^ seasons of deepest grief and anxiety one may se -k n echanical employment for the eye and relief for the oram in the perusal of a tale so light that neither the strain of a nerve or a tjjought, nor the excitement of pleasure or pain, shall awaken emotion or burden memory. Fernando Ruiz was too wily a youth, too courteous, too kind, to throw off at once the semblance of devotion to a goddess who had lured him to a shrine that held a divinity whose charms, in his inconstant sight, so far surpassed her own that he could not choose but transfer his worshii), even were it but to be disdained and rejected. In the decorous visits he made to Doiia Rita and when they met :;t table, he would still sigh and cast despairing glances at the bridling Rosario, who but that she intercepted others more fervent till, directed toward the upper end of the borvd where Dona Isabel and Cliinita sat in lonely state, would havo believed quite true the tale with which her mother strove to console her, — using such feeble prevari- n .1 CHATA AND CHINITA. 271 scnse- cst in ue and in the of lier ihat in taint}', ) make it bad }d him winds e when lie. It tht/; em- City of ;hc Lib- ;o have )leasure he was, to view c freely st grief ent for a tale bought, awaken lus, too liou to a Idivinity [vpasscd worship, In the Ley met mces at others of the |y state, lieh her Iprcvari- cation as is usual in Mexican families when ill news is to be ultimately communicated, in the fond hope of softening a blow which doubt and procrastination can but cause to be the more nervously dreaded. But well was Rosario convinced that though Ruiz held daily conferences with her father, and even once or more was honored by a few- moments' speech with Doila Isabel, it was not of her or of love that they spoke ; arid with a philosophic determina- tion to replace with a more faithful lover the fickle admirer whom she could cease to love but would never forgive, the piqued, but lightly wounded damsel began to turn a shoulder upon the recreant soldier and her smiles upon the stranger. Ward was perhaps singularly free from vanity, or too much absorbed to notice the honor paid him ; but with a sense of angry surprise he became aware that Cbinita no longer ignored the existence of the persistent languislier, who at early morning paced the court in trim riding-suit of leather, a gay scrape thrown negligently over bis left shoulder, bis witle-brimmed hat poised at the angle whence he could see the door of her room open, and Cbinita rival the sun in dazzling bis enchanted eyes. At noon he stood in the self-same spot in gay uniform, from which by some miraculous process all stain and grime had disappeared ; and not inixcquently at evening be reappeared in tbc holiday dress of some clerk, who for the time had lent his jacket of black velvet trimmed with silver buttons, or his riding suit of stamped leatber and waist-scarf of scar- let silk, well pleased to fancy he was represented by tbe litbe young officer, who filled tbem with a grace that made tbcm tbencefortb of treble value in the owner's eyes. This niasqvierade might have continued indefinitely, — for Ruiz wearied no sooner of changing fine clothes than of descanting to Ashley of his sudden but undying passion lor the young Cbinita, whose fortunes he conceived, as tbe favored of Dona Isabel Garcia, would be as brilliant as her charms, — but that first, two. by one, then in twos and throes, in tens and dozens, mc. flocked into the adjacent villages .; and though reluctant, to be torn from gentler pursuits, yet proud to form and command a regiment, tbe young adventurer was set tb«' taslc of bringing order out of the wild and discordant elements, — a task for Ub i"M '■V ' . '1 J'il . il is; r- ¥:ti J) I ( '. li J i il^'. 272 CITATA AND CHINITA. which the training of his life, and his peculiar knowledge of the material with which he had to work, more fitted him than any especial talent, however brilliant, in the conduct of ordinary militar}' affairs would have done. The young officer's vanity was flattered, for in some occult way the responsibility of the spontaneous rally was thrown upon his shoulders, and he became the central figure in a movement which within a few days assumed a picturesque and imposing character. He himself assumed that the magic of his name had called from their rocky lairs these mountain banditti, these sturdy vaqueros, these apathetic but resolute rancheros who trooped in, bringing witli them rusty carbines and shotguns, and sometimes polished Henry and Sharp's rifles, which the enterprise of speculative TNracricans had introduced into the country. There was no choice of weapons, but ever^' one brought something, — a silver-mounted pistol, worthless as pre- tentious, or a strong and formidable short-sword, or glittering curved sabre, forged in some mountain or village smithy. It seemed too that by mere force of will money came in- to the captain's hands, and that clothing, horses, and pro- visions were thus l)rought forth from the stores and fields of Tres Hermanos ; that plans were laid, and adverse possibilities provided against, a way marked out and guides provided ; and that he suddenly found himself at the head of a force more fully equipped than any he had before beheld, — men eager for adventure and battle, and clamoM./US to be led to join the forces of Gonzales, who while the cause with which he sj-mpathized was meeting lloody rcN'erses around the City of Mexico in which the Clerioi IVji-ces were concentrated, was daily attracting in tlic intonor formidable additions to the numbers of the I.iberulb. ' he tales of Conservative des])otism and bar- barity, wtucii later investigations proved to have been well founded, aided much in influencing the masses to seek a oliaii;>:e of evils, even where hopeless of any lasting benefit from the new condition of alfairs which it was proposed to inaugurate. A people who had for generations found in changes of government simply fresh despotisms and encroachments were not lik(!lv to be as enthusiastic in discussion as mad ledge fitted n the some y was cntral mod a 3umcd rocky , these inging ctimes »rise of )imtry. irouglit IS pre- jrd, or tain or amc in- ,nd pro- \ fields adverse and nself at he had 0, and OS, who meeting lich the cting in of the nd bar- leen well to seek lasting it was CHATA AND CIIINITA. 273 angcs of c'hnients as mad for action, — for crushing and destroying the old, and seizing upon all available booty, not as necessary to the success of their cause, but as a despoilment of the enemy. And upon this principle it within a few days happened that Tres Hermanos presented more the appearance of a forced than a voluntary contributor to the military neces- sities of the time. Not only the common soldiers but those who were to lead tliem, — most of them men as skilled in ordering the sacking of a hacienda as in defend- ing a mountain pass or assaulting some unwary town, — had poured in and filled every vacant nook in the village huts, inid occupied the long-deserted reduction- works and the ruinous huts along the watercourse, and overran the courts and yards of the great house itself. The great conical storehouses of small grains and corn were opemid and the mill invaded by the soldiers, who under tho half-reluctant directions of the skilled workmen kept tue somewhat primitive machinery in constant mo- tion, — varying their emploj-ment by breaking the half- wild horses brought in from the wide pastures and talking lov(; to the village girls, who in all their lives had never before beheld a holiday-making half so delightful. The long-closed church too was thrown open, and a priest from the next village was busied all day long shriving the sins of tliose whom he shrewdly suspected were ready to raise the standard of revolt against the temporal rule of the Church, whose ghostly powers had oversliadowed earth with the terrors of its supernatural dominion. Ruiz had gained a certain fame, more as a reflection from that of the man with whom he had been associate -1 tlian from any daring episodes in his own career ; and he actually possessed a military training that ordinarily well filled the place of innate genius, and at other times counterfeited it. He had impressed Don Rafat;! as a man well suited, if hedged with precautions, to kuid the forces that his representations induced Dofia Isabel to send to the relief of her favorite Gonzales. A leader of more positive aspirations and declare*] opinions tJian Ruiz m.ini- fested, would not so happily have welded and moulded men of sr.oh diverse and conilioling elements, — men who, accustomed to tlie freedom oi" guerilla warfare, were more 18 I :( ;, :;r i 274 CHAT A AND CIIINTTA. ■i^ fl J" ' m- rcacly to be led by the glitter than the substance of author- ity. A man of straw, who though answering a purpose for the time could create no diversion of devotion to his own person in detriment to the supremacy of Gonzales, was sought and found in Ruiz. He was indeed the simple tool of Dona Isabel Garcia, manipulated by her administrador, yet so skilfully that he came to think him- self tlic moving power whicli from an isolated farmhouse had within a few days changed Los Trcs Ilermanos into a miUtar}' camp. In proportion with the importance of the position into which Ruiz was forced his love and daring grew, and ho remembered that many men of family as obseure, and certainly of less tact and talent than he, had crowned tlioir fortunes by marriage with beautiful daughters of rich houses ; and he even began to reflect with some dissatis- faction upon Chinitr's doubtful status, although a few days before he had despaired of rising to a height where he might dare so much as touch the hand of Doiia Isabel's favored protegee. These changes of feeling were watched from diy to day with amusement by Ashley Ward, and with rage by Pepc;, as with despair he saw himself fading corapletcl}'^ from the horizon of Chinita's life, and a new and dazzling star rising upon her view. More than once Ashley Ward saw him nervously fingering the knife in his belt, as the unconscious Ruiz stood by the fountain in the moonlight and strummed the strings of a bandoline, and in the shrill tenor which seems the natural vehicle of such weird strains sang the paloma^ " the Dove," or Te amo^ " I love thee," — sounds pleasing in any female ear, though doubtless, thought Dona Isabel, intended to reach the heart of one partic- ular fair one ; at which she smiled as she imagined this to be the pretty brown Rosario, while the tender notes in reality appealed not quite in vain to the girl who with a remarkal)le semblance of patience shared the seclusion of her own life. Once only had Chinita rebelled, and that wos when, instead of her usual ramble in the garden with P^eliz or Dona Isabel herself, slie liad asked to be driven through the village, past the reduction-works, th it she might sec the preparations of which the distant - ;:Tids reached her. torn inc SOUi the^ renu equ an( clier sub who un( sufli cess of wai'i whit CHATA AND CHLXITA. 27.J luthor- iirposo to his izales, Bcl tho )y her k him- nhousG 38 into m into and ho e, and ;d thoir of rich [issatis- a few ; whore Isabel's r to day y Pcpo, 'rom the xr rising !aw him jnscious rummod ►r which sang the - sounds thought Q partic- [1 this to notes in o with a seclusion £)S when, Feliz or , through uight sec ched her. She would not be appeased at Dona Isabel's refusal, even by tlic suggestion that she should stand upon the balcony' of the central window, whence she could overlook tho scene for miles ; and so contrary was her humor tiiat Dona Isabel was glad to agree to her sudden fancy that her old playfellow Tepu should be allowed to describe to lier what he had seen. "Men see more than women," the wilful girl exclaimed; "he will tell me something more than of the chickens that are stolen, and tho mnnbor of tortillas that are eaten. Ay, Dios ! 1 would 1 wore a man myself, to bo a soldier ! " So toward evening a message brought by Dona Foliz herself startled the sullen Pope. Ashley Ward watched the youth with some curiosity as he sauntered across the court and ascended the stone stairs. Tepo's dress that day was in a Saturday's state of grime, and at best consisted of a shabby suit of 3'ellow buckskin, from whicii the metal but- tons had mostl}' dropped, and which gaped at the armholos as widely as at the waistband ; and his leathern sandals and sombrero of woven grass showed signs of age, corre- sponding to that of tho ragged blanket he wore with such an air that he might have been taken for the ver}- king of idle loungers. Dona Isabel glanced up at him as he muttered the cus- tomary salutation, uncovering his shock of black liair and inclining his head to her, while his black C3'es fui'tively sought Chinita. Th; re was nothing in his appearance for the most careful duenna to fear, and although Dona Isabel remembered that a few weeks ago those two had boon equals, they now seemed as widely sundered as tho polos ; and knowing the prolixity with which the ordmar}' ran- cliero usually approached and gave his views upon any subject, she witlidrew to the lower end of the gallery, whore she might count her beads or con her thoughts undisturbed. The murmur of voices reached her with suflicient distinctness for her to know that the usual pro- cess of minute questioning and tantalizing indolinitoness of answer was in progress ; and at length, soothed by the warm still air, the low song of a bird in the orange-tree which exhaled a sweet and heavy odor, and the habitual absorption of Iior own relloctions, she failed to notice th.'it the murmur of the voices grew loss and less distinct. ^-$V It '!-'■ 270 ClfA'/A AX/) CIIINITA. ii! 1 1-, #fl^i'! :■!:• .'ind iiidcod blended faintly with Hie low medley of sounds peculiar to the coininjjj eveniugtule. '* TepcV' Cliiuita was saying' tlien, in n tone a litllo above a wliisi)ei', "^ tell nie, Ih it true that this Don KiT- nando Kni/, who for love of Hosario, :ind to please Don Rafael and l)on;i Isabel, is to lead these rei'i'uits to join Don (Jon/ales, - tell nie, is it tine that he was tht; associ- ate of that iianiirez who was here ho many years u<40? " '' It is likely," answered V('\)(\ sullenly. " J have heard that h(» is Ramirez's p^odson ; and what more likely," he fiddi'd in an undertone, " than that the Devil should atuud s[)onsor for an imp of his own blackiu>ss?" •' In that case," said Chinita, shar[)ly, " it is impossible Ruiz has pronounced a<:;ainst him. Whoever heard of a, godchild drawinsc sand id again y^es were in, faint lad soon le words ist of liis 8 potent it. For lesire to > rightful ive been 'lie abso- Q seemed 1 it came e had in he stood \ life had w surged )se sands I cry for at he be the mos- :h1 to de- lad boon thoni2;h a r still at ig to the s life, — Lgo which 3uld ever have been more than a mere sentimental dedication of the lovers one to the other, in whicli they deemed themselves man and wife in the sight of God, but which in the sight of man was a mere illicit connection, to be condemned or ignored, — that he had not dared to present himself before the haughty mother of the one Ilerlinda whom he suspected to have been the object of his cousin's passion, and to insult her with questions or insinuations that would cast a doubt upon her daughter's purity and a stain upon the fame of the house of Garcia, which even the blood of John Ashley and his own added thereto would be insulli- cient to wash away. The young man had decided then to accept the order of (■ smissal, so delicately conveyed in the intimation that by accepting tJie escort of the troops as far as they might proceed toward Guanapila, he would not only reach a point whence in all probability he might in safety proceed to that eit3% but that he would thus render a favor to Dona Isabel, who was minded by the same opportunity to with- draw from the hacienda, — her presence there being liable to act as a lure to either party, who might after seizing her person levy a ransom upon the family which even their large resources would be severel}' strained to meet. Although the fiction was maintained that her assistance of the Liberal cause was involuntary, it was readily sur- mised that Dofia Isabel Garcia was in reality seeking to avoid the vengeance of the Conservatives, while their forces were so demoralized and scattered that she might hope to reach Guanapila, which was then occupied bj^ a patriot guard, before the tide of the war should turn and bring the army of the Church again to the fore en masse^ — collected by the clarion cry of fanaticism, and lavish'.y rewarded from the hoards of silver and gold drawn from the vaults into which for generations had been drained the prosperit}' and the ver}' life-blood of tlie peasantry. Ashley Ward had been struck with admiration of the woman who thus dared the dangers of the road, — to which she had been no stranger. lie had felt something of the chivalrous enthusiasm of a knight of old, as he joined the irregular band which by daylight had gathered upon the sandy plain before the straggling village. The soldiers had fallen into march with something like order, with Iluiz; U\ 284 CIIATA AND CIIINITA. ' if i 1 at their head, — for once with an anxious face, for he f«jlt that tlie die was cast, and that he had raised up for him- self an enemy whom it would be mad temerit}' to face, and hopeless to attempt to conciliate. The baggage-mules were driven by the leathern-clad muleteers, who even thus early had begun their piofane adjurations to the nimble- footed beasts, that listened with quivering ears thrown back in obstinate surprise at every unwonted silence. The women v/ho had come from other villages had laughed and chided their unruly infants, as they arranged and re- arranged their baskets of maize and vegetables upon the panniers of their donkeys, if they were fortunate enough to possess any, or upon their own shoulders if they were to walk ; and those who were for the first time leav- ing their birthplace to follow the fortunes of husband or sweetheart, had burst into loud fomentations. Ashley had been glad to find these changed to laughter, however, before they were well past the broken wall of th^ rciiluc- tion-works ; which they skirted, entering upon ♦ je bridle- path which led across the hill, where the rouga heaps of sand showed through the scattered cacti, and where, by the rude wooden crosses, he now for the first time learned lay the village graveyard. Pepe had ridden sullenly by his side. He had been sent back with a sharp reprimand from the station he had taken among the mounted servants who surrounded tl ? carriage of Dona Isabel, Ruiz in petty tyranny refusin.< him so honorable a place. A glance from Chinita had been the deepest reproof of all ; and as he pondered upon it, certain words which she had uttered, and which he had hitherto forgotten, had come into his mind. As t.^ey neared the gi'aveyard his ej'O caught vVtird's, and suddenly laying his hand upon the bridle of the American's horse, he had muttered, — " Seiior, she thinks I have forgotten all her wishes ; but there is not even one so foolish that 1 scorn it. Turn aside but for a moment, Senor, — here where the adobe has fallen, your horse can scramble through the wall. Follow me, they will not miss us before we can reach our places again. Caramba! Don Fernando watches me as a cat watches a mouse. Here, Seiior, — never mind the women. Stupids ! how they herd their donkeys together, when i- I CHATA AND CHIN/TA. 285 for he felt ip for biin- ;}' to face, ;age-rnules even thus he iiimble- irs thrown !nce. The .d laughed ed and re- 1 upon the te enough i'S if they time leav- lusband or lishley had however, th'- roiiluc- ♦ je bridle- 1 heaps of where, by ae learned had been ion he had unded tl :• y refusing hinita had lered upon which he As t'^ey 1 suddenly in's horse, ishes ; but rurn aside adobe has 1. Follow our places } as a cat he women, her, when they might have the whole hillside to pick tiicir own paths on ! I'atiencc ! Let us wait a little, Scfior ! Ah," lie reflected, as they remained silent and motionless •' there ifl the spot. I have never forgotten it since 1 followed her through the rushes dovn tliere by tlio stream, and scratciicd my face in the tunas, darting behind them that she sliould not sec me. I was not half so tired as Chinita was though, when she sat down to rub sand upon her -^^'ang hands, and fell asleep with the stn beating upon her head. I wonder if she ever thought it was I who coA 3red her face with her ragged reboso, — she wears one of silk now, as clean and soft as a dove's breast, — or that I lay behind the big pipec of the llowering organ-plant as she turned over the fallen cross whicli her h::nd struck against, and read the name and age of the American who iiad been murdered years before? Who ever would have thought — for I hated her then if I did follow her, as she maddens me now with her soft eyes and her mocking smile — that I should be bringing here the man who perhaps is just the handsome, woman-mad- dening demon they say that other was, and at her will too? Ave Maria Purissima ! what God wills the very saiuLa themselves may not say No to, — much less a poor peasant like Pep^ Ortiz." These thoughts, perhaps scarcely in the order in which they are set down, passed through the mind of Pepe, as lingering until the straggling procession had passed, he emerged from the shade of such an organ-plant as had once sheltered him years ago, and taking his bearings with unerring eyes, beckoned to Ashley, — who had waited within touch of his hand, and whose heart had begun to beat suffocatingl}', though he knew that it was utterly improbable that anything more important than the mound that covered the bod}' of his cousin would meet his eye, — and led the way to the most wind-swept and desolate portion of that paupers' acre, and presently stooping where the ground was sunken rather than heaped, turned with some effort the half-buried cross, and exposed to Ashley's view the name from which his own had been derived. The young man gazed at it in a sort of fascination, actually spelling the letters over and over. He felt as if \ 'III 1 f. M'; 28G CtTATA AND CinNFTA, ! i *' : ! a part of himsolf must be buried there. His eyes burned ; the glaring sunshine leaped and quivered above the ill- carved letters, distorting and confounding them. His heart boat violently ; every sense but that of hearing seemed to fail him, and every sound upon the air became a weird, mysterious voice, — blood crying unto its kin- dred blood. This deep emotion fixed the indifferent and wandering eye of Pepu, who, holding the bridles of the horses, stot^cl near, impatient to be gone, yet intending to watch out of sight the last stragglers ; for it was with a double i)ur- pose he had turned aside to point out the grave of the Ame- rican, — first, perhai)s, to gratify the seem ingl}' jesting wish of Chinita ; and then to seize the opportunity to turn his ficet steed into the narrow bridle-path which led to mountain villages, where he shrewdly suspected Pedro might be found, or at least be heard of. He had ))romised to carry the message of Chinita to Pedro, and would have set forth upon the very night she had charged him with it, but until mounted by lluiz's command had found it impossible to provide himself with a horse, without which it was hopeless for him to attempt his quest. To escape the discipline of the ranks, he had induced Ashley to retain him as his servant, feeling no scruple at his in- tended abandonment. As his eye rested upon the pale and excited countenance of Ashley, Chinita's words, with which she had bade him taunt him, flashed into his mind ; yet he forbore to utter them, saying presently in a tone of concern, — " Let us go now, Seiior, it is growing hot. It is almost noon, and you are faint. Let us ride on, and I will point out the way that you must take when we have crossed the face of the hill. Then comes a slight descent, Seiior, and upon the little plain that lies between that and the canon of the Water-pots will the troop stop for the nooning. This has been a rapid march. Dona Isabel will feel all the safer when she is once on the highway. But as for us, Seiior, we must part company. You will find a better servant ; I should but ill serve your gi'ace. You know yourself I am but a stupid fellow, and it is only the patience of 3'our grace that has been equal to my ignorance." Ashley heard neither the excuses of Pepc nor his own li.-i \ CirATA AND cnrNiTA. 287 \ burned ; 3 the ill- )ra. Ills heariiij^ r bccainu > its kill- zander in jjj ics, stood i^atch out ubie piir- the Anie- tinj^ '.vinli to turn •li led to (d l*cdro jM'omised >uld have ged him ad found without est. To Ashley it his in- thc pale rds, with is mind ; a tone of is almost vill point )ssed the nor, and lie canon This all the 3 for us, a better on know patience his own »S praises, but with a gesture at once commanding and en- treating the servant to leave him, said : " Tepo, 1 had forgotten. There is something which will keep mo still at Trcs llcrmanos. The Senora Dofia Isabel must pardon mc. Go! go to your duty, as 1 must to mine. God ! how could I have forgotten it? Oh John, John ! does time and distance make men so unnatural? Is it possible I could leave the place where you were so foully murdered, without knowing why or by whom? Who killed him, and why was the deadly' and secret blow struck? Ah, that involves the question of the very m3'stcry I came hero to fathom, and which I was turning my back upon ; for I am con- vinced that it is here, and not by foUov/ing Dona Isabel Garcia, that it may be solved. She is too resolute, too astute > nothing is to be forced or beguiled from her Hi)s ! But now that the spell of her presence is removed, I may learn everything from these people, who with all their cun- ning and clannish devotion can surely be influenced by reasons such as I can give." " Who would have guessed the sight of a grave would so stir the blood?" soliloquized Pepu. " Can it bo that Chinita — But no, she was more in jest than earnest ; sho always laughed at the nina Chata for her sorrow for tho foreigner. — Well, all must die ! " ho said aloud. " Believe me, Seiior, after all these years a knife-thrust is a littlo matter to inquire into. Caramba I Chinita herself would tell you that to turn back on a journey because of the dead is an omen of evil ; 't was not for that she would have me show j'ou the grave of your countryman, — God rest him!" Ashley looked at him keenly. "Ah," ho said, *' it is then no accident that you have brought mo here? God ! what a mystery ! Pepo, toll Chinita I know her thoughts, and that I never will rest till I prove them right or wrong. She is a strange creature, and likely to prove an enigma to more men than myself. Poor lad, she is not for you to dream of." " I will not see her again till I can tell her that which shall please her," said Pepe. " Look 3'ou, Senor, she is one who will have the world turn to suit her." *' A wilful girl," thought Ashley, with judicial disappro- val. " She has all the craftiness and deceit of the Indian 'M Ih*' 288 CJ/ATA AND CIIINITA. be certain that no straggler was movements. The troops and their fol- and the pride and passion of a Spaniard ; 3'ct what if I slioiild follow her? No, no! mere circumstance and conjecture sliall not turn rae I — Adios, Pepo," ho said aloud, "and beware! It is Dofta Isabid you serve, and not the young girl who has bewitched you." Pepo smiled vaguely ; his glance roved over the land- scape. " Her heart is virgin honey in a cup of alabaster ! " he murmured. Ashley was becoming accustomed to the poetic expressions of these unlettered rancheros, and with some impatience took in his own hand the bridle-rein of his horse, and reminding Pepe that it was nearly noon, and that he would be missed should he longer delay, bade him mount and hasten with messages of excuse to Dona Isabel for his own sudden return to Trcs Ilermanos. With the customary apparent submission of a peasant, Pepe prepared to obey. He was in fact anxious to set forth as soon as he could near to mark his lowers had disappeared. "■ The Senor Don 'G uardo should leave this solitary spot on the instant," he said with genu- injB concern ; "in these days of revolution, one can never sa^' what dangerous people may be wandering abroad." " I have nothing to fear from them," answered Ashley, " unless it should be that they might attempt to rob mo of the horse Dofla Isabel has lent mc. Well, for its sake, I will be prudent; though in truth the sight of a ghost in tins desolate spot of sunken graves would seem more probable than that any living being should pass here. Now, then, good-by, Pep^." ♦* Until our next meeting, Seiior ! " replied Pep^, gravely lifting his hat. He had attached himself to Ashley, and it seemed to him an evil omen that they should part at a grave, and he thus attempted to console himself by the pretence that it was but for a little while. " For a short time Senor, and God keep you ! " Ashley shook his hand warmly. The ranchero drew his hat over his eyes, adjusted his serape so that his face was almost hidden, and dropping into that utterly ungraceful posture into which the skilled horseman of Mexico relapses when he suffers his steed to take his own wa}' and pace across a wearisome stretch of country, he t,urned his horse's head toward the bridle-path they had lert, and slowly ro- CJ/AIA A AD CJllNirA 289 coded from Ashley's gaze. Once however hoj-ond the croat of the hill, the rider's eye brightened, his figure straight- ened ; a distant sound of voices reached his keen ear, — it was 80 remote that but for the rarity of the atrnosphcrc it would have failed to reach him. Bending his head, he listened intently for a nioniont ; then raising it he gazed searchingly on every hand, rode for a short distance to tlm right, guided his nimble-footed beast down the cleft sid(>s of a deep ravine and along the dry bottom of a rock- strewn path, which rapid floods had in some past time cut in their fierce descent from the steep sides of the frowning mountains, and so gradually gained the dark and solitary defiles that led directly to those eyries of bandit moun- taineers, who under the guise of shepherds, charcoal-burn- ers, and goat-herds had been, as Pepi' well knew, the chosen comrades of Pedro Gomez and his mates in the boyhood days of that Don Leon whoso wild deeds were still the theme of many a tale, and like the story of his death became more mythical with every repetition. Pope rode steadily on for hours, picturing to himself his meeting with Pedro should he find him, or the quiet exul- tation of Chinita when she should hear that he had deserted the troops, or of the return of Don 'Guardo to the haci- enda. In his heart he was not displeased that tiie Ameri- can should be separated from Chinita, though it left her the more completely to the gallant care of Ruiz. He had comprehended instantly the emotion which had seized upon Ashley at his kinsman's grave, — the instinct for revenge. He said to himself that those Americans, after all, were people of sensibility, and he felt a certain satis- faction that he had been the instrument of calling into action a sentiment that did the foreigner so much credit. Meanwhile the heat of noon passed, and A8hle3'*8 horse stood with patient dejection in the shadow of the huge cactus to which he had been tethered, not even taking advantage of the freedom allowed by the length of the rope, so little temptation to browse was offered b}' the sparse and coarse tufts of herbage which struggled into existence here and there. The time wore on, and an oc- casional stamp attested his disapprobation of a master who lay prone upon the ground under a mcsquite tree 4\ \x 290 en ATA AND CHINITA. M I .tr'i when the sun shone hottest, anci who when the cool breeze of afternoon swept over the silent spot, stood long and still beside the grave he had not sought, and yet felt infinite reluctance to leave. It was a foolish thought, but as he gazed across tlic broad valley to the great square of buildings set among the fields, the youth imagined how indeed the dead man might at times steal forth to visit again those fertile scones where he had lived and loved. As he stood there, Ashley could see the people like pigmies passing in and out the great gateway, or going from hut to hut in the village. There was one figure — it seemed that of a woman — which his eye sought from time to time, as it appeared and disappeared in the corn and bean fields, and at last came out on the open road that lay between them and the reduction-works. He was becoming quite fascin- ated by its hesitating yet persistent progress, when ho was startled by a sound ; and glancing up, he saw a man leaning upon the crumbling wall and regarding him with a gaze &o bewildered, so fixed, that involuntarily he moved a step toward him. The stranger started, as if some frightful spell had been broken. Ashley saw that he crossed himself, and mut- tered some invocation ; yet that he had not the look of a nervous man or a coward, but rather of a somnambulist pacing the earth under the impulse of some horrible dream. The man was not ill-looking, — no, decidtdly not ; and though his skin was deeply browned as if from much exposure, and his cheek bones were prominent, giving his face a certain cast below the eyes that was plebeian or Indian in character, the eyes themselves were dilated and brilliant, and the straight nose and pointed beard gave him the air of a Spanish cavalier, though he wore the broad sombrero and scrape of a common soldier of the rural order. Perhaps on ordinary occasions even a i^ore practised eye than that of Ashley Ward would have accepted the stranger for what he purported to be ; but the American with an extraordinary feeling of repulsion little accounted for by the mere sense of intrusion caused by the man's unexpected appearance, at once leaped to the conclusion that his dress — though he had no iippcaranco of strangeness in it — was virtually a disguise, and that en ATA AND CHINITA. 291 ool breeze long and yet felt across the set among dead man osc fertile ood there, ing in and hut in the that of a time, as it fields, and ween them iiite fascin- I, when he saw a man g him with untarily ho ell had been f, and mut- le look of a Dmnambulist ime horrible 3, decidedly d as if from 1 prominent, ^es that "was nselves were and pointed r, though he umon soldier asions even a d would have a to be ; but [ of repulsion rusion caused lof^ped to the lo ivppearanco lise, and that instead of a soldier of the ranks, the man before him was of no ordinary position or character. The new-comer seemed to have risen out of the ground, so stealtliily had he approached. It would have been quite possible for him, tall as he was, to have skirted tluj wall without observation from any one within the enclo- sure. But undoubtedly he had taken no precaution in that solitary place, which except at funeral times was shunned as the haunt of ghosts and ill-omened birds and reptiles, and thus had come unexpectedly upon the motion- less figure of the tall young man clothed in a plain riding- suit of black, with bright conspicuous locks at the moment uncovered, and fair-skinned face of a characteristic Amer- ican type, — all unremarkable in themselves but associated in the mind of the observer with one whom he had seen but twice or thrice, and this on the mad night when the moon had shone down upon a victim quivering in the death-agony above which he had exulted. The two men held each the other's gaze in silence for a full minute, both unmindful of the common courtesy usual in such chance encounters in solitary places. Then re- covering from the superstitious awe which had over- powered him, the Mexican stepped over tho broken wall. Ashlej' noticed as he did so that heavy silver spurs were on his heels, and that the fringed sides of his leathern trousers were stained as though with hard riding, and that, as if from habit, rather than any purpose of menace, his ner- vous hand closed upon the pistol in his scarlet band, as with a few long strides he reached the spot on which Ashley stood with that air of defiance which a sudden in- trusion upon a solitude however secure naturally arouses in a man who is neither a coward nor m adept in the self-command that is perhaps tlie most [xcrfect substitute for invincible courage. " Senor," said the Mexican, " your pistols are on your saddle. You are right; this is an evil habit to wear them so readily at one's side. Pardon me if in my sur- prise I assumed an attitude of menace ; but these are troublous times. One scarcely expects to find a cavalier alone in such a place." He looked around him with a smile, which did not hinder a quiver of the lip expressing an excitement which his commonplace words denied. m 41' ;! V. ■\ '> WiW^ i V JS; !;i ^■i ■■■ If': . -i m ■ - ■1: ■ 't m ^^■■i ■■1 202 CHATA AND CIUNirA. Ashley regarded the speaker with ever increasing repng- nuncc. It was true his pistols hung from the saddle, but tliere was a small knife in his belt, and his hand wan- dered to it stealthily as he answered : '' Seiior, I make no inquir}^ why you are here, and on foot, — which you must acknowledge might well cause some curiosity in this place ; but in all courtesy I trust your errand is a happier one than mine. Whatever it is, I will not intrude upon it longer than will suffice to plant this cross." And with an air of perfect security, yet with his knife in hand, he bent to the work, which the other regarded with an almost in- credulous gaze, — the preservation of a grave or its tokens being a sort of sentimentality to which by tradition and training he was a stranger ; and to see it exhibited for the first time in this God's acre of laborers, almost sufficed to dissipate the impression the unexpected encounter had made upon him. As Ashle.y quietl}' pursued his ■•.vork, the new-comer had an opportunity to look at him narrowly. After all, this one was like man}' another American ! Yet there was something in the 3'oung man's appearance that brought the sweat to the brow of the soldier ; he pushed back his hat, and breathed hard. As he did so, Ashley braced the cross against his knee. The action brought the letters into clear and direct view. The eyes of the Mexican rested upon them. He fell back a step or two in superstitious awe, involuntarily exclaiming : " Cristot was he buried here? And who are you?" Ashley glanced up. There was a revelation to him in the questioner's disordered and ashy countenance. He dropped the cross, sprang over the grave, and seized the stranger by the right arm. "Who are you who ask?" he cried. " What do you know of the man who is buried there?" " My faith ! you are a brave man to put such questions ! " retorted the new-comer, wrenching himself free. Ashley had spoken in English, but the violence of his act had interpreted his words. " Take your pistols and defend yourself, if you are here for vengeance. Kill him? Yes ; I killed him as I would a dog. Faith, I thought it was his accursed ghost that had risen to challenge hie ! " " I am hi"; cousin ! Assassin, give me reasons for your deed ! " cried Ashley, furiously, yet with a remembrance CHATA AND CHINITA. 293 ing rcpiig- jacUlle, but land wan- I make no 1 you must this place ; appier one Ic upon it nd witli an id, he bent I almost in- r its tokens idition and ited for the sufficed to ounter had I his v/ork, n narrowly, rican ! Yet ;arance that ; he pushed so, Ashley on brought jyes of the 3p or two in •e you ? " n to him in nance. He seized the who ask ? " ho is buried questions ! " ■ce. Ashley his act had and defend him? Yes; )ught it was ige hie!" ions for your ■emembrance that to every criminal should be allowed some chance of justification. But the Mexican seemed little inclined to profit by it. " Reasons ! " cried he. " Yes, such reasons as 1 gave him when I thrust the knife into his heart." He raised liis pistol and fired. The shot passed so close to Ashley's temple that he heard it whiz through the air. In the same instant the two men clinched. The horse, which during the controversy had plunged and reared madly, broke away, and careering over the graves galloped wildly down the hillside. A fresh horse with its rider at the same in- stant dashed into the enclosure, and a voice cried, " For God's sake my General ! what adventure is this ? Mount ! mount ! there is no time to be lost ! " The combatants at the sound of a third voice had in- voluntarily paused. Had the knife in the hand of the American been in that of the Mexican it would have sheathed itself in his opponent's heart ; but Ashley, less ready in its use, arrested his hand midway. His passion half spent, the scarcely healed wound throbbing in his shoulder, his strength exhausted, he had much ado to keep himself from staggering. " A touch of my sabre would finish him," said the new- comer coolly, as he reined in his restive horse, and put his hand on the long weapon swinging from his saddle. But the soldier stopped hiiu. "No killing in cold blood," he exclaimed. "'Tis a madman, but his fury is over. What brings you here, lleyes? Were you not to wait at the rendezvous?" " Wait!" he retorted, "this is no time to wait! We are already a day too late. A thousand men are on the road before us, m}^ General ! We let them pass us this morning as we lingered on the opposite side of the moun- tain in the Devil's gate ! " "And the troops are there still?" cried the other furiously. " Where is Clioolooke? Did 3'ou not think to bring me a horse ? Back to the Zahuan, man ! We must begin the march this ver}"^ niglit. 1 know Ruiz ; he will yield in a moment at sight of inc ! " " Not ho ! " answered Reyes, "-lie has a new patroness ; Dona Isabel herself is with liiui." " Isabel ! " cried the ollicer with an oath. " Ah, then, • f iL ^jis ^ m 294 CI/ATA AND CHINITA. '•II ,11! Trcs Hermanos is partisan at last! Carrhi! my lady Isabel shall find what she has begun shall be soon ended ! " He put a small silver whistle to his lips and blew a shrill blast, which wna answered by a neigh. A black horse lifted its head and looked over the wall with a gaze of almost human intelligence. " He followed me at a word," exclaimed Reyes, " and stood by the wall like a statue when I bade him. Never Avas there such another horse as your black Choolookc, my General. Even the stampede of that unbroken brute that was tethered here could not startle him." "Ay, I discipline horses better than I do men, — eh, Choolookc ? " The horse with its jingling accoutrements had cantered into the enclosure, and with one bound his owner was in the saddle. All had passed in the few minutes in which Ashley was recovering breath, and in utter bewilderment endeavoring to gain some insight into the meaning of this rapid trans- formation scene, of which he himself had formed a part. As his late opponent sprang into the saddle, he could have fancied he heard the sound of the bugle, so alert were the man's movements, so soldierly his bearing. IJut in the midst of his involuntary admiration he did not forget the extraordinary relations in which they stood to each other. He threw himself before the horse at the imminent risk of being trampled down. " Your name ! " he cried. " By your own admission you are my cousin's murderer. We must meet again ! I am Ashley Ward ; and you ? " " Out of the way ! " cried the rider, checking his horse by a dexterous turn of his hand. " My name? Ah, yes ! Toll them there," and he nodded in the direction of the haeionda, " the}' will soon have reason never to forget it ! " He hesitated ; plunged the spurs into his already im- patient steed, and dashed furiousl}' away, followed by lleyes ; then rose in his stirrups to shout back in defiance the name — " Ramirez ! " my lady n cmleil ! " ew a shrill lack horse a gaze of ives, " and in. Never Choolooke, okeu brute men, — ch, ioutrements 3 bound his Ashley was iudeavoring rapid trans- med a part, e, he could rle, so alert lis bearing, m he did not they stood horse at the our name ! " 1 my cousin's shlcy Ward; ng his horse )? Ah, yes! action of the io forget it ! " already iui- followed by ;k in defiance XXXI. Ramirez ! Ashley's heart bounded, his brain throbbed dizzily yet acutely. Here was no obscure assassin, who once escaping him would perhaps be lost forever. The name was on every lip with those of Juarez, Ortega, DegoUado, Miramon, and a score of other popular chief- tains who of one part}'^ oi another, or of independent fac- tions, attracted to themselves a host of followers, more by their own personal magnetism than for the sake of any principles they represented. In that time of anarchy any head that rose above the common herd led enthusiastic multitudes, who followed a nod and applauded to the echo even one deed of daring. But Ramirez held his prestige by no such recent and uncertain tenure ; throughout the long years of revolution he had been a central figure in the bloody drama. Even his recent defeat at El Toro and his subsequent disappearance had added but a fresh glamor of mystery to his adventurous career, without detracting from the almost superstitious awe with which he was re- garded. It was believed that he would reappear when and where least expected. Ashley Ward had smiled covertly at the strange and daring escapades attributed to this man. He had become in his mind a n'rure of romance ; and here in the broad day he had risen before him, the self-denounced murderer of John A ^hley, — and as sud- denly as he had come, so had he escaped him. Thinking no more of the cross, whi .. had fallen upon the ground, hiding beneath it the name that had been so long preserved for so strange a purpose, Ashley Ward turned from, the sunken graves and striding across the mounds, scarred and broken by the sacrilegious tread of the horses' feet, stood for a moment upon the broken wall, scanning the countr}' in his excilcMcnt for some sign of the desperate men who but a few monionts before had urged their restive steeds up the steep path and disap- m m 296 CHATA AND CHINITA. Rtvi m :1 ■ !• ■ peared over the crest of the hill. He saw his own reo- reant steed galloping toward the hacienda walls, keeping the high-road, on past the reduction-works and the long stretch of open country beyond, and plunging and rearing at the fatal mesquite-tree. The superstitious vaqueros had instinctively imbued their animals with the same irra- tional terrors in which they had themselves been trained. Yet no sight of ghost or smell of blood lingered there to rouse memory or vengeance. Their waiting-place had been that long-forgotten grave upon the desolate hillside. Ashley leaped from the wall and rapidly began the descent to the valley. The sun was still high in the heavens, for the scene we have recorded had passed in less than a brief quarter of an hour. As he walked on, gradually iUlling into a more natural pace, the whole matter took definite form and coherence in his mind. That which had been so unexpected, so unnatural, seemed to be the event to which his whole journey to Mexico, all his wanderings, his strange and wearisome experiences, bad inevitably and naturally tended. And then arose a point beyond. His work at Tres Hermanos seemed ended ; the primal cause of his being there was forgotten. The definite thought now in his mind was to reach the hacienda, provide himself anew with horse, guide, and arms, and follow on the path which Ramirez had chosen, and upon which he would sooner or later re-appear, de- coyed by the rich booty that Dofla Isabel had intrusted to the weak and presumably faithless Ruiz. C6uld he reach and warn her in time? Ashley's scarce-healed wound was throbbing painfully, the way was long, the heat intense ; yet he pressed on resolutely, though at last he staggered as he went. He sat down to rest awhile among the dry rushes of the spent watercourse, under a straggling cotton wood-tree, the few poor leaves of which scarcely sufficed to shade him from the fierce rays of the sun. A fever heat was in his veins ; wild theories and speculations passed through his brain, — some of them, perhaps, not far from being keys to the mystery of that tragedy which that day for the first time had become to his ? lind other than a vague and gloomy fantasy. Now, like the murderer himself, it was real, absorbing, appalling. CHATA AND CIIINITA. 297 own reo- , kteping the long id rearing vaqueros jame irra- n trained, d there to I had been ide. began the gh in the passed in iralked on, the whole his mind, al, seemed Mexico, ?periences, then arose [OS seemed 1 forgotten. I reach the guide, and ad chosen, ippear, de- 1 intrusted C6uld he r painfully, le pressed he went, shes of the 1 wood- tree, d to shade leat was in ed through from being lat day for lan a vague himself, it The young man rose and again pressed on. After the descent to the long rude wall of the reduction-works, ho skirted it slowly, thinking as he went how changed the aspect of the place must be since his cousin had ridden forth to his death. How proudly John had written, and almost vauntingly, of the prosperity his management had inaugurated, of the crowds of laden animals that passed in and out of the wide gates, of the men who led their slow, laborious lives among those primitive mills and wide floors of trodden ores. Ashley glanced at the great square mass of walls and towers of Tres Hermanos, glistening in the distance. To his weary eye it looked far away ; yet doubtless he thought it had been but the ride of a few eager minutes to the lover, as he went at midnight to cast a glance at the walls that circled his mistress, or to rein his horse beneath her window that he might win a word or glance from her who whispered from above. These, Ashley had heard, were lovers' ways in Mexico ; he did not know that no maiden of Tres Hermanos ever occupied one of the few apartments whose windows opened toward the outer air. Yet as he debated the matter with himself, it be- came more and more probable to him that John Ashley had upon the fatal night been actually within the walls of the hacienda, and been stealthily followed thence by his treacherous rival, — for what, he thought, even to a Spaniard, could justify so foul a murder but the falseness of his mistress, the triumph of a hated rival? Pedro's taciturnity and gloom Ashley construed as proofs of his complicity in the crime. Even then Ramirez had been a chieftain of renown, and Pedro in his youth had been a soldier, a free rider, of whom strange tales were told. Was it not probable that he liad opened the gate at a comrade's bidding, — or, more likely still, had bidden him wait beneath the tree where the favored lover was went to mount his horse, and so take him unawares? Ashlev re- niembered that such, it had been said, had been the man- ner of his cousin's taking off. He had been slain with the swiftness and sureness of avsecret and unhesitating avenger. Tlie ardent youth railed at the mocking chances that had combined to sull'or Ramirez to escape him in the un- premeditated struggle in which they hud clinched with a ^m U'.: :• ^'h N'f'*i(Oi iilil ill', 298 C//ATA AND ClIINITA. deadly enmity. In such a struggle he could have found himself the victor without remorse, or could have died without regret ; but it was not in his nature to follow a man for blood. Yet neither could he shut his ears to that cry for vengeance, for justice, which seemed ringing through the sultry stillness, — the more importunate as the possibilities of their attainment si aped themselves in his mind. That this must be a personal matter between himself and Ramirez was clear. At any time it would probably have been useless for an alien to have denounced so popular and influential a man as the proud and daring revolucionario. To attempt his arrest for a murder commi*;tGd 3'ears before and probably in rivalry for a lady's favor, would be but to throw a new mystcrj' about him, and add a fresh legend of romance to those which already made blm rather a character of ideal chivalr}' than of mere vulgai overy-day lawlessness and semi-barbarity. Though the brilliant adventurer was now undor a temporary cloud, one threat of attack from law would make him again a popular idol ; indeed it was likely that a pronunciamiento in his favor would be the immediate result, and that in falling into his hands the Amevican would lose, if not his life, at least all opportunity either of obtaining the satisfaction of the law for his cousin's death, or of investigating further those doubts and probabilities which he had forgotten, but which now came upon him with redoubled force. The excited Ashley planned in his mind to refresh himself upon reaching the hacienda, and demanding horse and guide to set forth upon that very night, hoping to rejoin the force at daybreak. It was useless, he reflected, to waste further time in idle questionings. It was to Dona Isabel herself he would appeal, and warning her of the danger that threatened her from the bandit chieftain, induce her to make common cause with him against one who for jears must liavc been their common enemy. Impossible was it for him to olve the mystery of the relations in which the several actors in this strange drama in which he was so unexpectedly taking part, stood cither to one another, or to himself. Then; was but one fact certain ; by that alone he could connect himself with beings who seemed almost of another world. CI/ATA AND CiriNITA. 2D9 — the one undoubted fact of the discovery of Johu Ashley's murderer. Ashley's ready apprehension of the public mind had been helped by what ho knew to be the actual state of affairs in the ranks to which Dona Isabel had intrusted the safety of her person, trusting to the resources which vero at her command, and to the present ascendency of Gonzales, to bind those soldiers of fortune to the cause she had espoused. Perhaps none knew better than she the elements that an alluring chance of gain Oi a transient enthusiasm had drawn together ; but she could not know liow near the fire lay to the straw, and how at her very side were those who in the name of patriotism — or, like Chinita, for a personal sentiment as unexplainable as it was imaginative and ardent — would sacrifice her dearest plans, and think it a grand and noble deed to raise the ubiquitous and dashing Ramirez upon the fall of the slow and cautious Gonzales. Ashley had imperfectly comprehended the scheme or its bearings ; he had little understood, and felt but little interest in, those strange complexities and per- sonalities of Mexican politics ; but now a sudden party /^eal and horror of treason seized him. Where was Pedro Gomez, who, having played traitor once, might do so a hundred times more? Where was Pep6? Had he rejoined the troops, or had the detour to the graveyard been but a clever plan for eluding them ? Were these, and perhaps lluiz too, the tools of Ramirez? Yet the latter had ap- peared to have ridden far ; the news of the gathering and departure of the troops had appeared to have astounded as much as it had enraged him. Who had carried the news to Rej'es? The way was long and the youth's excitement waning ; his recent illness and still aching wound began to declare their effects., In his full vigor Ashley Ward would have found the walk under the glaring sunshine — which, though no longer vertical, was fierce and blinding as it neared the western hilltops — more than he would have chosen for an afternoon's stroll. Weak as he was, and becoming pain- fully conscious that he had fasted since morning, he was glad to lean sometimes against the high adobe wall and measure with his eye the slowly decreasing distance. It was a landuiark on his way when he caught sight of the M?^ ■II Wi .* 300 en ATA AND CHINITA. H i 1 } i J: ( ■ s i III 'i W 1' I'fcf M ^ fit: 11 i- ii> ■ p\ '-» h ■ ' If' '1/ III "''I ijh^ 1 ' m N : It ' 1 'I :ii|i : ['i.\ 1 It '■' . ! li;::-;: ■III 1 t; 1 i m • 1 t ;' W\ 1 ^^ .. nil i'^1 iiji ilk'i ; ill; ' li'^ I'l,, ■ j Kfei-i : ■ mt ikL ■ i heavy gate set in the wall of the reduction-works ; he knew then just how much farther ho must ^o. lie had no thouj^ht of actually approaching it, but he noticed with surprise that one heavy valve was slightly ajar ; and with that sudden collapse which is apt to assail the overtasked frame at the unexpected sight of an oi)en door, however meagre the entertainment it may suggest, he dragged himself onward with the natural belief that he should lind within some servant or attache of the great house. But when he reached the gate and looked through the narrow aperture, a perfect stillness reigned within. No horse stamped in the courtyard ; no spurred heel rang on the pavement. Great cacti were pushing their gaunt and prickly branches into the narrow space, as if stretching longing arms out into the wide world from which they had been so long shut in. With some elfort Ashley thrust back the strong and aggressive barrier, and forced his wa}' in. Rank grass, which was at that season yellow and matted, had grown up between the cobble-stones, and raised them in little heaps, over which the lizards ran. One — fiery red — stopped as Ashley's boot-heel woke the echoes, and turned a wonder- ing ear, then glided swiftly on. Between the main building and the offices there was a small arched lobby, through which one entered the great court, upon which piles of broken ores and the long dried masses were spread. In this lobby in the olden time the workmen had been stopped by the watchman or gate- keeper and searched, — a proceeding to which they daily submitted with indifference, holding their arms on high while the practised searcher ran his hands over their thin and scanty garments, shook out the coarse serapo and tattered sombrero, peered among the rows of glistening teeth and under the tongue, for those fragments of rich ore or amalgam which in spite of all precautions, or by the connivance of the searcher, readied the outer world, net- ting in the aggregate a considerable surplus to the income of the laborers, which found its way to the gambling tables, or was spent in the adornment of their wives, — as was l)rovod by the great decline in the village of the manufac- ture! of filagree ornaments of quaint and delicate designs upon the closing of the Garcia mining- works. orks ; ho Ic had no iced with aud with vcrtaskecl ', however ! draj^ged liould lind use. But 10 narrow No horso ig on the ;aunt and stretching I they had troug and ink grass, grown up ,tlo heaps, (topped as a wondcr- lere was a tiie great ong dried time the or gate- ihey daily on high their thin ;rapo and glistening ts of rich or by the rorld, net- 10 income ng tables, — as was manufac- ,e designs CHAT A AND CHINITA. 301 ;^ Ashley, with a feeling of curiosity or a acnac of impend- ing action, whicli renewed his strength as a tonic might liave done, noticed that tiic door upon the side of tiie lobl»\' that opened into the main building or living rooms was also ajar. lie glanced in, but except where the long ray of light stole in through the aperture, whicli his person l)artially obscured, all was so dim that he saw only imper- fectly a few scattered articles of furniture, — anil they ap- peared to bo so old an• if!'! :f •Ij'-^ fl' general tjpc that in hor babyhood had given her that ro- serablance to Rosario, which daily grew less, and indeed had never been apparent to Ashley ; though in her face he had traced resemblances which had puzzled and bewildered him, and which as he gazed upon her now became still more confusing. As they had been conversing, Ashley and Chata had gradually drawn near to the door, where the light fell full upon the agitated girl. Yes, in the square brows, the heavily fringed lids resting upon the olive cheeks, — too broad beneath the eyes for beauty, but singularly delicate about the mouth and chin, — so far she resembled Ramirez ; or was it but a common Aztec type ? The mouth itself, sensitive, refined, — which should have parted but for laughter, — quivered with emotion, and the large gray eyes she lifted to Ashley's were singularly grave and earnest. Where had he seen such a mouth, such eyes ? The contrasts and combinations in the face confused him. Never had he seen its counterpart, 3'et fancy might under other circumstances have led him upon wild theories. That face familiar, yet strange, had haunted him since he had first seen it. Vainly he had sought in his mem- ory for some picture, some dream, with which to connect it. Now, though he had seen Ramirez, though Chata declared herself his child, the same feeling of uncertainty, of tantalizing familiarity j^et strangeness, remained ; the association of one with the other did not even momen- tarily satisfy him. He was not conscious that the face appealed to his imagination rather than to his memor}*, or that it had always awakened an interest different from that with which he had looked upon others. Certainly its beauty had not delighted him ; even as he looked at her now, the witching, glowing, ever-changing countenance of Chinita rose before him. "Strange! strange!" he murmured. " What can be the mystery that from the first has seemed to hover around you, to separate you from the rest?" "Ah, yes!" she said humbly. "I have realized that myself. Oh, for a long, long time I have felt as a stranger among them all, — they so good, so true; and I — O God, who am I? Ah, I used to pity Chinita, but they have given her her proper place. It must have been a CHATA AND CHINITA. 305 worthy one, or Dona Isabel would not have made her her child. But when they separate mc from Don Rafael what shall I be?" "Do not think of it. He — this Ramirez — is gone, perhaps never to return," said Ashle}', soothingly. " An(l if not, why should you go with him ? Appeal to Don Ra- fael, to Doiia Feliz." " Dona Rita has told me already that would be worse than useless," replied Chata. "Don Rafael and Dona Feliz have already interfered in his plans for me ; to thwart him further would be to make him their deadly enemy. Oh, 3'f)U know not, Senor, what men like Don Josd Ramiioz will do ; and yet he is m}' father ! " Her voice failed in an agony of terror and shame. Ash- ley's words died on his lips. Here was a grief he could hardly understand, against which he could offer no advice to one whose education and mind were so different from his own. What could he say to her to lessen the burden of her grief ? Surely not, as he would have done to Chi- nita, that she should strive to content herself in a destiny which would raise hor from an obscure station to wealth, — for the revolutionary chieftain, he supposed, had never- failing resources, — and to a certain dignity, as the daugh- ter of a popular hero. He could have imagined Chinita as glorying in such a position, and Rosario as reigning with a thousand airs and graces in the miniature court around her; but here was a child, a very child, shrinking from the possible contact with cruel and conscience-hardened adventurers, and stricken to the heart by the thought of losing the heritage of an honest name. Presently Chata spoke again, as though to speak to this stranger in whom she had involuntarily confided was, in spite of her self-reproach, to lay her long repression, her doubts and fears, before a shrine. Almost incoherently, in the rapid utterance of overwhelming excitemoit, she poured forth the story of the interview of Ramirez and Doiia Rita which she had overheard in the garden at El Toro. In her earnestness she did not even omit the pro- ject which had been discussed for uniting her future with that of Ruiz. Ashley's teeth became set and his lips pressed each other as he listened. Here indeed was con- firmation of the villain's claim ; and yet — and yet — :2() I •l.» il;: I 306 CHATA AND CHINITA, M i Hi' (t It cannot bo ! " ho interrupted. " I cannot believe it. You say yourself, your very being recoils from him — ah, it must be for some deep cause you hate him so ! And I too — I hate him. Did I not tell you I have a long arrcar of wrong to settle, and — " "You!" she ejaculated wonderingly. "What wrong can he have done to you? Was it he who robbed and wounded you?" " No, no I " he answered. " Those were but the chances of travel. There is something far greater than that ; but while you believe him to be your father, I will not talk to you of avenging myself. I should be a brute indeed to add a feather's weight to your trouble. Do not think of that again ; but believe me, there is some mystery neither of us understands. The truth may be far from what j'ou think it. I will demand it of Don Rafael, of Dona Feliz — they must know." She was looking at him wonderingly, almost in awe, with those large, clear, gray eyes, which seemed to have in them the reflection of a purer, calmer sky than the intense and fiery one beneath which she was born. As he looked at her, her very dress seemed a disguise, so entirely did she seem disassociated from the scenes in which he found her. "Ah," she said hopelessly, clasping her hands, "j'ou do not know my people as I do. I have not asked Don Rafael or Dona Feliz to tell me the secret of my birth. They have concealed it for some weighty reason, and until the time comes when they judge it right for me to know, I might plead with them in vain. 15y going to them I should but lose their love, and become the object of their suspicion and doubt. Oh, I could not endure that, I would not endure it ! Dona Rita is changed, is cold, dis- trustful ; and why should I by useless haste bring tlicir auger upon her ? No, no, Senor, I beg, I entreat you, say nothing to Don Rafael. Let me be in peace as long as I ma}'. My father has not come to-day ; perhaps he has forgotten me ! " " You reason wildly," said Ashley. " I cannot under- stand these strange duplicities ; yet 1 know it is (juite true I should gain nothing by direct questioning. What have I ever gained? No, it is to Dona Isabel I will go, and to Ramirez himself. But promise me, Chata," he added C 11 ATA AND CHINITA. 307 re. Now I may only watch and wait and pray. Ah ! what hard tasks for a woman such as I am ! But I have vowed ; I cannot retract ! '* " You are wrong ! " cried Ashley. " How strange that a woman of so much intelligence, of a conscience so pure, can sufler herself to be led bj' the spurious customs ancl traditions that pride and priestcraft together have fastened upon her people ! But your very reticence, Doiia Feliz, confirms my beliefs. I will go as you recommend, as my own judgment urged me, to follow the clew I have so un- expectedly obtained. Do not think that a vulgar and wolfish desire for vengeance alone actuates me ; but jus- tice must bo done. Even for Chata's sake, this man must not be suffered to continue his course unchecked." He would have added more, but Gabriel and Pancho, the vaqueros, came galloping up with mvas and cries of welcome. "Praised be our Holy Mother, and all the saihts ! " exclaimed one. " Don Rafael told us you were safe. Who would have thought the Scfiora and the nina Chatita would have found you no farther away than deaf and blind Refugio's? Ay, Dona Feliz, without seeking, finds more than will a dozen unlucky ones, though they have specta- cles and lanterns to aid them. In the name of reason, Don 'Guurdo, how happened youi' nag to throw you and 'Dii,'-' i' -> .■'1 i n -aJ 1 ■■ ■ I 4': wBk /.I H M Br;; .i II '}! '5 ' ! ir p fi I ' Hi I'ih ijijii' m:^^r tm 312 CI/ATA AND CH/NITA. gallop back tlms ? Ho is manageable enough with any of us — " and there was a suspicion of irony in the solicitude of the horseman, which did not escape Ashley as he answered, — *' To-morrow you shall have the whole tale. Tlicse roads of j'ours are no place for a man to linger on alone, lint for the present, remember I have a wound not too well healed, and am more anxious for supper than for re- counting adventures." "• Ah ! ah ! he was stopped on the road by banditti, — and has escaped." The vaqueros regarded Ashley with vastly increased respect. Their numbers were augmented as they neared the hacienda ; and when the party reached the gates, wild rumors of Ashley's prowess were already Hying from moutli to moutli. Ashley did not present an imposing figure as he passed in between the crowds of admiring women ; but he served to turn their thoughts from the unprecedented appearance of Chata, which was but unsatisfactorily explained by Don Rafael's ready fiction that she and Dona Feliz had been piously visiiing at the hut of old Refugio, and that upon the arrival of Asliley there, the j'oung girl had hastened to meet her father, and give him news of the American's safety. " Dona Feliz is even too careful of her grandchildren," said some of the more liberal. '* What harm would have come to the maiden from a walk of a few minutes, or a few words spoken, with an honorable young man such as he seems to be ? Now, if it were Don Alonzo, or that gay young Captain Ruiz, for example ! " Rosario, who had been leaning over the balcony as Ash- Jey arrived, heard something of what was said, and smiled. She was not at all ready to believe that Chata's walk had extended only as far as the hut of blind Refugio ; and that it had not been made in company with Dona Feliz she was quite certain. But she had no time just then to interest herself in Chata's affairs, — Iier own were far too engross- ing ; for the new clerk whom Carmen, at Dona Isabel's request, had sent from Guanapila, evidently was much more intent upon studying the charms of Rosario than his new duties, and in seeking favor in her eyes than in those of the administrudor himself. The new clerk was Don ■1. ■ II '1 CHATA AND ClfrNITA. 313 with any of c solicitude hlcy as he tie. These jr on alone, ind not too than for rc- banditti, — Ashley with J augmented arty reached vere ahcady as he passed lut he served I appearance lined by Don ,liz had been id that upon bad liastened D American's andchildren," n would have utes, or a few n such as he ,, or that gay Icony as Ash- a, and smiled. la's walk had I trio ; and that Feliz she was icn to interest r too engross- Doiia Isabel's tly was much )sario than his than in those lurk was Don Alonzo , and Don Alonzo was a handsome fellow, with the face of an angel, Doiia Rita said, — a contrast indeed to that little brown monkey Captain Uuiz ; and Kosario smiled coyly, and did not gainsay her. The next morning at an unusually early hour this same Don Alonzo tapped on Ashley's door. " Pardon, Senor," he said, " but the horses and servants are ready, and I have orders myself to accompany j'ou beyond the bound- aries of Tres Hcrmanos." The announcement was not a surprise. Ashley had arranged his departure with Don Rafael upon the preced- ing evening. He dressed hastily, and while partaking of his cup of chocolate, glanced often around him, in expec- tation of the appearance of Don Rafael or his mother ; but in vain. The American could no longer hope to learn at a parting moment what each had chosen to withhold. Ir- rationally, and against all likelihood, he ventured to hope that Chata might steal forth for a farewell word. He laughed at himself afterward for the thought, saying that the air of intrigue had begun to affect his own brain. Sooner than was usual, even in that land of early movement, Don Alonzo warned him it was growing late. It was not too late or early for Rosario to wave her little brown hand from her mother's window in token of adieu. Ashley did not see it, but he for whom it was intended did. So with more foreboding and reluctance than he could have imagined possible but a few hours before, Ashley once more rode forth from Tres Hermanos, — this time with a definite object, from which he felt there could be no turning back, no possible end but his own death or the downfall of a man to whom but yesterday he had been utterly indifferent, but who to-day was inseparable from all his thoughts, his passions, his purposes, — Ramirez the revolucionario, the declared murderer of John Ashley, the declared father of the young girl who seemed the very incarnation of honor and sensibility, of tenderness and purity. I I ''■.J . w 1 1 l'\ H^ ffiflH| i^ipnri m ■ ^ «^' XXXIII. llf-i,' . If* ■ ■ 1 k'^'i . i p- 1^ ^^ The dcpartiiro of Ashley Ward from Trcs Ilormanos was not so entirely disregarded as he had sup[)osed. It was not Kosario only,who left her chamber at daybreak. Scarcely had she disappeared in the gloom of Doiia Isabel's apart- ments on her way to the favorite balcony, when her father stepped out upon the corridor, starting as his eyes fell upon Dona Feliz, who, seemingly with the spirit of unrest that pervaded the household, at the same moment emerged from her room. With a muttered salutation each abandoned the original intention of exchanging a farewell word with the dej)arting guest ; and arresting their steps at the balustrade, they leaned over and listened intently to the sounds of the early exit. The light was still so uncertain that though Don Rafael noticed, he did not wonder at, the gray tinge upon his mother's face ; it seemed only in har- mony with tlie prevailing darkness. The rains of the past season had been insufficient, and a murky though almost inpalpable mist, felt rather than seen, brooded over the silent landscape. It was scarcely oppressive enough to affect the young men who rode forth stirring the sluggish air, nor the eager horses lifting their heads to fill their lungs with the breath of morning, and expelling it again with a force that agitated the stillness with a sound like a blow upon water ; yet it weighed in- expressibly both upon the body and mind of Don Rafael. As he had come to the corridor with a certainly in his mind that he should meet his mother, he had purposed to question her as to the actual occurrences of the day before, for the connection of Chata with the return of Ashley Ward remained entirely unexplained. That his mother Was satisfied that it was not a mere vulgar rendezvous into which she had been tempted, he was assured by her man- ner toward both the young man and the recreant girl ; indeed, it appeared that she had scarcely noticed an en ATA AND CniNITA. 315 incident whicli in that place, and at the at^c of Cliutu, was sullicient to array against a young girl tlic BUHpiciouH of the most trusting and generous of matrons. Yet Don Kafael could imagine no possible inducement but tliu voice of a lover that could have called her forth aloiuj from the great house, — for that Chata had gone alone, hu knew as well as did his keen-eyed daughter llosario. The last gray figure had long since di8ap[)eared from the outer court, into which they looked as into a distant and narrow vista ; the clank of the horses' hoofs upon tho paving had changed to the thud upon the roadway, then ceased altogether to be luard ; and Don Rafael turning his eyes upon his mother's face, had opened his lips to question her, — when with a thrill of surprise, which be- came terror even before the momentary utterance was repeated, he heard her laugh that strange, unmirthful, hollow laugh that indicates a mind diseased, while she said whispcringly, — *' He is gone. Yes ! yes ! I unbarred the door, and Pedro picked the lock so cleverly and noiselessly that the very watchman asleep across the threshold did not hear him. Ah, I knew Gregorio would be quiet enough by daylight ; but Leon was awake, wide awake. For all your tears, Isabel, he would not have gone but for me ; he swore he would kill Don Gregorio for the blow he gave him. Why did j'ou say 3*ou loved at last as a woman should the husband who was your brother's foe to death, and that j'ou sent him freedom that he might seek a death more worthy of his vi^lany than by the sword of an out- raged father, or the executioner's bullet? They were bitter words, and you knew they were false, — for even with your child lying dead through his persecution, you loved him still. And when he would not stir because of your taunts, but swore he would meet his fate and shame the callous heart whose love had been as weak as her sacrifice was forced and incomplete, what was there for you to do but to throw yourself on your knees before him, and entreat him for his mother's sake to be gone? Even then he would have stayed but for me, ' What ! ' I cried, ' to shame your sister, you will give another victory to the husband of Dolores?' " Ah, it is not tears that conquer such a man as Leon ! ■■£) y;' 316 CI/Al'A AND ClllNITA. %i'>\ In A moment he had sprung to his feet ; he had thrust Isabel aside, and me too, — yes, that was notliing. I'edro held his horse, but Leon glared at him as he sprang into the saddle. ' 1 Jut for you, I should have given the last blow at midnight,' he cried. ' It shall be thine some day, when tiiy master's account has been closed ! ' and with that he was gone. Yes, he is gone. Not a sound of the horse as he gallops ! Gone, and none too soon ! the morning is come," — and she uttered again that sound called a laugh. " Mother, what hast thou?" cried Don Rafael, clasping her arm, and noticing for the first time tlie deep hollows beneath her brilliant e3'e8, and the wide circles that made more appalling their unnatural glare. " Mother, thou art dreaming ! thy hand burns, and thy temples. Maria Sanctissima ! dost thou not know me? " " Know thee? — yes. Why, thou art Rafael," she an- swered, letting her eyes drop for a moment on his scared and anxious face. "Why should I not know thee? Had ever woman a better son ? Yes, yes, he is safe ; let Don Gregorio wake when he will, Leon is away. Ah, at the last he was not so cruel, — eh, Isabel? Why should you moan and wring your hands because he vowed never again but ])y his death should his name shame 3'ou? Ah I Ah ! Ah ! well, they say he died, shot and hanged to a tree as a miscreant should be. Do you believe it, Isabel? Yet why not? God of my soul! is it only the son of Pancho Valle that can be pitiless? Only — " so she muttered on, in a low monotonous voice, pacing the corridor with an uncertain step, varying from the halting motion of one about to fall, to the impetuous haste with which she fancied herself urging again the unwilling flight of the sullen and revengeful youth, whom she too, with the perversity of woman's heart, had loved as sincerely as she had condemned. Don Rafael followed her in a perturbation of surprise and terror, which drove from his mind all other thoughts save those that his remembrance of former plague-stricken sea- sons forced upon his mind. Fovor was in the air, and his mother was the first victim ! The rainj' season, which in most years cleared the black watercourses and the village itself of the accumulations of nine dr}' and almost torrid mouths, had failed to do its accustomed work. No rush- C II ATA AND CI/IX/TA. 317 ing torrents had clonrpd tlio wntcrcoursos ; but instead of proviiif^ the friend of hiinmnity water had beeonje its enemy, by niinglin<; scantily with the foul elements that had gathered during the long period of drouth, and wiiieh (exhaled the subtle miasma which even tlie pure air of tliat elevated region was powerless to render iinioxiou.s. Don Uafael absolutely wrung his hands before the evil he foresaw, and which neither experience nor intelligenco had led hira to combat with any sanitary precautions. That the fever should from time to time decimate the hacienda appeared to his mind one of tho inevitable calamities of life, no more to be avoided than the spring floods or the blasting lightning or the outburst of vol- canic fires. But had all these forces combined assailed him at once, his consternation could not have been greater than to witness in his mother the deliriuni which testified to the dreaded typhoid. As has been iMimated, his love for his mother was of no common order ; with- out being weak in judgment or irresolute i:\ character, he had been accustomed to share with her his every thought, and their sentiments and aims were ever in such perfect accord that a dissentient word had never arisen between them. As Don Rafael followed his mother in her erratic and excited movements, scarcely conscious of what he did, or of anything except that with each moment her talk grew more distracted, while her thoughts were persistently fixed upon the events and woes and passions of by-gono years, a door at the end of the corridor was timidly pushed open, and Chata's face peeped anxiously out. Had Don Rafael's thoughts been free, he would have wondered that tho girl was fully dressed at such an early hour ; but he did not even heed the explanation she hurriedly gave as she advanced to meet him. " I would not have left my grandmother alone, but she forbade me to come," she said. " Oh, I could not sleei). 1 thought the morning would never dawn. I went to her with the first light, but she would not listen to rac. She bade me leave her ; and I thought it was because she was angry, but it was this ! Oh, Father, is it a sickness? See, she does not know me ? Mama grande, it is I ; it is your Chata." " utt ' ■ ^ r iP liii 318 CHATA AND CHINITA. rjii; liiji .«:,., ii i; "Be silent!" exclaimed Don Rafael, the more sharply because of his extreme alarm. "Fly, Chata! fly to thy mother, thy sister ! Call old Selsa, any one who has sense and knows what remedies to bring. Why do you stare ? Do you think my mother is mad ? It is the fever. It is not for nothing that the rains have been delayed ^o long. Pitying Saints, as I rode by the ditches last week they were black as pitch and foul as a vulture's quarry. Run ! I will lead her to her room. A}^ ay, Mother, thou art strong, and not so old yet," — and with the tenderness of a child and the devotion of a lover the son g' ided the steps of the delirious yet gentle woman, who, half-conscious of her state, half-resentful of ciic, suffered herself to be led into the chamber she had quitted in apparent health but a brief quarter of an hour before. Apparent health only, for she had passed an utterly sleepless night, strangely excited by the events of the day, yet unable to fix her mind upon them. Chata, upon her return to the hacienda, had sought her own chamber ; and in the press of other thoughts Dona Feliz had failed to follow and to question her upon the strange escapade, which the whole character and bearing of the young girl combined to render utterly inexplicable, — for she had no data by which to connect it with the appearance of Ramirez at the cemetery, and she absolved Ashley Ward from any prc-arrangemcnt with the young girl as com- pletely as though they had been found a thousand miles asunder. As was natural, suspicions of some precocious love, of which some one of the many volatile and dashing youth that had lately gathered at the hacienda was the object, haunted the mind of Dofia Feliz ; but she rejected them with disdain, promising herself upon the early morning to demand the truth, not doubting she should learn it. Even while awake to the importance of the incident, and inwardl3' debating it, she was conscious that the remembrance of it, as well as of Ashley and his strange participation iu the life-drama in which slie had enacted so forced and painful a part, constantly strove to elude her, and was rLcalled with an effort that with every hour grew greater and less effective ; while all the events and actors of long ago passed in endless review before her, — Dona Isabel in her matronly girlhood, soothing and p*?r.„ CIIATA AND CIIINITA. 319 nore sharply i! fly to thy ho has sense you stare? fever. It is lycd -\o long. ;ek they were Run ! I will X art strong, 38S of a child e steps of the jcious of her to be led into health but a 3d an utterly ts of the day, ata, upon her ihambcr; and had failed to ige escapade, he young girl -for she had appearance of Ashley Ward girl as cora- lousand miles me precocious and dashing hacienda was 'eliz; but she •self upon the doubting she importance of was conscious S^shlcy and his which she had antly strove to ,hat with every 1 all the events lew before her, soothing and bribing with tender words and lavish gifts her wilful half- brother; Don Gregorio; the d\'ing Norberto; the scowl- ing and furious abductor ; then Ilerlinda and John Ashley. The pale procession, specti'al yet real, voiceless yet each repeating with irresistible eloquence the tale of his love, his guilt or anguish, passed before her, thrusting aside, as often as they re-appeared, the forms of those who at this new and critical point had appeared upon the scene. As the night passed, she was perfectly aware of this tantalizing inability to command her thoughts ; and as again and again she set herself to follow the probable course and effect of Ashley Ward's intervention in the fate of the man who to her se« "^d gifted with demoniacal powers for evil, and an absolute invulnerability to human vengeance, or as she began in mind to question Chata, the persons both of the young man and the girl seemed to fade from before her, and the voices that should have replied, were those which had been familiar years before, — often- cst that of Herlinda in wild repetition of her unhappy love, and agonized entreaties for the babe she was but to em- brace and forever relinquish. Through it all Doiia Feliz had retained the thought of Ashley's departure ; and with some vague thought that the sight of him would calm her fevered brain, she instinctively strove to accomplish the resolve with which she had begun the night. And thus her last conscious act before the positive delirium of the fever seized her, had been to look, with the half-fearful gaze of one who invokes yet dreads the vengeance of heaven, upon him who seemed to her morbid and supersti- tious mind fraught with a mission to avenge and right the innocent, — both the living and the dead. Don Rafael, in consternation, had recognized at once the serious character of his mother's illness. As he called aloud for help> and Chata with white and affrighted face hastened to obey his command, Rosario, followed by her mother in some confusion, appeared from the farther cor- ridor. Too much bewildered and alarmed to wonder at seeing his daughter also dressed and abroad at such an hour, her father exclaimed in impatience at the voluble reproaches of Dona Rita, who, pushing Rosario from the side of Dona Feliz, bade her cease from such tempting of Providence, affirming that for her own sins she (Dona m :i'i I ■il' 320 CHAT A AND CHINITA. Rita) must have been burdened with the plague of so reckless a child, and praying her in the name of the Holy Babe to fly from infection lest she should break her mother's heart by her premature decease. To all of which Rosario submitted with a sobbing declaration that she was already faint and ill, whereupon Dona Rita hastily retreated to her own room, dragging Rosario with her; and in spite of his hurriedly formed resolution to the contrary, Don Rafael was forced to confide his mother to the care of Chata and of the servants, who, subser- vient to the slightest wish even of this inexperienced girl, were however absolutely useless without the guiding presence of a superior. ^i! *;■ If I; : \\ *'V^ 'l-,i)i! If laguc of so of the Holy I break her , all of which on that she Rita hastily io with her; ation to the e his mother who, subser- lericnced girl, the guiding XXXIV. The hilltops were flooded with sunshine when the party from Tres Hermanos reached them ; the atmosphere was so clear, that looking back over the broad valley, spread with fields of maize and beans, and the half-tropical luxu- riance of fruit and flower, Ashley could distinguish every break and fret on the massive front of the great house, and recognized with a feeling almost of awe the tall, slender figure standing upon the centre balcony. She waved her hand in token of God-speed. Strange, inscrutable woman ! She had bidden him go forth as the minister of fate, she had furnished him with servants, horses, money, arms, — yet had spoken no word. Ashlc}' felt as though ''e were an enchanted knight in an enchanted land ! The traveller bade adieu to Don Alonzo in sight of his cousin's grave ; then, followed by his two servants, rode rapidly onward in the direction taken the da}' before by the troops and Dona Isabel, by Ramirez and Reyes, — indiflTer- ent which he first should encounter, confident that sooner or later the full significance of the impulse that had led him upon his Quixotic journey to Mexico would be revealed. The little cloud no bigger than a man's hand had grown so great as to overshadow his earth and heavens. He rode on as in a dream. The day passed, the night came, and the party was still alone. The guide had mistaken the way. That night they encamped but a league from the village of Las Passas. Ashley slept neither better nor worse for that ; there was no voice to tell him it could be more to him or his than a score of other villages which lay in the recesses of these wild mountains. The next day he left it to the right, and set his face toward El Toro. Meanwhile the march of the troops had been as rapid as the nature of the country, broken by deep ravines and at first offering a tortuous ascent to the table-lands, would allow. To Chinita, though the slow movement of the car- 21 III i W t m m. 322 CITATA AND CHINITA. \h i(t riagc WHS irksome and irritating, and the clouds of dust tliat rose from beneath the tread of the horses obscured the sights which in their novelty delighted and filled her with exultation of a new and expanding life, the hours passed as though winged by enchantment. In the joy- ous clamor of the camp followers and the scarcely less restrained hilarity of the troops, in the tramp of the horses, the clanking of arms, there was a subtile music that aroused all the energies of her adventurous spirit, and imbued her with an animation which like a ilamo within a crj^stal vase seemed visibly to fill and surround her whole being with strength and beauty. Had the country passed over been as dull and uninter- esting as it was in fact wild and picturesque, the effect of movement and change would have been still the same to her ; for hers was a mind to be affected by the various phases of humanity rather than of inanimate nature. The landscape in truth offered to her view little of nov- elty, for in her childhood she had wandered where she list- ed, and her lithe young limbs had been as untiring as her curiosit}'. The succeeding canons and hills, the slopes and cactus-planted valleys, were but counterparts of those which she had explored on every side of the plain on which Tres Hermanos stood. With ready tact she avoided re- calling her unwatched, untended childhood to the mind of Dona Isabel, who received with a distaste which seemed of the nature of regretful shame any allusion to the life from which the girl who now called her Tia (aunt) had been rescued. The use of this appellation had been brought about by Ruiz, in his evident uncertainty as to how the apparent relationship between his patroness and her protegee should be defined. He had tentatively alluded to Dona Isabel as the godmother of Chinita, a designation which some con- scientious scruple led her to reject. The \vord Tia is used by Mexicans as a term of respect toward an elder as often as in actual acknowledgment of relationsiiip ; and when with some daring Chinita one day applied it to Dona Isabel, in answering some remark <)i the young captain, the lady allowed it to pass unchallenged ; and gradually " mi Tia Isabel" took the place of the formal "Senora," which hitherto had helped to keep their intercourse as reserved ds of (Inst .g obscured ;1 filled her , tlie hours In the joy- carcely less imp of the ibtile music irous spirit, like a llamc nd surround and unintor- , the effect of the same to r the various mate nature, little of nov- vhere she list- intiring as her Is, the slopes harts of those ilain on which [e avoided re- to the mind of lich seemed of 3 the life from mt) had been lUght about by the apparent )rotegee should )ona Isabel as ich some con- ^rd Tia is used elder as often ip; and when ,o Dona Isabel, ptain, the lady iially " mi Tin iefiora," which rse as reserved CHATA AMD CHimTA. 323 and cold as when Chinita still stood at the gate -at Pedro's side, and Dofia Isabel had furtively glanced at her glow- ing beauty, and felt the hand of remorse pressing upon her heart. The haughty lady felt it still ; and that it was which made her lenient to a score of faults in this young girl tliat in her own children would have been deemed almost un- pardonable. She did not admit that she loved her, — it is doubtful if she really dia, — yet she strove by all the arts of which the long repression of her nature made her capable to win the heart of the girl, who she saw with suspicious intuition beheld in her one who had \, onged her, and was even now withholding her birthright. Dona Isabel be- stowed rich presents, but never a caress ; perhaps Chinita would have spurned the last as lightly as she received the first. Ruiz, admitted to a certain intimacj' bj- the necessi- ties of the time, was impressed by the entire absence of any sense of obligation with which the young girl took her place with Dona Isabel, as if she had never known one more humble, while there was something in the cold and stately manner of Dona Isabel which seemed to shrink before the imperious force of character of her young companion. It was at their first halt that Dona Isabel had, with un- expected hospitality, sent to invite Ruiz to share their mid- day meal ; and, evidentl}' with some effort, at the same time she bade the servant extend the invitation to ti^e voung American. Ruiz presented himself with due acknowledg- ments, but Ashley was nowhere to be found : he and his servant Pepe had disappeared from the ranks. No one remembered having seen them since they ascended the face of the hill of the graveyard ; doubtless, it was surmised, the young man had grown weary, and had unceremo- niously returned to Tres Ilermanos. Dona Isabel's face clouded. Upon the next day she had hoped to part company with her unwelcome guest forever ; and now, — part of her purpose in leaving the hacienda was alreadj' frustrated. Ruiz was scarcely less disquieted ; a glance at Chinita's triumphant countenance confirmed his apprehensions. Pepe, at least, had not returned to the hacienda, he was assured. The olTicer had had it in his mind to have the servant strictly watched ; but it had not occurred to him that upon the first da}' he would attcnrpt i ti'I- i fe'! 324 CHAT A AJtD CIIINITA. t\ ^r^n( \\ hii to evade him and fulfil Chinita's wild project of summon- ing Ramirez. He inwardly cursed his own folly and the duplicity of Ashley, whom he hitherto had not for a moment supposed in sympathy with the plot. He and the 3'oung American had even laughed at it together as' the foolish dream of an imaginative girl. Now to the suspicious officer's apprehensions was added a burning jealousy. For Chinita's sake the American had doubtless made her cause his own ; and with sucli an ally, Ruiz reflected, it was not impossible that he might see himself confronted by the man who he knew well never forgave a slight, never left unrcvenged an injury. The manner of Ruiz was so grave and abstracted that day, that Dofia Isabel was inclined to credit him with far more depth and earnestness than as the reputed suitor of Rosnrio, or the air}'^ and flippant recreant follower of the notorious Ramirez, she had attributed to him. Ruiz had the art o. ' ^voluntarily suiting his demeanor and conver- sation to those in whose company he was thrown. There was no conscious hypocrisy in this, for the desire to please was natural to him, and often served him in good stead in the absence of genuine feeling, and even under the sting of wounded self-love held him silent, and masked his re- sentment. Manv a time in his life-long intercourse with Ramirez had he chafed under the General's hanght}' patron- age and made no sign ; and it was onl}' when he found himself thwarted in wliat was for the moment his strongest passion, that ho began to question the designs of the chief- tain to whom he owed all the fortune which birth or talents combine to make possible to other men. Ruiz was the son of Tio Reyes, a life-long follower of Ramirez, for whom the chieftain had been sponsor, and to- ward whom he had with minute conscientiousness directed every worldly advantage which his means and position ren- dered possible. To Ramirez, Ruiz — who was known by the name of his mother (a not uncommon custom where her family renders the cognomen more honorable than that of the father) — owed the chance which had made him a soldier of fortune instead of a laborer in the village where his brothers and sisters plodded and toiled, in absolute igno- rance of the father who had forsaken them. Ruiz's knowledge of this strengthened his resolution to lilliiiltl; CHATA AND CniNITA. 325 »f summon- i folly and ad not for t. He and together as' ^ow to the I a burning; ad doubtlcsH 1 ally, Kuiz see himself cr forgave a stracted that him with far ited suitor of llowcr of the 1. Ruiz had ■ and conver- rovvn. There sire to please good stead in ider the sting laskcd his rc- crcourse with lughty patron- hen he found t his strongest is of the chief- rhich birth or en. ig follower of )onsor, and to- isness directed d position ren- was known by 3tom where her )le than that of Ic him a soldier age where his absolute igno- is resolution to ignore the past, and suffer no ill-timed revelations to in- turfoi'e with his determination to win at one stci) love and fortune by gaining the hand of Uie protetji'e of Dona Jsabul, — a purpose he was certain IJamirez would op[)()sc!, for in a moment of confidence the General had intirated that it was to a daugliter of his own, in accordai; 'u with a l)romise made long years before to Ueyes, thai the young man was to be united ; it was for this destiny his future had been shaped, his fortunes moulded. At any previous time the ambition of lluiz would have been fully satisfied ; his whole desire would have been to meet this promised bride, and by his marriage strengthen the interest which the caprice or atfection of Ramirez alone caused to be centred upon him, and which, though often burdensome and tyrannous, was apparently the 3'our.g man's sole passport to success. Even when in pique and half-timorous defiance he took advantage of his separation from Ramirez to follow Rosario to Tres Ilnrmanos, it was with no fixed resolution to tempt fortune alone. His short- lived passion and his independence and anger would have died together, had not his love for Chinita and the unex- pected opportunities thrust upon him opened before him a l)rospect of advancement and triumph far above his wildest dreams, and completed his treason to his early patron, without teaching him the lesson of truth either to the new cause or to the mistress to which he was sworn. In the eyes of Dona Isabel Ruiz was but the hireling whose faith was purchased for Gonzales ; in those of Chi- nita, the devoted follower of Ramirez ; in his own — well, time and circumstance would decide. ]Jke thousands of others who took part in the strife that rent and decimated Mexico, Ruiz had but little conception of the points at issue. He had simply followed the lead of chc popular chieftain to whom clrcumstaiKics had at- tached him. He had learned bv observation that wealth flowed from the coffers of the clergy into the hands of Ramirez, who scattered it lavishly to all about him, — dissipating the greater part in luxurious living in cities, and the maintcnanco of iiordos of A/llowers in towns and cafions of the mountains, and with ready superstition re- turning much to the source whence it came, for never a follower of his kept child uuchristened or burial Mass 326 CIIATA AND CUINITA. m Mir-: i % unsaid for want of means to purchase the services of a priest. Ramirez had appeared to the young imagination of Ruiz absolute and ubiquitous. Tliere were few daring deeds done that he had not shared in ; scarce a town been seized and its merchants arrested until the forced loans demanded from them were paid, scarce a train of wagons laden with silver stopped, scarce ^ pronuiiciamleitto with its excite- ment and rapid exchange of power and property eflected, that ho had taken no part in. He had been found wherever fighting or plunder were. He had taken a bloody part in the repulse of the Liberals at the City of Mexico, where the names of Zuloaga the President and of Miramon alike were made infamous. He had shai'cd in the futile attacks upon Vera Cruz, where Juarez at the h(;ad of the Provi- sional Government maintained with stubborn tenacity, with a handful of followers, the most important stronghold upon the seaboard, promulgating those unprecedented reso- lutions and decrees which revealed to the minds of the people that of which they had never hitherto dreamed, — namely, the separation of Church and State ; the suppres- sion of the monasteries, which like vampires had for generations drained the resources and absorbed the in- tellect of the people ; and the secularization of those im- mense treasures which, donated by the faithful to feed the hungrj'^ and the sick, train the orphans, maintain the glory and worship of God, had become the means of oppression and bloodshed, and were the thews and sinews of the civil war, in which the clerg}' strove to maintain the abuses of the past and forge fresh chains for the future. In a country where the dogmas of Catholicism were as the oracles of God, where every heart was bound either by the truths or the superstitions of Rome, or in most cases by both inseparably, the magnitude of the task assumed by tlio astute and resolute Juarez was almost beyond the comprehension of those bred in the lands which have never groaned beneath the yoke of ecclesiastical t3'ranny. Au}'^ premature act, any unguarded word, might become the cause of offence ; and yet it was no time for hesitation or timorous questioning. Juarez knew the time and the temper of his country- men ; and environed though he was, virtually imprisoned CHATA AND CIIINITA. 327 irviccs of a tion of Ruiz living deeds been seized IS demanded 3 laden with 1 its excite- rty ctl'ected, nd wherever oody part in 3xico, where iranion ahke iitile attacks if the Trovi- >rn tenacity, it stronghold idcnted reso- minds of the dreamed, — the suppres- ires had for »rbed the in- of those im- iil to feed the tain the glory of oppression sv's of the civil the abuses of icism were as bound either B, or in most 3 of the task ;z was almost le lands which ecclesiastical d word, might as no time for )f his country- Uy imprisoned in one small town upon the seashore, his influence reached to the most remote districts of the int(jrior. And although the armies of the clergy swept the country from sea to sea, in obscure fastnesses rose daring bands in tens and twen- ties and hundreds, who promulgating the new promises of liberty sent forth b}' Juarez, maintained them with a tena- city of purpose that made defeat impossible. Worsted in one quarter, they arose in another, employing with unscru- pulous daring every means that cunning or audacity could bring within their power, — claiming the excuse of necessity for those acts of rapine and cruelty in the satisfaction of personal enmities, the warfare upon the women and chil- dren, and the thousand barbarous deeds which make the history of that time a continual record of horrors. Had example been necessary, they would have found it in the career of the opposing forces ; but in truth it was a time when the attributes of patriot and plunderer, soldier and bandit, became inextricably confused ; so that, perhaps as completely to himself as to others, the average actor in that bloody drama became a ballHng and unsatisfying enigma. Such was the mental condition of Ruiz, though it did not occur to him to define it. Attached to the clerical party by long association, and by the uninterrupted pros- perity which he had shared with Ramirez, — who since separating himself from Gonzales had followed an inde- pendent career, in which he had found the highest bidders for his services among the crafty leaders of the old regime (who to their rich gifts added the indulgences of the Church, to which no soul however blood-stained and con- scienceless could remain indifferent), — when Ruiz declared himself to Don Rafael a convert to the Liberal cause, it was but as a precautionarj' measure recommended b3^ Dona Rita ; and it was only when he saw in Dona Isabel a patroness more powerful than the one he had abandoned, added to his resolution to make himself independent of the man who had hitherto controlled as well as defended him, that he in reality inclined to the faction which da}'^ by daj^ seemed gathering strcngtli, and likcl}' to become^ the dominant power. But though his political views thus shaped themselves to meet Dona Isabel's, Ruiz was no more faithful to her purposes than to those of Chiuita. To abandon Gonzales 1* 328 CHATA AND CHINITA. m ! to his fate at El Toro, — for lie did not doubt that Ramirez would return with overwht'lniing niiuibcrs to tlio destruc- tion of its insulHcient jjurrison, — and at tlie same tiniu to win tlie confidence of Dona Isabel and that of the troops under his command, thereafter seizing the first opportunity of having himself proclaimed their permanent leader and inarching to join Juarez, whose cause was becoming strengthened day by day by fresh accessions from the interior, became his tlream. Thus he hoped to blind Chinita by an apparent inability rather tlian disinclination to further her designs, mislead Dona Isabel, and secure for himself a position which should render it not absurd or incredible that he should aspire to the hand of a protegee of the Garcias, and to the dower which he shrewdly suspected he might of right demand. All these i)lan8 were not perfected in a day, and the defection of Ashley Ward and his servant seriously in- terfered in the ambitious captain's calculations ; but he allowed no trace of uneasiness to appear in those rare intervals when he found an opportunity to exchange a few words with the impatient Chinita. Unconsciously also, Dona Isabel herself aided to estab- lish a bond of confidence between them. When the long irregular column, with banners flying, driving before it the lowing cattle, whose numbers grew less after each night's slaughter, and followed by the motley line of women and children with the rude equipage of the camp, would be fairly in motion after the confusion of the early start, Ruiz would rein his prancing steed at the side of the carriage and deferentially place himself at the orders of the ladies. On these occasions his manner was one of perfect respect to both, of entire concurrence in the dictates and desires of Dona Isabel, and of half-indifferent, half-amused rejection of the immature and inconsequent conjectures and opinions of the girl, for whocse beauty he exhibited a timid but irresistible recognition, which flattered while it disarmed the suspicious mind of Dona Isabel. She be- liovod him still the ardent ndmiror of Rosnrio, — a thing which, she reflected, was under the circumstances most fortunate. In the freshness and animation of those morning hours conversation became natural and easy, and the events and en ATA AND CIIINITA. 329 at Ramirez lie aestnic- iiiie timu to the troops . - opportunity leader and s becoming IS from the cd to blind isinclination and secure ot absurd or .f a protegee he slirewdly Jay, and the seriously in- ions ; but he n those rare :change a tew Ided to estab- f hen the long ring before it ss after each line of women s camp, would le early start, e side of the c orders of the one of perfect c dictates and t, half-amused nt conjectures he exhibited a ttered while it ibel. She be- ,^io, — a thing instances most morning hours the events and names which were upon every tongue furnislied food for iibiindant reminiscence and comment. Dona Isabel was t'lo(|uent in praise of Gonzales, wlio to his success at El Toro had added others in the neighboriiood, which together with tho occupation of Guanai)ila had made the entire district the undisputed territory of Liberalism. Kuiz assented to her enthusiasm with an ardor which seemed but natural in a youth who having separated him- fielf from one powerful patron, should desire to place him- self beneath the protection of another ; and a compari- son of the two, which should explain his defection from the first, followed in natural course ; and witli carefull}' cliosGu words, whose meaning held a subtile relation to tiic thoughts and predilections of his two auditors, he spoke of the intrepid and unscrupulous Ramirez. More than once Dona Isabel, in the midst of his talk, sank back in the carriage lost in deep and painful thought, as the wild and terrible deeds in which that lawless man had figured recalled to her mind the horrors of her youth. Deeds such as these might have been planned and exe- cuted by the boy who had once been the pride, as he was afterward the bane, of her life, had he lived ; but he was dead. Yes, thank God ! though her heart had bled in- wardl}' for long years ; he had made no sign since the tale of his end came — he was dead ! While she was thus lost in thought, Chinita listened with glowing cheek and eyes. Ruiz knew of the meeting with Ramirez to which she looked back with such peculiar and unwearying fascination ; and discerning in her admira- tion of his former leader an unfailing means of rousing in her a personal attraction which in her passionate nature might become an absorbing love, he carefully refrained from giving her any hint of his real sentiments toward her hero, and spared no covert word, no mute eloquence of his dark and expressive eyes, to Increase an enthusiasm which had already led her into such strange defiance of the plans of Doiia Isabel. To reinstate her hero in the powMM' from which lie Imd fallen became Cliinita'a dream, the as[)iration of her soul. On the fifth night of their journey it chanced that they entered a village, where Dona Isabel and her servants were enabled to find u shelter, which after the restricted lit m » < ' Mlii | W V:U 330 CIIATA AND CniNITA. M. VI •A. i .'f Qri-^-H ^.^f'i: and insuinciciit ftccommodation of tents seemed absolutely luxurious, primitive and rude thou<;ii it was. Doila Isabel wearied witli travel, and depressed with anxiety at tlie unaccountable delay of Gonzales, who she had sui)poscd would have hastened to take command of the troops that licu" energy and bounty had provided, had early rctireil to the room assigned her. Chinita had reluctantly aceoin[)a- nicd her, for a fandango was in progress in the great kitchen, tlie charcoal brasiers Uaming retl against the dark walls of yellow-washed adobe, and shining upon the bronzed faces of a group of swarthy men, who strummed upon stringed instruments of various shapes and sizes ; while another group of mingled men and women went through the rliythmic motions of the dance, with which the young girl, gazing from her cell-like retreat across the court, had long been so familiar. Chinita had never danced since the night that she had fled from the wedding yjcs^a into the waiting arms of Dona Isabel. She had thought of the scene and its pleasures only with anger and disgust ; and 3'et as she looked into the red glare and watched the swaying figures, she longed to rush in and throw herself among them. To her, as to Dona Isabel, the time of suspense was growing unbear- ably long ; she was mad for action. Unreasonabl}', she felt that there among their caste she might find Pedro, l*epu, — some one who would do her bidding, who would not dare put her off as Ruiz was doing with tantalizing promises. Chinita knew that instead of following the most direct paths as Dona Isabel had commanded, the route on vari- ous pretexts had been changed, — she supposed to make communication with Ramirez possible. She had no reason to doubt the good faith of Ruiz, yet she was impatient and miserable. A straggler upon the road had given them the news that Ramirez had been seen upon the hills with a forlorn and ill-armed troop, which bore evidence of the ill fortune which the defeat at El Toro had inaugurated. She had conceived a violent and unreasonable antagonism to Gonzales, who from his whilom associate had become the successful opponent and rival of the man whom by the childish gift of an amulet she had fancied herself endow- ing with invincible good fortune. Even as she grew older, CHATA AND CIUNITA. 331 I absolutely [Joiltt laabol :iety at the ul suppoHod ; troops thtit •ly retired to tly aceomi>a- LU the great inst the dark jjr ui)OU the ^ stiuiniued 9 and tjizes; ■woiucii went nth which the sat across the t that she had arras of Doiia I its pleasures jhe looked into L«c8, she longed k. To her, as rowing unbcar- •easonably, she ht find Pedro, ing, who would with tantalizing the most direct B route on vari- ^iposed to make fe had no reason \% impatient and I given them tlic [the hills with a ividence of the iiad inaugurated, [able antagonism ate had become Ian whom by the fd herself endow- sUe grew older, her faitli in the magic powers of a cliarin wliich had been tlie creation of a wizard, and liad been blessed by Holy Church, scarcely grew less ; and the remembrance of it uudoubtedly strengthened the fealty so :,Lrangely sworn. Itesides, a purpose had arisen in lier mind of u[)i>ealing to Uamire/ to establish her position in tlu^ house of Garcia, by wresting from Dofia Isabel an acknowledgment which would give her rights and a certain status (though clouded it might be) where now she was but the recipient of favors, — the peasant born raised to a dignity which was a mere scoff and jest to the ready wit of the sarcastic and epigrammatic rancheros. Chinita knew them well. Were not their gifts and prejudices her own? Musing thus, the girl glanced from the barred window where siie stood back through the gloom of the apartment to the bed where Dona Isabel was lying, — already' asleei). The yellow light of a candle just touched the lady's pale lace ; it was contracted with that habitual expression of pain which the darkness of night pcrmitUid to the proud and sutlering woman, but which in the day, or under the eye of even the most unobservant, she banished resolutely, though its shadow rested ever uncomprehended, unpitied. There was something in the lassitude of Dona Isabel's figure, the hopeless grief upon the countenance, which for the first time suggested to Chinita the possibiliiy that emotions deeper than that pride of birth which was as great in degree in herself, though neither as pure in prin- ciple nor bounded b}' the conventionalities of caste, had actua^^ed the deeds and embittered the life of her who to the "ye had been so absolute, so unassailable. With a feeling of awe Chinita took a step toward the sleeper, when a sound drew her glance to the court. Into the motley throng of lounging soldiers and arrieros, with their mules feeding and stamping around them, two belated travellers forced their way. It was the voice of one of them that had startled the watcher, and claimed instantl}' all her thoughts, setting her heart beating stifiingly as she sprang to the lattice and pressed her lace eagerly against the iron bars. The red light from the kitchen was augmented by the flame of a smoking torch, as a servant came forward to take the horse of the foremost rider. When he leaped vma I ',■■■'. ?,i 332 CHATA AND CHINITA. :,']'■ ■! lightly from his saddle, pushing back his broad hat, Chinita recognized the American, while a woman ran across tlie court and clasped the arm of the other as he alighted : it was Juana, the wife of Gabriel. '' Hist ! hist ! " said the man in a low voice, " no crying nor screaming. The Senor and I are here on business tliat would please your captain but little. By good fortune he is camped to-night at the outskirts of the viilage, and dare not leave his post. Tell me, Juanii, — and not a word to Gabriel when thou seest him, — where is Chinita?" Before Juana could gather her wits to reply, a hand was thrust through the bars almost at the speaker's shoulder ; but it was Ashley who first saw it. He took it for an instant in his own, and bent over it. "I must speak with you, Cliinita," he said; "join me in the corridor as soon as the house is quiet. I have much to say." It was not the voice of a lover that spoke, but it thrilled her as that of a prophet. " Speak low," she answered, breathlessly, " Dona Isabel sleeps close by ; but I will escape, — yes, I will come to you. Is not Juana with 3'ou? Slie must take my place here. The door is locked ; the key is in the hand of Doiia Isabel. But I will have it, trust me ; the Senora sleeps heavily." The'girl's face glowed with excitement ; she was ready for any adventure, the more daring the more welcome. Ashley Ward looked at her with a strange pride and ad- miration : this was a nature that no shame could crush, no outward fate dismay ! Chinita, standing at the grating, feeling an almost unre- strainable desire to burst into wild laughter and tears, was for some time utterly silent, waiting the hour when, the re- velry over, sleep would fall upon the house. Ashley drew into the shade of the corridor. Tlie inn was but a caravan- sary ; there was none to notice who came or went. In the laughing, chattering crowd he was virtually alone. The thoughts that came to him as the fires faded, as the noisy revellers strolled one by one to their sleeping-places, and the pale light of the stfirs shining down upon that strange scene showed Pepo wrapped in his blanket, standing sen- tinel at liis side, were indescribable. A phantasmagoria seemed to glide before him, in which Mary, his cousin, CHATA AND CHINITA. 333 jr, a hand was er's shoulder ; ook it for an [ must speak lie corridor as the ordinary places, scenes, and associates of his youth, Ramirez, Chata, all the strange actors in this drama, in new and ill-comprehended scenes, passed by ; and in the midst the door of a chamber cautiously opened, and the girl of the siren face, which the very voice of fate had seemed to bid him seek in this far land, stepped eagerly and lightly forth to meet him. ana with you ? s locked; the will have it, M\ i : m m I It* XXXV. In an angle of the corridor, where from sunrise to sunset a woman usually sat, selling cigarettes and small glasses of chia to the passers-by, stood a low banquitOy which was in fact only a superfluous adobe jutting out from the massive wall. Ashley withdrew his foot from this rude stool and greeted Chinita ceremoniously, and yet with an air of protecting authority, inviting her by a ges- ture to be seated, saying, " So you will be less likely to be seen by anj' chance comer. But from necessity, I would not have asked you to speak to me here." The girl looked at him with a little quiver of laughter rip- pling her mouth, though her eyes were anxious. Evi- dently she was troubled with no sense of impropriety, and the thought of having eluded Doiia Isabel diverted her. Instead of obeying Ashley's invitation, she darted to Pepo's side, caught a fold of his blanket in her hand, and drew it from his half-covered face. "Ah, Pepito, and is it thou?" she cried breathlessly. *' What news dost thou bring me? Hast thou then seen my godfather, and what does he say of the Senor General? Does he not think the plan a good one ? " Pepe shuffled uneasily to regain possession of the blan- ket, answering pettishly and in a stifled voice, " Is the servant to talk when the master stands by with the words ready? Go now, Chinita, you knew better than that when Florencia used to pull your ears for a saucy one ! " The girl pouted, turning to Ashley with a lowering face. She felt instinctively that what had been to her a matter of simple expedienc}^, a means of securing the for- tunes of a man who was in her imagination all that was noble and great, might have a meaner aspect to this stranger, who would perhaps think she had meant harm to Dona Isabel. Why had Pci)e dragged this American into the matter at all? Idiot! Ruiz had said nothing but ■'H', CHATA AND CHINITA. 335 sunrise to ;s and small iw hanquito^ J jutting out Dot from this ly, and yet tier by a ges- less likely to necessity, I e." f laughter rip- ixious. Kvi- )ropriety, and diverted her. he darted to icr hand, and breathlessly, hou then seen enor General? ti of the blan- oice, " Is the vith the words ter than that laucy one ! " th a lowering been to her a curing the for- n all that was ispect to this d meant harm this American d nothing but evil would come of it ; and hero was the stranger standing so straight and silent to be questioned, — and looking at her, too, with a sort of pity in the curious gaze he turned upon her. She felt half inclined to turn back to the room whence she had come ; yet she said somewhat mockingly, "It is you, Senor, who must speak, though it was the servant I sent on my errand ; but perhaps you have seen Pedro and asked him my questions ? " "You had better sit down, Chinita," answered Ashley, severely. ' ' I should not be here to-night if it were not to tell you'things hard for you to listen to, and only to learn of matters of life or death should you have consented to come. Heavens ! what a strange perversity of fate that you of all others should be anxious for the welfare, infatu- ated with the character, of — Ramirez ! " He spoke the name as though it were a curse, and the ready flame leaped into Chinita's ej-es ard cheek. " Ah, then," she said, in a low but intense and pene- trating tone, "3'ou have come to tell me, like the others, that he is a brigand and a wretch ! It is false ! He is too brave, too daring, too noble for such cowardly spirits as 3'ours to understand ! Pepe, thou wert a craven. Stupid, it was Pedro I bade thee go to, not to this pale American, who has lost all his blood through a single wound ! " Ashley smiled faintly, vexed to find himself stung by a girl's unreasoning passion, but interposed quietly, " We lose time, Seiiorita, which is prudent neither for you nor for me. I beg you will listen to what I have to say. You will agree with me then that this is no hour to talk of m}' courage or the lack of it." He had stepped between her and Pepd, to whom with a strange perversit}' she turned as if to show her dis- dain for the foreigner, whose every word had a tone of reproach. A mere suggestion that the proprieties which Dofia Feliz and Dona Isabel had attempted to graft upon the rude stalk of her untrained, unguarded childhood had some other meaning than an elder's caprices, touched Chi- nita's mind : a young man could know nothing of woman's freaks ond prejudices ; she felt the hot blood rising to her check as she encountered his quiet gaze. All at once the court and corridor seemed to l)ccomc wonderfully dark ■ i iM i sBEiaMaieia 1;ii i..$ ir;^ I *^ :ili 336 CHATA AND CHINITA. and still. A alight shudder ran through her frame ; she drew back from the American and sat down where he had directed her, drawing her reboso close around ber. " Senor," 'le said, quite humbly, "I am Ustening." Ashley did . ot speak at once, though Pep<' seemed to urge him to do so by a motion of the head, which betokened readiness to confirm his speech ; and when he began, it was at point entirely unexpected by either listener. " Seiiorita," he said, "is it not true that when you think of an American, you ave in your mind a pale-faced, mysterious, unresisting youth, gliding spectre-like about the hacienda walls, tempting by a love-song the bloody steel of some dark and daring desperado ? In a word, is it not the vision — distorted, insufticient, faint — of my mur- dered cousin, John Ashley, that comes before you?" The young girl started. "Yes! yes!" she said hur- riedly, not knowing wliat she said. "At least, once I thought like that. I had not seen an American then ; I did not know — " " And the first American you have known has had the benefit of the preconception," interrupted Ashley, grimly. " Well, it is something to know the secret of a contemp- tuous indifference which has always been so frankly ex- pressed." This comment was in English, and though Chi- nita watched tlie motion of his lips, tlieir silence could not have given her better opportunity to recover her confused and startled thoughts. " Then it is true," she said. " You arc of the family of the poor American, who was killed like a rabbit by a hawk. Why, they say that he could not have even clapped his hand on his belt, though a man from very instinct would draw a knife on his enemy, even in his last gasp. Is it not so, Pepito? I used to tell Chata that, when she would shed her soft tears of pity for him. Well, I could not cry, but I have watched at the mesquite-tree for the coming of his ghost a thousand times ; yet I never saw it, — and it was I who found his grave." " And it was you who bade Pepe show it me," inter- rupted Ashley; "and perhaps not as a mere jest as he thought." She nodded, looking up at him vaguely and kcenl}'. " You thought perhaps I had come these many miles from my own country to fitid it? " he added. " Well, C II ATA AND CIIINITA. 337 frame; she here be bad her. itening." einedtourge 3b betokened he began, it istener. Lat wbcn you , a pale-faced, tre-Ukc about ig the bloody n a word, is it — of my mur- ■e you r she said bur- i least, once I ericanthen; 1 wn bas had the Ashley, grimly. 1 of a contemp- 80 frankly cx- md thougb Cbi- llcnce could not erbcr confused of the family of . a rabbit by a not bave even yy^an from very even in bis last [tell Cbata that, for him. Well, le mesquite-trec Id times; yet i lis grave." )W it me," inter- mere jest as be lim vaguely and icome these many Udded. "Well, that was scarcely so ; it had not presented itself to me as possible that the obscure grave of a murdered foreigner should be remembered still, and that his name should bo found above it. No, I came for proofs of John Ashley's life, not of his death. It was not even to trace his mur- derer or to avenge him that I came." She looked incredulous. " Why then should you come?" she asked. "Had you a vow? If I had known and loved the dead man, it would have been to kill the man who struck him in secret that I would have come. But it is as Captain Ruiz says, — the blood of an Amer- ican runs so slowly it cools his heart, while oijrs is a burning torrent that causi'S the soul to leap and the hand to smite at a word." Ashley realized that impatient contempt of him was struggling with a feeUng to which, with sudden apprehen- sion of its importance, she dared not give utterance ; or perhaps the idea that had long been shaping itself was for the moment obscured, but yet in the darkness and confusion was growing to an overwhelming certainty in her mind. Chinita had risen to her feet, but suddenl}' she sat down, covering her face with a hand which Ashley saw in the dim light shook with suppressed excitement. Her attitude was that of a listener ; and in a low voice he told her of his boyhood, of the daj's when he had come in from school and stood at the shoulder of his grown cousin, — the young man with the silky shadow just dark- ening his upper lip, and with the clear frank eyes of a bo}', who looked so eagerl}^ forward into the active life of manhood, restive under the restraints and cautions that hampered him, until at last he broke away, and was no more seen, nor scarcely heard of, until the news of his early and violent death came to cast an unending gloom over the household, which before had been captious, fore- boding, but ever loving, ever secretly proud of the bold, irrepressible spirit it could not chain to its standard of decorum, or tame to walk in the narrow path of unevent- ful and passionless existence. The 3'ears of his own youth he passel lightl}' by ; there was nothing in them for comment until he came to the time of his a.mt's death, his inheritance of the fortune that should have been John Ashley's, the reading of those few letters which had given 22 fl! '1 r'/ r u 338 CHATA AND CHINTTA. \ i ■< ,! -I*' ^ P-i^ to Mary Ashley such strange dreams, and which in the re-reading had filled his mind with thoughts of the same possibilities that racked her own. He 8i)oke of them briefly in a single sentence : " We found by his letters that he believed himself married ; it was to find the woman he had loved, or any trace of her, that 1 came." Chinita sat so still one might have doubted if she heard ; but that very stillness convinced Asiiley that she listened with an absorbing interest, too great for ques- tioning. She could but wait breatlilessly for what was to come. "After long and vexatious wanderings I was taken wounded to Tres Hermanos," continued the 3'oung man. "There, when my hope was almost exhausted, I heard the name that had been in my mind so long, — heard it only to make inquiries which ended in confusion, and threatened to involve me in endless complications ; so at last I was glad to sullcr myself to be convinced that my conjectures were the mere vagaries of an overbur- dened fancy, a too scrupulous conscience, and to turn my face homeward, determined that thereafter I would live my life, and take in peace the goods fortune sent me. In such a mind I rode with the troop across the plain and up the desolate hillside, along which the scattered graves of the poor lay, the mounds scarce noticeable among the rocks and cacti. Pepe remembered 3'our jest- ing command ; it would give him an opportunity to with- draw from the troops unheeded. He invited me to go with him to see something that would interest me. When I saw the grave, my heart began to beat ; when I read the name upon the fallen cross, the blood rushed into my eyes and suffocated me ; every drop in m}' heart accused me I There lay my cousin murdered, and in looking for a possible claimant to his name, I had forgotten him ! I had forgotten that his death was still unatoncd for, the murderer undiscovered, unsought, unpunished." Chinita dropped her hand from her face and looked up, her eyes glowing, her lips apart, her bosom rising and falling with the quick breath that came and went. Here were words she could understand ; here was a spirit that touched her own. "And then, then, then?" she muttered; and Pepo -Ifil CIIATA AND CIJINITA 339 yhich in the of the same )ko of them y his letters to find the it 1 came." ,ubted if she 'nley that she cat for qncs- for what was I was tahen c young roan, .isted, 1 heard ncr,— heard it jonfusion, and iipUcations; so convinced that of an overbur- and to turn my 2r I would live kune sent me. vcross the plam ■h the scatterert iarce noticeable 3cred vour jcst- »vtunity to with- itcd me to go :restme. When ■vt ; when I read h rushed into my \^ licart accused d in looking f<'V \ forgotten hnu! |iU unatoncd for, ipunished." hc and looked up, Lsom rising and and went. Her^ was a spirit that bered; and Pcp6 leaned out from the wall, like a gaimt slmdow, to hear the narration, as if every word was too significant to allow a single one to escape him. "Then?" '• Then," resumed Ashley, " 1 seemed chained to the spot. 1 could not tear myself away, though reason told me that to stay there was useless ; to hasten forward and demand the truth from those 1 had hitherto shrunk from ort'euding, the only course open to me. Reason as 1 would, 1 could not force myself to leave the spot. After a time, yieldiug to necessity and to mj' command, l*epc left me. I was alone for hours with the dead. My mind was full of him ; I heard his voice ; I looked into the eyes which death had closed for so manj' unregarded years. I saw before mo that face which I had so long forgotten ; but my fancy pictured him never as in life, gay, happy, resolute, but pale, bloody, corpse-like, stretching out dead hands to me and speaking with the soundless voice of those we dream of. Who remembers the tone of a voice, silent forever? Yet it echoes in our heart; it awakens our joys, our griefs, our fears ; it is more pow- erful, more terrible, than an}' living voice. And so upon that day was the \oicc of the ilead John Ashley to me. As I listened to it, I swore never to leave Mexico until the mystery of his death, as well as that of his life, was open to me ; until I had called to account the villain who had cut him off so secretly, so vilel3\ " While I was full of the thought, and the whole world around me seemed to stretch on every side silent, void, waiting for me to choose whither I would go, in what di- rection I would set out to seek the nameless object of the new absorbing passion, which seemed more vital, more es- sential to my being than the air I breathed, I felt a pres- ence near me. I looked up, — a man was leaning over the wall. I instantl}' conjectured hc was not the mere peasant his dress indicated. A sense of mysterious connection between his life and mine seized u[)on mo ; it strength- ened as he crossed the wall and strode toward me over the sunken graves. He came as though under a spell ; I looked upon him as if under the fascination of a serpent- like gaze. I recoiled, yet for worlds I would not have turned from him. His eyes fell upon the cross ; the expres- sion of his face, the words thai, sprang from his lips, — i ^11 'ii ^1 ' $ V f 1 :=l ■pm«H it' 340 CITATA AND CmNITA. vague though they were, — sped to my brain with an clec- ric thrill. 1 knew the man before me was John Ashley's murderer." Chinitii had risen. She stretched out her hand and toueluid the hilt of the knife in Ashley's belt. It was the action of a moment, yet it was a question that the quick beating of her Iicart and the panting breath made at the instant impossible from her lips. Ashley answered it by a brief account of the combat and its interruption. As he ended, she drew a deep breath of relief. It did not occur to him that it could be for any other than him- self. It flattered and pleased him, for an instant he real- ized how deeply, as having in it something of the tender unreasoning fears of gentle womanhood. Yet the readi- ness with which she had comprehended his passion for revenge, while it justified him, had set her in a harsh and cruel aspect, which made her lithe, dark beauty forbid- ding, unrelenting, tiger-like. Yet this strange young creature, he thought, at once so foreign to him, and still so lear, concealed after all, under the surface of in- comprehensible moods and half barbaric customs, those attributes of gentleness, those instincts of justness, which amidst the perplexing differences of national manners and standards of good and evil may be distinguished and understood by every mind. At that moment Ashley felt her to be less an alien than he had ever been able before to consider her. She was not oniy beautiful, be- witching, but in part, at least, comprehensible. Chinita stood silent for many moments ; she had not even started when he spoke the name Ramirez. The per- sonality of the man of whom he had spoken had been a foregone conclusion in her mind. "It was the amulet I gave him that saved him," she said simpl}-^ ; and Ashley stared at her blankl}', not com- prehending the meaning of her words, but only that the relief she had experienced had been rather for the aggres- sor than for him. Had he then been mistaken? Was she an entire stranger to the thought which so permeated his own mind that he had imagined it must be present in hers? " Yes, the amulet that I gave him must have all the vir- tues Pedro told me of," she said musingly. *' So it was CIIATA AND CHINITA. 341 vith an clcc- ,Un Ashley's ;r hand and \ It was the lat the quiek V made at the iswcrcd it hy )tion. relief. It did iicr than him- istant he rcal- of the tender Yet the readi- is passion for in a harsh and beauty forbid- strange young a to him, and i surface of in- customs, those instness, which tional manners e distinguished moment Ashley ever been able iy beautiful, be- fible. , . Is ; she had not lirez. Theper- >kcn had been a saved him," she knkly, not cora- lut onlv that the Ir for the aggrcs- tiistaken? Wa^ lich so permeated ast be present m have all the vir- rly. *' So it was the General Ramirez who killed the American? Uios mio I he must have had good cause ; yet it angers me. Ah ! it is well I have time to think what cause he must have had ! " " Cause !" ejaculated Ashley, ** cause ! " The girl nodded her head in an argumentative way. In the dim light Ashley could read tlie struggle in lier mind, — indignation at the deed, dismay at its consequences, battling with attempted justification of the perpetrator. " B}' my patron saint!" she exclaimed at length, "it was the woman who was to blame. Wh> ild she torture him? He must have loved her; and what was there in the American to make her false to Kamirez? Strange she should have preferred another to him ! " " For God's sake say no more ! " cried Ashley, with actual horror in his voice. " I forgot that this tale has no deeper significance to you than any other ; that the American is to you simply an American, and Kamirez the i ^ro of your own countrymen, by whose desperate deeds your imagination is dazzled, and for whom, even in the midst of horror, 30U find excuse, admiration, justifica- tion. To you he seems but a jealous lover, taking just revenge upon a successful rival." Chinita spoke not a word, but bent her head as though his words were an accusation. Iler lace, in the dim light, was so impassive it was impossible for Ashley to conjecture what was passing in her mind. Did she remember that lie had said he had come to seek a child, and was it possi- ble that the mystery of her own birth had not suggested to her that she might have an interest in the ghastl^^ deed of Ramirez far deeper than would make natural or possi- ble to her the excuse of jealousy in the perpetrator? He had learned something of the reticence and self-restraint of these people since he had come among them ; yet was it possible this young girl could suspend judgment in such a cause until her own relation to it was full}' ascertained? Were prejudice, education, sentiment, so much stronger than the voice of Nature? Did no instinct cry in her heart, denouncing this man, of whom she had made a hero, — no womanly pit}' hover over his victim? AVluit a ready apprehension she had shown of Ashley's own desire for vengeance ! Was that simply because it was the pas- li S :^1' ■-^issastmim 342 CIIATA AND ClIINITA. \m\\n f :; !•■ 11'-= 1 IIH Bion strongest in her own soul, and so gave to her re:uly excuse even for murder? Under the moonlight it seemed to him that tlie young girl's face grew hard as marble. No, she was not one to yield her faith lightly. This deed, which had tilled the mind of Chata with disma}', and intensified a thousand-fold tlie horror in wliich she held the character of the man whom slie believed it sin not to reverence and love, would in no wise shako the faith and admiration of this stronger soul, who could condone it with the thought that a woman had played the murderer fidsc. *' Yet with all this, Senor," she said at length, looking up, "if you have no more to tell me, I sec not why this should turn me against the Seiior General. For you it is different — oh, quite different ; but for me, — " She paused suddenly, and Ashley saw that the hand which hung at her side was clenched till the nails marked her flesh. Yes, the deed itself was nothing, — a trifle, at most, — but in its relation to her, how great, how terrible, it might become ! Ashlc}' was not deceived. He felt that hy a word he might fan into a resistless flame the fire that lay smouldering in that resolute heart, — a word which would be no surprise to her, which would but confirm the conviction against which, in loyalty to Ramirez, she struggled with even a certain anger against the persistent suspicion that made the legendary and unheroic figure of the American a mute denouncer, more i)owerful, more persuasive, than the liv- ing man who had revealed the author of the tragedy which through all her life had been so dark a mystery. It seemed to Ashley that she held her breath to listen to his next words ; but he could be as hard as she was herself to tliis girl, whose heart seemed incapable of feeling aught but a personal injury, or any i)assion but revenge. "Senorita," he said, "1 went back to the hacienda. ]My horse had fled ; there Avas nothing else forme to do, if 1 would find means to follow this num who had suddenly become my debtor in all the dues of outraged kinship. ]My object was to obtain money, a horse and guide, and to regain the troop as quickly as should be possible ; to denounce this murderer to Doiia Isabel, and reveal the plot against her interests which had appeared to me so Hi !|il! CI/ATA AND CIIINITA. 343 weak, so absolutely absurd, but whiuli now assumed an importance coiuuiensurate with my detestation of him wiiom it was designed to serve. IJut with I'lU'tiier thouj^ht my resolution changed. If all her agents were false, — Pedro, Kuiz, as well as you, whom 1 know to be " (Cliinita winced), — "and Pepe should be successful in inducing Pedro to play into tlie hands of Ramirez, what power could Dona Isabel employ to prevent that change of leadershi[) which it was more than probable the troops — indilferent to the cause, eager only fr*:' action and booty — would a'cccpt with acclamations? Clearly, n>y only course was to proceed to El Toro and ai-ouse the too confident Gonzales, who in incomprehensible inactivity was awaiting the promised succor, — incomprehensible if the emissaries of Dona Isabel had reached him ; for, as I knew, not one word in reply had been returned. *' I had much to ask of Dona Isabel Garcia, — questions which had burned upon my lips before ; but reflection told me I was no more readv to ask them now than I had been ; that her pride might be still as obdurate. No, there were months before me in which by gradual assault I might acquire all the knowledge I would in vain endeavor to gain b}' sudden force. I was confident that if by no stratagem or treason Itamirez ultimately could place him- self at the head of these troops, he would be found in the Held against them. I learned that he hated Gonzales as a personal, no less than a political, foe. (Gonzales then was the man for me to follow. In serving Dona Isabel against the machinations of those she had so blindly trusted, I should serve myself; keep in view the mocking fiend whose downfall 1 had sworn, and perchance satisfy my- self in regard to tlu; still importunate doubts which had led to my presence amid these strange scenes. " I had intended to leave the hacienda upon the very night of my return, but on m^' way — AVell, that is noth- ing to the purpose ; I reached it exhausted. But the early morning found me in the saddle. ^ly strength re- vived with every step toward El Toro. Once we caught sight of the long line of the hacienda troop crossing the 0|jcn plain. We had passed through canons and byways, and were far in advance of them. More than once in the mountains we heard the name of Ramirez, and made wide h L i 1; ! li ^m 344 CIIATA AND CIIINITA. detours of hamlt'ts where men were gathering in twos and threes and sixes, — ragged, unkempt, unarmed for the most part, but full of enthusiasm in their leader, and conll- dent of booty and glory. Without doubt, the reverse of Kauiirez at El Tore would not remain unavenged. I real- ized the spell of that potent name, the very eelio of which seemed to be as eloquent as the living voice of most men, cliiellains and leaders though they might be." Chinita's eyes glistened ; she raised herself with a proud gesture, as if the involuntary tribute to the genius of the adventurer was a personal eommendatioif. " Though we avoided the villages," continued Ashle}', " I did not hesitate to question the few passengers we met upon the roads. These were chie(l3' wandering traders, stooping under their burdens of cla3'-ware or charcoal, ad- herents of no particular party, and reticent or the opposite, as their natural impulses or the supposed necessities of the time prompted. These I plied in vain for news of Pedro, of Pepe, or even of the noted Ramirez himself. Each and every one seemed to have passed, and left not even a mem- ory behind ; though from these vcrj' ranchos and hamlets I knew Dona Isabel's troops had been drawn, and that the followers of Ramirez were daily drawing more, — forcing those they could not persuade, laughing at the protestations of the women, and feeding the adventurous ardor of the men with talcs of daring exploits and promises of plunder. All this we heard, and knew the whole country was in a fer- ment, yet passed through it undetected, on our own part unable to catch a glimpse or hear a word of the covert from which Ramirez directed and inspired the movement. Travelling rapidly, we entered upon the third day a deep gorge, which cut the foothills of the ver}' mountain that overshadowed the towers of the convent town toward which I was journeying. Still a painful stretch of twelve hours, of an almost pathless labyrinth of rock and sand, I was told, lay before us ; and early in the evi ing I ordered a halt, intending to set forth before the day broke. One of my servants spoke of a spring which he knew of; and though the season was so dry that we had little hope of discovering it, we decided to push on, although at every step the horses seemed to protest against the effort, — for they hud been ridden mercilessly, without change and C/fATA AMD CniNITA. 345 ig in twos Luctl lor tho •, ami con 11- rcversc of cd. 1 rcal- iio of wUieli f most men, ivith a proud ;cnius of tUo lued Ashley, jgers we met ling traders, charcoal, ad- thc opposite, cssities of tho iws of Pedro, If. Each and t even a niem- and hamlets I and that the M-e, — forcing protestations or of the men jlunder. All was in a fer- our own part of the covert ic movement, rd day a deep mountain that I toward which twelve hours, _l sand, I was ng I ordered a >wkc. One of knew of; and . little hope of ough at every le crtbrt, — for it change and 1 I almost without food or rest. As we neared the spot whero we hoped to Ihul water, tho aspect of the country seemed to grow even more forbidding. '' ' Tiie dry season has swallowed it,' said tho servant dejectedly, after a careful survey of the locality. * There is nothing here but sand, — a dry welcome for our thirsty beasts ; ' and at a signal from me he threw himself from tho saddle, and tethering his panting horse, clambered up the gorge t«) gather a handful of dry grease-wood with which to light a (ire. Meanwhile, his fellow busied himself in unpacking the few articles we had brought, and 1 threw myself on the ground against a rock, feeling myself more secure in that wild and secluded pass than I had dene since I left the hacienda. '* The place was very still. Although it was yet day- light in the world without, the whole gorge was in shadow. The crackling of the herbage under the horses' feet, or a low word occasionally spoken by the men, was all that broke the stillness. 1 suj^pose from thought I was gradu- ally falling into slumber, when the sound of horses gallop- ing, of men laughing and shouting, broke upon the air. I started to my feet and seized m^' arms, calling for tho men ; but they had disappeared ; the three horses were rearing and plunging. 1 caught and succeeded in mount- ing my own ; but as the cavalcade drew near, I realized that its members were so numerous and in such mad humor that it would be worse than folly for mo to approach them. One pf m}-^ men had recovered from his panic, and stole up to me with blanched face and wide-staring eyes. I pointed to the horses, and with wonderful dexterity ho bounded into the saddle of one, and caught the bridle of the other. In as little time as it takes me to tell it, we gained the shelter of the rock. Calmed by a few low words, the horses stood motionless, and from our covert we saw the company of lawless soldiery go b}-. " Ramirez was at their head ; and by a cord at his bridle- rein was tied a man, who vainly strove to keep pace with tho gallop of his horse. At almost every step he fell, and was struck by the hoofs of the foremost horses, whose riders leaning down brought him again to his feet with blows from the Hat sides of their swords. Tliere wore perhaps thirty rulliaus engaged in this brutal sport ; aad after them ran 1? 0, H . 346 CHATA AND CHINITA. ,s*. Iff',: >■" ■■) f i li a man at such a pace as only an Indian could maintain, even for moments, wringing his hands and praying and crying, — alternately' a prayer and a cuise. And in him, more by his voice, gasping and hoarse thougt^it was, than by sight, I recognized Pepe Ortiz." Chinita would have screamed, but the ready hand of the peasant closed over her mouth. " The man ! the man tied to the horse's rein ! " she gasped, when he released her. " I could not see his face, and he had no breath to cry out," said Ashley. " They passed so closely, 1 could have shot Ramirez like a dog. But I seemed paralyzed by horror. It did for me what perhaps a moment's reflection would have done had I been capable of it, — it saved me from suicide. To have moved then would have been cer- tain death. I could not comprehend the mad jests of those around the victim ; but a moment after they passed I heard a sound which to all ears conveys the same meaning, — a pistol shot, — and the voice of Ramirez crying, — " ' Carambal the next fall would have killed him, and the dog should die only by my hand. There ! I have paid the debt 1 owed thee, — thou knowest for what. It should have been paid thee like the other villain's 3'ears ago. Would that I had dragged him at my horse's rein as I have thee ! ' " The man fell ; a soldier, with a laugh, cut the rope ; nil swept on with shouts and laughter, — Ramirez the ([uietcst among them. In a few minutes they were far up the gorge. One glance had satisfied Ramirez that his shot had reached its aim. "■ None seemed to remember the panting wretch behind. I had reached the prostrate body as soon as he, and together we raised it up. Under the mask of bruises and blood and the dust of the roadway, I recognized the man I had been seeking, — Podro Gomez." IVpu caught Chinita on his outstretched arm, — she had staggered as though struck by a heavy blow. Ashley s[)rang to her side in remorse, — ho had spared her noth- ing in the recital ; but she had not fainted. She raised herself slowly, and lifting her arms above her head, wrung her hands in speechless agony. The man who had been murdered years before had boon a shadow, a myth, in her mind. Ue became at that su- CHATA AND CHINITA. 3-47 prcmc moment a living presence, joining with, blent with, the martyred Pedro in denunciation of the man whom she had raised in her admiration to a pinnacle of glorj-. The idol of*years crashed to the earth, in semblance of a demon, — and with it fell the stoicism and pride that had encased as in bands of steel the softer emotions of her nature. "Murdered! murdered both!" she moaned at length. " Was it not enough he should bereave me even before I came into the world, but that he should so vilely slay the only creature who has loved me ? Oh, my God ! " she added, shuddering, " why have I been so cursed as to have given one thought to such a wretch ? Oh 1 forgive, forgive, forgive ! " I % if 1. 9..: m l^- XXXVI. To whom was that vain cry addressed ? Ashley ques- tioned not, but clasping in his the icy hands which strove to smite and beat each other, spoke such words of soothing as came readiest in the stranger tongue he found so inade- quate. He reaUzed that it was not to him Chinita directed that wail of self-abasement and remorse ; and he also ap- prehended somewhat of the wild joy that would have been his, had she involuntarily turned to him in the anguish of her desolation. But she was scarcely conscious of his pre- sence, and in her frenzy — terrible to witness, though it was not loud — even Pepe's rough accents were unheeded. " JV'ina of my soul ! " he said earnestly, " Pedro is not dead. No, it is not a lie I tell thee ! Who would lie to thee in such an hour as this ? I have come to tell thee that he lives ; 't was he himself who sent me." "He himself!" she echoed at last, turning her wild, tearless e3'es upon Pepe's face. " Ah, it is because thou art here that I know he is dead, else thou wouldst not dare to leave him ! " " And by my faith, it is not of my o'vn will I am here ! " answered Pepe, bluntly. " Seiior Don 'Guardo, you can tell her that." " I can in truth," replied Ashley, who seeing that the peasant's words were received by hef but as mere attempts to defer the evil moment when the inevitable assurance of the death of her foster-father must be given her, — so well did she know the customs and manners of her coun- try people, ever prone to useless prevarication, even in their deepest sorrow, — hastened to describe to her tlie few scant means they had found in his extremitj' to re- call the exhausted Pedro to the life that had apparently been thrust and beaten and driven from him forever. The ball of the pistol had but grazed the cheek of the tortured man ; the blood and dust hud deceived the ac- CHATA AND CHINTTA. 349 ciistomod oj'cs of Ramirez, as it had deceived their own. The greater danger arose from the frightful condition of laceration and fatigue to which the mad race through the ston}' canon had reduced him. In a few words Pepe told the tale. He and Pedro had met but the da}' before, and it was while hastening to 1^1 Toro to apprize Gonzales of the plot that Pepe, in the petition of Chinita, had revealed to the indignant Pedro, that they had encountered face to face the irate chieftain and his followers. Pepe understood little of the cause that led to their being seized, dragged from their horses, and threatened with instant death. Both aHke protested innocence of any scheme to baffle or injure the mountain chieftain ; but he understood too well the ease with which a foe too weak to fight could assume the aspect of a friend. At the worst, however, Pepe imagined they might be forced to turn back on their way to spend a few unwilling hours among the bandit followers, until chance should give them opportunity to escape. But Ramirez's memory was keen as it was vengeful. Suddenly he bent and gazed searchingly into the face of the elder prisoner. *'Ah!" he exclaimed, with an oath, "I know thee! Thou art Pedro Gomez." Pedro, who till this moment had bent his head to avoid the gaze of his captors, raised it swiftly with an ejacula- tion of amazement. A red handkerchief bound the brows of Ramirez ; his face was swarthy and grimed with hard riding. "Ah, and thou knowQst me, too!" Ramirez cried. *' Thou hast called me a devil more than once in thy life- time ; and now I will prove thy word true. Hereafter thou wilt have no further chance for that, or for open- ing the gate to the man who would make mj' — " He gnashed his teeth in speechless rage, and with his sword struck the keeper across the face. The action spoke louder than words. Some one, in ready comprehension of the loader's mood, threw a lasso, and catching the prisoner across the breast began to mimic the wild shouts of a bull-fighter. But Ramirez was in no humor for pastime. "On! on!" he cried. '"Tis nearly sunset. Let us see how far on our way this fellow can accompany us lilH ^■f if^H ^^H '^''^1 H 't ^^9 ■^1 1 t^ri! ha i >;i! iJI' ! ill! ..; u W hi I ■ m 350 Cf/ATA AND CHINITA. till then ; and then by a vow I made to mj' patron San Lconidas, more than a score of years ago, he shall die, Caramha! did ever man play Ramirez false, and he forget to paj' him his dues ? " Pepc, amid the shouts and laughter of the band, heard these words \v ith a wild sense of teri'or ; but it was only when he beheld Pedro struggling at the side of the plung- ing horse, that he realized that the gate-keeper was to 1)0 dragged to his death. He had heard of Ramirez's wild jests, and imagined that this might be one, until he be- held the cortege speeding forward, urging the unhappy Pedro before them with blows and jeers, or exhibiting their wonderful horsemanship in evading his prostrate body, — which, however, more than once, as he fell, sounded under the thud of the horses' feet. Pepc could have escaped at any moment, for in the con- centration of attention upon Pedro his companion had been utterly forgotten ; but he followed madly, expostu- lating, entreating, cursing, while his breath allowed ; and then was swei)t onward in the whirl, seemingly almost unconscious, till he heard the shot that ended ths mad scene, and found himself staggering over the body of the bleeding Pedro. The sight of Ashley, as unexpected as it was reassuring, as though an angel had arisen, saved the wretched youth from utter collapse of mind and body, lint for the new excitement he would have fal'on prone, and had he ever regained consciousness it would have been to find his com- rade dead. But under the impulse of Ashley's energetic action and sustaining words, he even helped to raise the victim, in whom, lacerated though he was, Ashley soon discovered a feeble flutter of the heart. '* We took him to the shelter of the rock," said Ashlej', who had by signs hastened Pepo's conclusion of the account, which, related in his own profuse manner, was far more agonizing than the brief outline here given, " and found that his extraordinary powers of endurance, though strained to the uttermost, had stood him in wonderful stead. An arm was broken, and every muscle so wrenched and strained that when he regained his consciousness the resolute will, which during the progress of the torture had withheld him from uttering protest or groan, utterly gave patron San 10 shall die. nd he forget band, heard it was only )f the plnng- )er was to bo imircz's wild until he be- thc unhappy Dr exhibiting his prostrate as he fell, or in the con- mpanion had dly, expostu- allowcd ; and lingly almost dcd th3 mad p body of the as reassuring, etched youth t for the new had he over find his <3ora- ey's energetic d to raise the Ashley soon ' said Ashley, >f the account, was far more " and found lough strained il stead. An vrenched and ciousness the ic torture had I, utterly gave CHATA AND CHTNITA. 351 way, and he screamed in agony. Happily his persecutors were too far distant to be recalled by those unrestrainahlo cries of returning consciousness. Even while we pour('.chid for her wan cheeks and sunken ejes. But I knew ^hat no man had scorned her love, and that no liviij man had aught to answer for had she loved too well 1 had not seen her for weeks and weeks ; but one nigh' a creature so pale and wan I thought it her ghost, accosted me. Strange, strange the mission that broug her. It was to entreat my protection — that of the wonhless Pedro — for the child which in secret and in banishment she was about to bring into the world. '"Well! well! I promised all she asked. I should have done so even had I thought it possible the dire need she pleaded would be hers. Oh ! I had heard strange and fearful tales of deeds that have been wrought within the walls of these great and solitary haciendas ; but that Dona Isabel would stoop to crime, and that I should find it in my power to save a child which she would strive to sacrifice, I could not believe. Trouble, I thought, had made Herlinda mad. But she was mad only with the frenzy of a prophetess. " ' With terrible forebodings I saw her taken from her home. Day and night I thought of her, and my heart was like ice ; but one day, when worn out with watching and expectancy I sat at the gate, I fell into a doze, and in my dream heard the voice of Herlinda calling me. It changed to that of a man. I woke with a start, and a child was dropped into my hands. Strange and wonderful must have been the means by which the hunted and distracted Herlinda had evaded the motl>er «he feared ! Who had been her friends, Seiior? The wonder is with me still. I saw the face of her messenger but for a moment, 3'et it has haunted me. Yes, more than once, when I have thought of new faces that have passed before nr>(; en ATA AND CIIINITA. M* ! Tf"*'^ liji iilH ilii ! mo, I havo said, "Such an one was like the man; why ■was I blind to it when he stood before me ? " ' Pedro started up, and clasped my arm so powerfully that I shrank. ' Sefici i ' he cried, 'As God lives,] saw such a face to-day ! It was that of the man who rode behind- him they call Ramirez.' " ' lleyes ! ' I ejaculated. ' Reyes ! ' What strange sport made the messenger of Herlinda the follower of Ramirez? I — " Ashley paused, for Chinita echoed the name with an intense surprise far greater than his own. She clasped her hands to her temples, as though fearing the mad be- wilderment of her thoughts was crazing her. " Tell me no more," she said faintly. " Do I not know the unnat- ural wretch that I have been ? But what of Pedro ? Why did you leave him ? How dared you leave him ? You ! " She turned upon Pepe, accusingly'. " He lives, you say, and yet you are here ! " " No less would content him," interposed Ashley, while Pepd muttered an inarticulate remonstrance. "It was Pepe you had sent upon j'our errand ; it was Pep(5 whom Pedro would dispatch with his answer." " Ay ! " said Pepe, grumblingly, " and with 3-ou I must remain. I am sworn to that, whether you like it or loathe it." "I," said Ashley, "have ridden thus far out of the direct path I would have taken to El Toro, to warn you of the character of the man you have made your hero ; to toll 3'ou I believe you to be tiie daughter of my cousin, to offer you the home and the fortune that would have been his." He spoke unhesitatingly, yet a strange sense of be- wilderment swept over him. He was conscious that it was no fear of material loss that troubled him, though not for an instant did he dream of using the advantage of the law against this defenceless girl ; but that this strange im- pulsive creature should be of the same blood as he, as the calm and gentle Mary ; that she should come into their life with her wayward passions, her erratic genius, her weird beauty, — was a thing incomprehensible, almost terrible. Yet the blood leaped stronger in the young man's veins as he beheld her; and his heart bounded as he said, CI/ATA AND CiriNITA. 357 man; why > »' ' Pedro fully that I 1 saw such rode behiiul- ruat strango^ I follower of amc with an Hhe clasped the mad be- f. " Tell mo )W the unnat- L^edro? Why hun? You!" ives, you say, Ashley, while ce. "It was as Pep<^ whom ith you I must ou like it or I far out of the J, to warn you j,dc your hero; |i- of my cousin, lat would have le sense of hc- Inscious that it [lim, though not Hvantage of the [this strange im- lod as he, as the QC into their life lenius, her weird [almost terrible, ing man's veins led as he said. " Yes, I must go ; for I have certahi news tliat the enemy is masshig bis forces for attack. I go to warn (jlonzales ; but 1 shall return to claim you as my cousin's child. Moauvvhile, be silent — patient. Pedro prays you keep the secret of your birth, lie believes as linnly as ever that only thus can you bo safe. And for that mother's sake I pray you be silent. Kight may be won for you, and her good name be still left untainted. There may bo a mystery still to be unravelled." " 1 will bo silent ; I will wait," Chinita said in a cold, hollow voice. Ashley noticed that she had no word of sympathy for him, no recognition of the endeavors that had led to her discovery. Apparently tho thought that ho was aught to her was as far from her mind as any grief had ever been for that other American, — as far indeed as such was at that moment. For, strangely, Ashley seemed to penetrate tho inmost shrine of her thought ; and still the figures ai'ound which centred her love, her hopes, her passions wore only those of Pedro, of Ramirez, of Dona Isabel. " I will be silent," she repeated. " Ah, it will be easier now ! Yes, hasten to El Toro, bring Gonzales ; ho will be a surer, safer leader than Ruiz — though I will turn him again to my will. Yes, yes, more than once I have thought Ruiz wavering, uncertain ! Now at a word I will make him what before he has only affected to others to bo, — tho undying enemy of Ramirez ! " Ashley was silent. He would have had this girl passive, supine, womanly ; yet from the very necessity of warning her, he had been forced to arouse in her this vindictive wrath against tho man who had done her unwittingly such foul wrong. "Listen!" he said hurriedly, after a pause. "It is Pedro who implores, who commands, that until he gives you leave, nothing of what I have told you shall pass your lips. I might have had your promise before I would speak. Sec, tho stars are shining that must see me on mj' way. G ive me two promises before we part, — one that you will be silent; the other that Popr shall 1)0 contiiiuall}- within your sight or call. For this he was sent from tlie side of the suffering, perhaps dying, Pedro. He would have you safe, — safe from Ramirez." m n 358 C/TATA AND CITINITA. m i»/r \r4 m^h \ " And I will kill you before you shall fall into his handH," interposed l*ei)o, grimly. C'liinita smiled with (tyiiical bitterness, and said indiffer- ently, " I promise. Yes, 1 promise. Ah, yes, Seflor, you will see 1 have been silent when you come again. And now 1 will go back. What if the Senora Dofia Isabel siiould wake and find me missing? — the child she loves so well ! " She waved her hand, and stepped backward through the darkness. At the door of the chamber whore Dona Isabel lay, she seemed to vanish into air, so swift, so silent, was her going. Ashley gazed after her long in silence, — so long that another spectral figure stole through the doorway, and with noiseless steps reached i'ei^e's side. " The Sefiora slept like the dead," Juana whispered; "but not for a thousand hard dollars would I lie in Chinita's place again, while she forgets time in lover's chat. I wonder at thee, rep«5 ! thou hast not a man's heart in thee. 1 thought thou lovedst her thyself ! " "Fool!" said Pepu, sulkily, and turned away; while Juana, ill paid for her devotion, sought a corner of the corridor in which to sink to sleep. "Strange, incomprehensible creature!" muttered Ash- ley at length. " What emotions, what thoughts are hers? At least it is certain that the fascination of Ramirez is dissolved, — horror, hatred perhaps, has taken its place. She is safe. And now Pepe, my horse ; I must take the road. And if it be true that Juarez is at hand, even Ramirez himself may tremble ; the combined forces of Gonzales and Ruiz will hold him at ba}', and keep an open road for the intrepid Liberal to the capital "' It was scarcely two hours past midnight, thoug^li his interview with Chinita had lasted long, when Ashh^y cautiousl}' emerged from the inn, and took his waj' tOAvard the open countr}-. The troops lay at the east end of the town ; but giving the watchword to the few sentinels who challenged him, he avoided them, and soon found himself in the vast solitude of the night. He had takoti tlie pre- caution to procure a fresh horse, and for some leagues the way lay across a level country, so he made sucli speed as brought him by dawn within sight of the mountain upon CirATA AND ClIINITA. 350 fall into Ilia said inclilFor- yes, Seftor, como nguin. I Dona Isabel lild she loves (I through the L» Dona Isabel so silent, was -so long that doorway, and »' The Scnora but not for a ,'s place again, ironder at thee, je. 1 thought d away; while , corner of the muttered Ash- iights are hers? of Ramirez is akcn its place, must take the at hand, even )incd forces of , and keep an I capital rht, thouf ■ '.w ■ \ %'h ■ -tu a p:.t If 3G6 CHATA AND CHINITA. It is thou only who canst save us. What did I tell then in El Toro ? Dona Isabel has ruined us ! but for her fool- hardiness in sending aid to Gonzales all might have been well; but that has brought the wrath of Ramirez upon Rafael ! " She turned toward her prostrate mother-in-law, with something very like fury, clenching her hand and crying, " Ah ! ah ! j'our clever deception will not seem so happy a one when you wake to find it has killed 3^our son ! That is what you deserve ! You deceived even me. Do you think had I known, I would for all the favor promised me have played mother to the brat of Leon Vallo ? " The women ceased their cries to listen to this frantic outburst, which though but Greek to them, had a sound of mystery, which for the moment deadened their ears to the increasing tumult without. " Leon Valle ! " said one in an awe-struck voice, — " that was the Sefiora's wicked brother." "'Leon Vallc!" echoed Chata, a new light dawning upon her. " Maria Sanctissima, can it be?" " "What more natural? " cried Dona Rita, testily. " "Was he ever weary of extorting some proof of Dona Isabol's devotion ? But Dios mio, tliere was to be an end of her infixtuation ! Had he not killed her child ? What better chance for vengeance was she to find than to conceal, destroy, every trace of his, when with devilish mockery ho thrust it upon her? But then he miglit have known it was like thrusting the lamb into the jav/s of the wolf. On my faith, girl, it maddens me to see you standing there motionless, when it is as if the legions of Satanas himself were loose. Go ! go ! I saj*, to soothe him. En- treat him to restrain his troops. The house will be sacked. Who knows what horrors may follow ! " " I will not go to him," said Chata, slowly, a red spot Ijurning upon either cheek, her e3*es dark with horror. " If he is indeed the man 3-ou say, will he not defend the home of his sister? If I am his child, will he not claim me? If he docs, I must submit; but go to him — ]\o ! To save the hacienda — what has Doiia Isabel done for me ? To save my life — no ! " XXXVIII. V'i In the few moments during which this scene had passed, the administrador at a sign from the General had been half forced — though he made no attempt at resistance — to the lower corridor. Thence he followed his captor to a dining-room, where a servant with terrified alacrity was already bringing in cups of chocolate for the breakfast, while a woman with a tray of small loaves of sweet-bread in her hands dropped it incontinently at sight of the dreaded Ramirez. He laughed, throwing himself into a chair, and looking around him with the furtive glance with which men involuntarily regard places or persons connected with memories distasteful or horrifying. There was an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe at one end of the apartment, with a small lamp burning before it. He crossed himself, and muttered an Ave as he lc>oked at it ; then pointed to a second chair and the cups of chocolate. " It is early, Don Rafael," he said lightly, " but I have a soldier's appetite, which the fresh air has sharpened, — and you know the saying, that a stomach at rest makes an active brain ; so accompany me, I entreat, in breaking tlie morning fast, and then let us to business." And with a show of inchfTerence, which imposed far better upon his fol- lowers, who made an interested throng around the door, tlian upon Don Rafael, hv. tasted the chocolate he had drawn to his side. The administrador remained standing, though the two soldiers, who had each held an arm, roleased their grasp and stepped back. Disconcerted by the tliought that in his dishabille he could scarcely present a dignified figure , Don Rafael still maintained his composure sufficiently to refuse the profl"ercd rofreshmont with the air of a man wlio questions the right of another to play the part of host, — assuming, in fact, toward tlie intruder rather the attitude of personal than of political hostility. .,;>•> \ : I WH' m- Bi 368 CHATA AND CIUNITA, Ramirez divined this, and liis face darkened. " You know me, Don Rafael," he said in a low tone, " and that I am a man to take no denials." " Yes," answered the administrador, shortlj^ " I know you. The saints must have blinded me that I was so easily deceived upon your last visit ; but you had always the power to mask your face at will." " Bah ! ever}' man has a dozen countenances at his com- mand, if he but know how to summon them," replied Ra- mirez, carelessly, " and a touch of art to fix their coloring, and twist the eyebrows or moustache. Why, even your mother was deceived ! Where is she now ? Ah ! that woman was like Isabel herself; 1 swear she would have killed me, even when she seemed to love me most. It is the way of women, like serpents, to twine and sting at the same moment." " My mother is dying," said Don Rafael, lifting his eyes for a moment upon the face of the image of Mary. " Yet living or dying, it is not for a man to hear another speak lightly of his mother. But this is nothing to the purpose." "Nothing," replied the other, accepting the rebuke; " and I have no time to lose." He seemed to forget the chocolate, pushing the cup from him, and turning as if to rise from the chair. " Look you, Rafael, what money did Isabel leave with you? Not half her resources went in that mad freak of raising a troop for Gonzales." Perhaps Don Rafael had expected the question, for his countenance remained imperturbable. " There are horses and cattle and corn and men, still," he answered. "The administrador of Tres Hermanos can do nothing to de- fend thera ; but the money, — by Heaven and the Holy Virgin, its hiding-place is known only to him, and he will die before you ahall have another dollar to add to those which Lave cost so much blood and so man}' tears ! " Ramirez's eyes flashed ; yet the look of astonishment which he threw upon the small, half-clothed man was as full of admiration as though he had been a king clad in royal robes. But even a king would not have thwarted Ramirez with, impunity. "You ki;ow me," he reiterated in the same intonation witli wlij' h b'. had before spoken the words, allowing a CHATA AND CHINITA. 360 long, dark, intimidating gaze to rest upon the face of Don liafael. '' Yes, I know you," was the answer as before. " Yes, I know you ; and it is for that reason I have said that never a dollar belonging to the woman you have so foully wronged shall pass into your hands. Thank Heaven that she is not here to be tempted ! Thank God that while the identity of Ramirez with the bane and curse of the house of Garcia has been shaping itself in my mind, no hint of the truth has been in hers ! " " I do not believe it I " cried Ramirez, violently. " She hates me ! for the sake of that puling boy and her dotard husband she hates me still ! ' The bane of the house of Garcia,* said you. Why, what man among them has a name beyond his own door-stone but me? And the women ! Ah, ah ! What saint would have saved the fame of the women of the house of Garcia had it not been for me?" Don Rafael glanced around him warningl}-, — the room was full of strange faces, beginning to light with wonder- ing curiosity at this strange conversation, so different in substance from that usual between the guerilla and his victims. This was no place in which to talk of women ; jet Don Rafael himself desired to avoid a private inter- view with this man, while Ramirez on his part assumed an ostentatious air of having nothing to conceal, — nothing that he might be ashamed his followers should learn. Ho knew, in fact, that at that crisis, surrounded as he was by the most unscrupulous and desperate characters, the pres- tige of his mad career might be advantageously heightened rather than diminished, if he would keep his ascendency. Don Rafael read his thought, and lest in very hardihood his opponent should be led to accusations or revelations it would be impossible for him to leave unanswered, he began cue of those long and desultory conversations that, while a[)parentl3- ft'fink and unstudied, are triumphs in the art of avoiding or concealing the real subject at issue. Ramirez, well as he knew the tricks of the genuine ranchero, whether of the higher or lower grade, ^7as him- self for a time deceived, — for, with far less than his usual astuteness, he allowed himself to lapse into occa- sional denunciations, and to make demands of the admin- 24 ^ It 370 ClIATA AND CIIINITA. \a^ 1^ li < rffi ^^'11 istrador tliat increased the curiosity and interest of his \\ tenors. Tlieso did not in an}' .legrue slialvc tlie con- stancy of Don Uafacl, who, wii. Uie tliought tluit tlie crisis of ills life was approaching, cr< .,:jcd his arms upon liis breast and fortified his courage with the remembrance of the vows by wliich he iiad pledged himself, and the less heroic satisfaction that he promised himself then in tlivvart- ing tlic plans of a man whose will had been as triumphant as it was insatiable. Meanwhile, tlie tumult in the house increased. A wild rumor had spread tliat the General Jose Ramirez was by riglit the master of the place and all it contained. Some said he was the lover, others the brother, of Dona Isabel. At last, even the name by which he had been known there began to be shouted, though the sound of it was less po[)ular than that by which he had won his wa}' later to fame. Still, it gave a certain authority for license where there had been before a show of restraint ; and a speedy assault was made upon the store-rooms and granaries, and even upon the inner chambers and courts, which con- tained nothing but furniture and ornaments, — useless to soldiers on the march, or even as booty for their wives and followers. Ramirez listened to the tumult without attempting to in- terlV re. Evidently his object was to break the resolution of Sanciiez by an exhibition of the destructive and un- scrupulous character of his followers. IJut Don Rafael never winced except once, when the cry of a woman i)ierced the apartment. Ramirez heard it also. " Ah ! it came from the kitchens, from some scullery-maid," he commented after a moment. " Now, Don Rafael, you see and hear for yourself what a crew of devils I have with me, — just tlie riff'-rai!' of the mountains, whom that cursed Pedro failed to wile away from me. Caramha! never was a surprise gi-eater. It would not have happened but that like a fool 1 lingered near ¥A Toro waiting for a chance to pounce upon Gon- zal ;s. Never let a private vengeance sway the judgment," he added sententiously. " A thousand devils ! It seems as if the hacienda were tumbling about our ears ! Yet at a word I can stop it. Where is the money ? " "- If the din never ceases till I reveal that," answered n CIIA7A AND CIIINirA, 371 DonTlafticl, ilogf^cdlvi " you will never have your reveiij^o on Gonzales ; for vvlnit I have Hworn 1 have sworn. The lloeks ami herds 1 ean't defend ; and what are a fi!W hun- dred beeves or horses? IJut the money; no, l)y (iod ! if Dona Isabel herself should eonunand it, 1 would not sutler that another eoin should touch your bloody hand ! " Ramirez started up with an oath. Involuntarily ho glanced at his hand. It wou.a not have surprised him to have seen it literally red, — and, Strang sly enough, the blood gushing from the fatal wound he had (U ale the Amer- ican, just from the arms ofllerlinda, ratlu." than that of his nei)hew or Don Gregorio, was that which presented itself to his mind. He walked the room in a new and un- defmable excitement. The sight of Don liafael, to whom the destruction of the property that was precious as his life seemed as nothing to the pleasure of bailling the man he abhorred of the monc}' he believed absolutely necessary to his success in leading troops to encounter the well-rein- lb reed and well-equipi)cd Gonzales, revealed to him the hatred and horror in which he was held. Doubtless that of the servant was but a mere reflection of that of Dona Isabel. Well, let them hate him with reason ; let the wild moun- taineers tak(! their own sport unchecked. He heard one of the clerks, tlying rather than running through the corridor, exclaim that Don Rafael must come, or there would be a famine in the place before the next harvest ; that the gretit storehouses of maize had been forced open, and the con- tents scattered throughout the village for horses and men to tread under their feet ; and that the very oxen and sheep were revelling in the abundance, liable to destroy themselves b}-^ very excess, even if the soldiers should fail to drive them before them. Ramirez and the administrador glanced at each other. They had not spoken for many minutes, each feeling the other implacable, 3'et each perhaps believing that the wan- ton destruction would appeal to the other's weaker or better nature. Ramirez ^wws crimson, almost black, with inward rage, — rage as great with those who were wreaking de- struction on his sister's house, as with this insignilicant yet determined man who withstood it. Don Rafael was white as death, Iiis lips blue, his eyes strained ; again the crv of a woman scjunded on the an- ! It came from above. ^^. ^_ ^, ^. .ci.;« IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) // 1.0 I.I [f: K III t 1^ 12.0 12.5 2.2 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ■• 6" - ► V <^ /i % '% '■?■ cm ^^ 'V Photographic Sciences Corporation ^^^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 Ie of a sustained cllbrt to renew tho ambitious projects so fatally shaken, now llamed up with cruel intensity ; and yet he loved her. At that moment he would have lik(>d to throttle her, yet would have re- called her to life with words of passionate love and burn- ing kisses. As he pondered, he struck his breast with his clinched hand. " Caramha I " he muttered, " is all lost? Is there no waj' to overset this miserable favorite of the Senora? Maria Hanctissima! who is that?" His hand like a Hash passed to his pistol. " Hist I " said a voice. *' It is I, Fernando. I have not a moment to spare. I have tried to gain a way to thee for an hour or more. 1 know all that has passed. Fool ! thou shouldst havo raised the battle-cry for Ramirez be- fore this Gonzales reached thee ; there were men with theo who would have sustained thee well ! " "Bah! a man has opinions," answered Ruiz, coolly, recognizing the voice; "and if Ramirez still chooses to fight for tho priests, that is no argument for my being as mad. I tell you plainly, Father, 1 am tired of playing a boy's part ; j'ou will hear of me j'et as something moro than the lieutenant of Gonzales." "• Big words, big words," laughed Tio Reyes. " Now listen to that which I have to say to you ; " and leaning from his saddle in a few concise words he delivered tho nicsaage of Ramirez, adding a few paternal injunctions as to the conduct Ruiz should in future observe. "Up to this time nothing is lost," ho continued; "in truth had j'ou acted in good faith, no course could havo been better save this last step, — but that may easily be re- called. Ramirez will soon be prepared to attack Gonzales is i 398 CHATA AND CHINITA. 11 is I i^ I ( ! f in force ; his mind was set on regaining El Toro, but that can be deferred. ' When the loaf is cut the crumbs maj- be soon eaten ! ' Be j'ou prepared to pass over to your right- ful commander at the last moment with all your men. The rest of the troop will follow like sheep. Bah ! what is the name of Gonzales to that of Ramirez ! With the forces we could then combine, what might we not attempt! I promise you in the name of Ramirez, on his honor as a soldier and his faith as your godfather, a free pardon for all that has passed. Varamba^ man ! I can't imagine how 3'ou could have been so mad. I have seen the girl who has bewitched 3'OU, and b}' my faith I thought her nothing more than any other brown chit, save that her e^'es were darker and bigger than most, and her tongue sharper than a man cares to find between his wife's lips ! What, you hesitate ? You believe Ramirez at the bottom of a pit, and the pit dr}^ ? Fool ! He has treasure you know noth- ing of; and as for men, did the mountain villages ever fail him ? — and yon know how many may be counted on here. Caramba, try them! Tell them he has sacked Tres Hermanos." " I know it," said Ruiz, thoughtfull}^, " and doubtless the boot}' was great ! " Rej-es shrugged his shoulders but did not contradict him, reiterating again and again the assurances of the favor of Ramirez in the event of Ruiz's acceptance of his proposals, and on the contrary the chiefs determination to wreak an awful vengeance upon his god-child should he prove obdurate and attempt to carry to injurious lengths the treacherous intrigues which he had designed against his benefactor. Ruiz vehemently denied his guilt, yet hesitated to make promises which, whether kept or broken, might make still more dubious his future position. Reyes read his mind, and at length said cooll}', — " The fact is, you have been bred a servant of Ramirez. When I swore the service of my life to him, yours went with it. You are the one creature in the world he has never met with a frown or given a harsh word to ; but do you think he will spare 3'ou for that ? No ; if 3'ou should fall into his hands as a traitor, which sooner or later you would be sure to do, 3'ou would be shot ! Yes, like a dog, — " and the CHATA AND CHINITA. 399 " and doubtless the servant of Ramirez, to him, yours went e world he has never to ; but do you think I sliould fall into his >r you would be sure a dog, -"and the speaker spat on the ground to emphasize his contempt. "• liui if y^'i are reasonable he will forget all that has passed, — more than I would do in his place I can tell you ; ay, he will even give you his daughter." " His daughter ! " echoed Ruiz with a sneer. " On my soul, you must be hard to please," cried his father. " For the girl's sake I was sony enough he killed the fool of a gatekeeper five days ago. For all her proud ways, she loved him like a child, — more than she will love Ramirez though he is her father, when she hears of this mad deed." Ruiz sprung to his side. "What do you mean?" he cried, seizing his arm. " Is Chinita the daughter of Ra- mirez ? Is she with him ? Is she indeed the girl who has been promised to me for these years and years? Por Dios^ what would I not do for her? "What would I not dare? But I do not believe it. Ramirez knows I love her ; this is but a deception. Ah. I know him too well ! " Reyes laughed. " He told me if you were not satisfied you might go and see for yourself. Faith, he had no thought you loved her already. I met him on the road as he came back from leaving her. Does that surprise you ? He is a careful father ; she is in the house of the Sefiora's daughter, Doiia Carmen." Ruiz seemed stunned. Reyes saw that his point was gained, and uttered but a few words more, which elicited only the response, — " Ramirez's daugliter? Wonderful, wonderful ! And after all, she will be mine. Heavens ! how can I live a da}- longer without seeing her? Com- mend me to the 'jcrtor General. You know, my father, my heart is goo'l, though my brain may have erred ! Tell me, has she yaid but one good word for me ? She — " " Enou^u! " c'ied Re^yes, laughing the more. " I have not seen her, I tell thee ; and if thou wouldst know what she thinks, find a pretext and see her at Doiia Carmen's house. It was a strange freak of the General's to take her there, but a happy one. Thop shalt not be molested on the wa}', I promise thee. But I have no further time for talking. Adios ! thou art the only man I have ever seen whom love has brought to his right senses. It will be well if thou art as sane a vcar after the wedding ! " The two men embraced, in the fashion of the countrv. i -■^amaaaam i(* ' iW* I M « lUrii' % 1 iTIi 400 CI/ATA AND CHINITA. and with an ardor on the part of Ruiz that he seldom affected. *' Varamha! the father is a man of a thousand," he muttered to himself as lie watched him disappear, guid- ing his horse so deftly that not a sound broke the silence of the night. " Virgin of consolation ! " he continued, as he walked slowly back to his quarters. " This is like a dream. Plague upon it ! That is the fault of my father ; he is always in haste. I would have asked him a thousand questions, had he given me but a quarter of an hour. IJut it is of Chinita herself I will ask tliem. Surely she must have shown some favor toward me, or my godfather would not recommend me to her with such confidence. /Santo Nino, show me some way to make it possible to steal into Guanapila and exchange a word with her ! " The curiosity of the young man as much as his love prompted the latter aspiration. His suspicion of the iden- tity of Ramirez with the brother of Dona Isabel, the Leon Valle so long supposed dead, returned to him with force ; but he longed to know whether the secret of her birth had been conveyed to Chinita, and how her flight had been contrived. He pictured her then like a bird in a cage beating herself against the iron bars of Doiia Carmen's windows. That was not what she had hoped for when she had talked to him of Ramirez. If she had tolerated hira before, would he not now be doubly dean as one who should liberate her from the natural restraints of a maiden's life? Ruiz forgot his fancied wrongs in an intoxication of delight. Constant pondering upon the question how he should manage to evade the vigilance and suspicions of Gonzales and effect a visit to Guanapila kept him pre- occupied, yet feverishl}' alert, until the increased indisposi- tion of Dona Isabel brought about what appeared to him a special interposition in his behalf, and in pleading Cor the aid of " Our Lady of the Impossible" he promised her ia inous gratitude a candle of enormous proi)ortions. To reach a point where he might leave his generous but failing friend had become the most earnest desire of Gon- zales. But its fulfilment had seemed an impossibility, for from the time he assumed command of the troops almost hourly news had been brought to him of gatherings of CHATA AND CHINITA. 401 bUat he seldom , thousand," ho lisappcar, guid- i-oke the silence [ic continued, as ii This is like a lit of my fa^^^^'' *: \ him a thousand of an hour. But Surely she must )r my godfather such confidence. ,kc it possible to ^ with her 1 much as his love nicionoft\\eiden- a Isabel, the Leon to him with force; et of her birth had ,cr flight had been t a bVrd in a cage of Dona Carmen s ,d hoped for when f she had tolerated 3ubly deaiN as one iiral restraints ot a an intoxication of ic question how Ue £ and suspicions ot fpila kept him pvc- incrcascd indisposi- vat appeared to -n [d in pleading 1 oi H'"^ I' he promised her lii Inroportions. I ive his generous but l-nest desire of C^oi^ fan impossibility, for of the troops almost [urn of gathcrmgs ot bands of Conservatives, which promised to offer formidablo resistance to any movement he might make; and until Dona Isabel was safelj' disposed of, he desired at almost any risk to avoid an open collision. The march had slowly proceeded, and so constantly had Gonzales been occupied, and so serious became the con- dition of Dona Isabel, that there was but little conversa- tion between them, and somewhat to his impatience that on her part had been limited to a few brief sentences of warning against Ruiz and constant inquiries for Chinita, and entreaties that search should be made for her in every direction. Gonzales, as far as was possible, had obeyed these in- opportune requests ; but the anxiety and grief that prompted them seemed to him strained and unnatural, though he could not doubt after due inquiry made that the lost girl was of remarkable beauty and of an original and fascinating character. Still, his knowledge of the class whence he supposed her sprung had made quite credible to him the generally accepted theory of her flight. Yet he started when Dona Isabel had mentioned the Americun as her probable companion or instigator, adding in a low voice, " Twice an American has robbed him." What did she mean ? His cheek flushed as he remembered that it had been said that for love of the murdered Ashle}', Her- linda had taken the veil. And had Dona Isabel dreamed that he would find consolation after so many year"^ in this beautiful peasant girl whom she had raised from tlie dust? Gonzales silently resented the insinuation. Yet none the less the suggestion of the complicity of the American in her disappearance haunted and vexed him. He did not tell Dona Isabel that to Ward he owed the definite news of the approach of reinforcements, and that he had vir- tually left him in charge of El Toro, and that the com- mission from Juarez for which the foreigner had applied had alread}-^ doubtless reached him. Had he betrayed this young girl, — the protegee of Dona Isabel, — in spite of his zeal in his service the American should have much to answer for to him. A few weeks would decide all. He prefen'cd to wait patiently the development of affairs, and refrained from perplexing further the mind of Dofia Isabel. M 'i''.f^;. n m CHATA AND CHINITA. Meanwhile the condition of the lady had become rapidly worse. Perhaps she had brought from Tres Hermanos the germs of the disease that during these very days was working such terrible havoc there ; perhaps the long daj'S and nights of exertion, anxiety, and grief had produced it, — but certain it is that as the position of Gonzales became more critical, so the imminent danger of Doiia Isabel increased. A desperate evil commands a desperate remedy. So it was at length decided that an etfort should be made to convey the lady to the city of Guanapilu, to the house of her dauglitcr Doiia Carmen ; and liuiz, in the utter impossibility that Gonzales found of personally conducting the party, was permitted to execute the deli- cate and important trust. With an apparent readiness of resource and disregard of danger, which commended him greatly to the perplexed General, Ruiz himself had proposed the measure. Taking the precaution to send with him men from Tres Hermanos only, and such as he knew to be warmly de- voted to their mistress, Gonzales acceded to the plans of the wily young oiHccr, and despatched him upon the important and seemingly dangerous mission. After the separation of the detailed party from the main body, skirmishing parties began upon the latter fre- quent and harassing attacks, and the suspicions of Gon- zales were again aroused by the impunity which Ruiz enjoyed, yet alternated with fears for his ultimate safety. He could scarcely believe that knowing it to be in their power to secure so rich a prize as Dona Isabel, the hun- gry forces of the clergy would suffer her to escape, unless indeed Ruiz was himself as false as he had once suspected. Again and again he reproached himsell for yielding to the apparent frankness and loyalty of the man he had at first distrusted, and with an anxiety which grew into actual torture he awaited the outcome of the action which circumstances against his will and judgment had forced upon him. Ruiz, nnmolostod, made his way as rapidly as the condi- tion of his charge permitted toward Guanapila. He com- prehended well the circumstances which were distracting the mind of Gonzales. These constant though petty at- tacks he knew from information sent by Reyes were CHATA AND CIIINJTA. 403 1 become rapWly Tre8 Hermanos 3e very days was ma the long days icf bad produced tion of Gonzales danger of Doiia Tiands a desperate at an effort should SI of Guanapila, to [en ; and Uuiz, m )und of personally > execute the deli- urce and disregard tly to the perplexed 3 measure, him men from Tres , to be warmly de- seeded to the plans ^ched him upon the mission. lied party from the upon the latter fre- , suspicions of Gon- Lpunity which Rmz I his ultimate safety. Lcr it to be in their onlv Isabel, the hun- lier to escape, unless . had once suspected. .y for Yielding to the :e man he had at firs ^ich grew into actual of the action which judgment had forced L rapidly as the concVi- iGuinapila. He com- Ihich were distracting Lnt though petty at. fsent by lieycs were destined to weaken the prestige of Gonzales by a series of petty misadventures, after which his destruction by the desertion of Ruiz, followed by the mass of the dis- atfected, might, it was conjectured, be readily accom- plished. It seemed the simplest matter in the world to effect, and had been instantl}' agreed to by Ruiz in the hasty conference with his father. Yet further reflection gave him an unaccountable antipathy to the course he was to pursue. It cannot be said that a lingering trace of honor influenced him, or any genuine disapproval of the character or convictions of Ramirez, for Ruiz was in the widest sense a man to be bought and sold, a creature in- fluenced by every turn of advuiitage ; but in spite of all that had passed between him and Reyes, he doubted the good faith of Ramirez. The good fortune that was to give him Chinita at so slight a cost seemed to him incredible. Did the girl love him, and had she owned as much? Or was she to be fooled into acquiescence in the plans oZ Ramirez by the chimera of his parental power ? No ; he knew Chinita too well to believe she would marry against her own desire, even to gratify a parent who exerted over her the extraordinary ascendency that she had instinctively acknowledged in Ramirez. Ruiz was, moreover, impressed with a belief in the ultimate disaster of the Conservative cause. For Chinita's sake he would risk involvement in the ruin he foresaw, hoping that; by some spar he himself might float ; but unless assured of her good-will, — the thoughts of the young conspirator carried him no further, unless vaguely to conjecture the extent of power which he might thereafter exert over tlie fortunes of Dofia Isabel, through his connection with her m3'stcrious j>rotegGe. With ill-concealed impatience, and hopes and emotions which every hour grew more dazzling and overpowering, Ruiz at length found himself in the house of Doiia Carmen, and in her presence and that of her young companion. With inexpressible amazement, instead of her he sought he found himself face to face with Chata, the supposed daughter of Don Rafael. The confusion and excitement of the arrival gave al- most instantly an opportunity for him to pour into the ear of the young girl the burning questions which rushed to his lips. In the necessity in which she found herself 1; 404 CffATA AND CHINITA. mm to attend instantly the wants of her mother, Dona Car- men left the young soldier and her charge alone together. Breathlessly demanding of Chata news of Chinita, Ruiz re- vealed to the astounded girl the separation of her playmate from Dona Isabel, the mystery of her flight, and the ex- traordinary purposes which the young girl had cherished in relation to Ramirez. In ever}' word too he be .-rayed his own love for her he denounced, and the raging jealousy which possessed him. Chata in her extreme agitation, forgetting the promises she had made, revealed her own connection with Ramirez, in describing in a few brief sentences the scenes which had taken place at Tres Hermanos, and especially the means by which she had saved Don Rafael. She could not comprehend the rage and disgust with which Ruiz flung himself from her when she announced herself to be the daughter of Ramirez, but a moment later it flashed upon her that she had heard herself named as the destined bride of this man who so openly despised her. Had ho too known of the destiny awarded him? She turned from him with a burning blush, and without a word they parted. She remembered afterward that she might per- haps have sent news to the hacienda, — to her foster- father Don Rafael, to Dona Feliz did she still live ; but her one chance had gone, and her semi-imprisonment began anew. Dofia Carmen was not again betrayed into a momentary forgetfulness of her charge. Ruiz turned from the house with a thousand conflicting emotions. The encounter with Chata had produced in his mind an absolute fury of resentment, as he reflected that this was the girl whom Ramirez had promised him as his wife, — in his boyhood jestingly ; in his manhood as a re- ward, an incentive. Heavens ! what was this puny creature in comparison with Chinita? And Chinita was perhaps at that very moment with Ramirez, — perhaps even laughing with him over the weakness and discomfiture of the youth they had combined to deceive! With blind and insensate rage, Ruiz believed himself the victim of a con- spiracy between Ramirez and his own father to substitute this girl for the peerless creature that he loved, and who doubtless was at that moment in the camp of her trium- phant lover. They had thought to entrap him into fur- CHATA AND CHINITA. 405 her, Dofia Car- alone together, jhinita, Ruiz re- of her playmate Tht, and the cx- \\ had cherished too he beu-ayed and the raging ;ing the promises on with Ramirez, the scenes which nd especially the afael. She could with which Ruiz )unced herself to Biit later it flashed cd as the destmed scd her. Had ho lim? She turned thout a word they lat she might per- ^ — to her foster- lid she still live; semi-imprisonment gain betrayed into rge. housand conflicting lad produced in his as he reflected that 'omised him as his is manhood as a re- s this puny creature iiita was perhaps at •haps even laughing liscomfiture of the ! With blind and iie victim of a con- father to substitute b he loved, and who camp of her trium- sntrap him into fur- thering their designs, deeming it impossible that he should enter Guanapila and discover the trick that was to bo played upon him. Ruiz did not for a moment conceive it possible that Ramirez had known nothing of his love for Chinita, or that his father had himself been ignorant of the identity of the girl whom Ramirez had claimed as his daughter, or that Reyes had drawn a false conclusion from his own hasty questions. In this mood Ruiz was presently met by old acquain- tances, before whom he was forced to mask his excitement ; and moreover they were in festive humor, which prevented them from being observant or critical. The town, but imperfectly garrisoned, had for some time held an anxious and harassed populace, prognosticating nothing but inva- sion and the levy of forced loans ; but it chanced that on thai day a guest had arrived, who by the mere magic of his presence, unattractive and unimpressive v > was his bearing, inspired confidence and hope. Benito Juarez himself had made one of those secret incursions for which he was famed, and had reached Guanapila ':yith the purpose of conferring with such officers of his party as had ventured to meet him. There were but few, and Ruiz was honored by an invitation to represent Gonzales. This deference paid him as a delegate from so important a leader, in command of so considerable a force, raised to its highest pitch the absolute fury of resentment that convulsed the desperate lover; and at the banquet that followed the conference, the wine and flattering notice of the Liberal President completed the overthrow of the little caution that he had hitherto maintained in his speech and demeanor. The toasts drunk were loud and frequent, and the nar»e of Ramirez was the most deeply execrated. Many of the young men indulged in extravagant boasts and declara- tions as to the deeds they would accomplish in the near future, scorning the prowess of the man at whose very name thoy were accustomed to tremble. Some one spoke with a laugh of a beautiful girl who had been seen in his company but a few davs before. It was not until afterward that Ruiz reflected that the spy had probably caught a glimpse of Chata on her way from Tres Hermanos. At the moment i 40G CITATA AND CHINITA. !i his mind was full of Chinita, and rising impetuously, in a torrent of fiery words he broke into denunciation and in- vective, telling the tale of Pedro's martyrdom as he had heard it, and vowing that as Ramirez had slain the poor peasant, so he himself would accomplish the defeat and r death of the " mountain wolf." " I promise you, Seiiores," ^ he concluded, " that when you next hear of Fernando Ruiz you shall have cause to remember the vow I have here made. Ramirez is doomed ! " The stoical man at the head of the table smiled faintly at the storm of applause that followed this speech, and as Ruiz a few minutes later took his departure Juarez mut- tered to his neighbor, "That young fellow will bear .match- ing. He hiis either a tremendous personal wrong to avenge, or he is striving to mislead us. I know him to be the godson of this very Ramirez, whom he thundors against. A Mexican may turn against, may even murder, his own father ; but his godfather, — he must be a rene- gade indeed to attempt his destruction ! " His neighbor assented. When the words of Ruiz were reported to Ramirez, — • as reported they were a few days later, — he smiled as grimly as Benito Juarez himself had done. " The cockerel crows loud," he said. *' He was alwaj's a blusterer. Well, we shall see ; a week at latest will decide all that. Bah ! if the fellow but had in him the blood of his father ! — but with the name of his mother he must have taken a braggart's tongue. It will be well for him if he does not wearj mv patience in the end. But for my promise to Reyes—'" He frowned darkly. Had Ruiz seen the face of his godfather then he might have repented his boast. As it was, his own mad words served as a spur urging him to the inevitable future. He returned to the camp of Gonzales unmolested, and was received with intense relief, with thanks and praises, yet wore thereafter a dark and vengeful face. XLII. ,eGn the face of his ted his boast. As a spur urging him led to the camp ot ;eived with intense t wore thereafter a The arrival of Dofia Isabel at the house of her daughter brought a change into the life of Chata that might have been considered even more dreary and oppressive than the scini- imprisonraent to which she had thus far been subjected, though she was spoken of as an honored guest. In fact this change was most welcome to the young girl ; for while it afforded her even less freedom of movement, it gave a sufHcient reason for her seclusion, as also occupation both to body and mind. What had been the nature of the communication that Ramirez had made to Doiia Carmen, Chata knew not, but it had evidently impressed that lady with a deep sense of responsibility. In those days there were even in the quietest times no regular mails into the country districts, and this gave a ready pretext to Doiia Carmen for resist- ing all attempts to communicate with the household at Tres Hermanos. The highways, infested as they were by roving bands of soldiers and banditti, were indeed scarcely safe for the transmission of even peaceful intelhgence ; and thus none reached Guanapila from the hacienda, and Chata, and in a lesser degree Dona Carmen herself, en- dured a painful uncertainty as to the condition of Don Rafael and of Doiia Feliz and others whom Chata had left stricken with the dreaded fever. Day by day she had awaited news ; day by day she had hoped for the appear- ance of Dona Isabel and Chinita, — while Dofia Carmen, after Hstening with astonishment and some manifestations of displeasure to the account Chata gave of the departure of her mother from Tres Hermanos under the escort of troops destined to the relief of Gonzales, gave the opinion that the destination she would seek would be El Tore rather than Guanapila. " My sister the religious is at present there," she said ; and Chata with glowing face, and lips that trembled at i'' m 408 CHATA AND CHINITA. the memory, told her of the chance glimpse she had once caught of the beautiful and saintly nun. Dofia Carmen's eyes filled with tears, and she silently embraced the girl ; the little incident drew Chata nearer to her heart. " Ah, child," she would say, "I never have known, 1 never could conjecture, why our beautiful Iler- linda chose so sad a life, — it must be sad to be shut away from this fair world, from sweet companionship, from love. Yes, Ilcrlinda might have chosen from among a score of the handsomest and noblest of cavaliers. And then our mother, — how she loved her I one might see it through all her sternness. I never knew the truth, yet I am sure a great and terrible sorrow caused Ilcrlinda to enter a convent. She had no inherent fitness, no liking natural or acquired, for such a life." Doila Carmen was not accustomed to speak thus freely of family affairs. She had much of the characteristic reticence of the Garcias. Chata met many of the 3'oungor members from time to time. They were too well bred to show any curiosity concerning her ; but among the servants of the household and of others, there was much gossip as to how and why she had come, and what relationship she bore to the husband of Doiia Carmen, who, kind and amiable man that he was, seemed to take peculiar pleas- ure in her companionship. But the arrival of Dona Isabel in an apparently dying condition turned all thoughts into a new channel. From the first, Chata had entreated to be allowed to take her part in nursing the stricken lady, but had been gently rcfusod. Thereafter, the husband of Doiia Carmen used often to see their 3'oung guest gliding restlessly about the house \ainly seeking some distraction for her anxious thoughts. He did not know the secret pain that tormented her. He would gladly have facilitated her return if he could to that Don Rafael from whom in a mad freak the mountain chieftain had stolen her ; j-et there were circum- stances, — there were reasons for not offending one so powerful. Who knew? Guanapila was of course under Liberal rule to-day, but what would it be to-morrow? The cautious man shrugged his shoulders and said some- thing of this to Chata, who smiled and thought him good to care, jxt wondered with all his goodness and his years, ClIATA AND CIIINITA. 409 ,se she bad once and she silently cw Chata nearer y *' 1 never have Jr Icautiful Uer- \ to be shut away unship, from love, among a score ot 3. And then our ht sec it through nth, yet I am sure jrlinda to enter a o liking natural or , Bpeak thus freely the characteristic any of the younger re too well bred to among the servants vas much gossip as i^at relationship she en, who, kind and take peculiar pleas- ival of Doiia Isabel ed all thoughts into >a to be allowed to ' lady, but had been ,nd of Dofia Carmen ain<' restlessly about ,tion for her anxious ■^pain that tormented icd her return if he , in a mad freak the -t there were circum- jot oifending one so was of course under [d it be to-morrow? Mders and said some- nd thought him good * »dness and his years, — the years that had not brought in their train any addi- tional attractiveness to his person, — that Doiia Carnum loved him. Was it as she had heard, that his riches had beguiled one already passing ricli? Since she had left Kl Toro, Chata had become a woman. Change of scene had given impetus to the somewhat re- tarded development of her physique, and mental anxiety had stimulated her mind and given to it an intuitive ap- preciation of causes and events that is generally gained by innocent and unsuspicious natures, such as hers, only after long experience. Thus she comprehended fully, as she would not have done a few months before, the gravity of the step Chinita had taken in separating herself from Dona Isabel. Kuiz had not spared the woman he loved in the few brief sen- tences he had passionately uttered : love was with him but a devouring flame, ready to destroy its object either in the struggle of attainment or in the fury of baflled desire. Chata blushed even in secret when she remembered the aspersions he had cast upon the friend of her childhood. She knew the innate purity of the giiTs mind, though it had been developed amid surroundings which might well have tainted it. She knew her pride : even when she was but the barefoot foster-child of Pedro the gatekeeper, Chinita had held Pepd and his mates as far apart from her as the dogs that followed them or the mules they tended. Dogs and mules she liked well and made serve her needs, as also she did the lads. Chata did not doubt that Pepo now as ever had proved himself the slave of Chinita's will. Perhaps it was to Tres ilermanos she iiad gone. Although knowing as she did the fascination that Ramirez had always exerted over the girl's mind, she could not but fear J that led not by reckless passion but by a spirit of devo- tion at which Ruiz had sneered, yet in which Chata her- self recognized the peculiar strength and determination of Chinita's character, the impulsive creature might actu- ally have sought an entrance to the camp to urge the plan that she conceived was to further the glory of the Church and the interest of him whom she had made the hero of her imagination. That Ashley Ward was in any way concerned in the disappearance of Chinita, either as a principal or an accessory, Chata indignantly refused to be- Il*l 'i 410 CI/ATA AND CHINITA. i i; \'\\ m IP %\ ! ! m licvc. Ilcr heart boat suffocatingly as she thought of him. No, no ! ho was not a man to entice a girl to her ruin. And as days went by news reached Chata that strength- ened this conviction. The American was engaged in deeds of a far different character. In his way he was beginning to fill the minds and occupy the conversation of people as much as Ramirez had ever done. They gave him a new name, as those at the hacienda had done ; but Conservatives and Liberals alike wondered at and exagger- ated his exploits, until Ashley had won a reputation for reckless bravado quite iorcign to his true character, — which was exhibiting itself in the most careful and nice calculations of chances, the whole tending toward the fulfilment of the task to which he had dedicated himself; namel}', the downfall of the unpunished and unrepentant murderer of John Ashle}'. Chata recognized this, and was filled with emotions per- haps more conflicting, more strange, than had ever be- fore met in the breast of so young a girl. They held her thoughts by day and night. Oh that she had never left Ramirez ! Oh that she could speak but for a few moments with Ashley ! But she was powerless ; and meanwhile what was the fate of Chinita? What that impending over the man she was in duty bound to warn, — to love if it were possible ? But before these reflections had reached this point, an employment that prevented them from becoming utterly overwhelming was afforded her. Chata no longer wandered aimlessly about the house, but kept the strict seclusion of Dona Isabel's apartment, to which she had been hastily summoned one night by Dona Carmen herself. " My mother talks so strangely," she had said in a low voice, pressing her hands to her white and frightened face. " No, I cannot comprehend what she says ; but I cannot have the servants about her. They might imagine un- speakable things. Oh, what tales and rumors they might set afloat ! No, no ! I will not have them here, with their suspicions and evil thoughts. But you, — you are inno- cent and frank ; you will not torture into strange meanings the mutterings of a diseased imagination." " No, no ! " answered Chata, reassuringly^. *' It was the same with Dona Feliz. Sometimes she talked so strangely, :!i|;iil" CI/ATA AND CniNITA. 411 80 sadly, ono was forced to weep, and tlien again \a laugli ; yes, in all my trouble I laughed, liut I will not now, Dofia Carmen ; only let mo bo useful. Dofla Isabel did not seem to like me when she was at the hacienda, so I kept as much as possible out of her sight. Slio said my face was not such as Don Kafaol's daugliter should have ; and after all," she added sadly, *' she was riglit." What passed in that sick chamber tlirough those long days and nights Dofia Carnjon and Cliata never repeated, even to each other. Perhaps they could not, all was so disconnected, so improbable, and through all her delirium the patient held so great a restraint over her utterances. Sometimes ono escaped her that startled and commanded attention ; but tho next invariably contradicted it, and it was impossible to form a connected tlieory even had Chata tried. But that great sorrows, events to cause constant and secret caro and remorse, had taken place in the life of Dona Isabel, and that they concerned Chinita closely, was abundantly clear. What pathetic appeals, what wild ravings, in which the names of those who had lived in the past, — of her husband, her mother, her brother, and of Ilerlinda, — were constantly mingled with those of the American and Chinita. And friends or servants fol- lowed each other in endless yet confusing succession ; yet of them all the name of Chinita was the most frequent. The present grief combined all others ; in Chinita seemed centred the agonies and loves of her lifetime. Chata listened with a sort of env}'. Ah, if it had been given to her to raise such a passion of feeling ! She found herself from day to day leaning with infinite tenderness over this woman, who had seemed so cold, but whose heart was now revealed as a very volcano of repressed and seething emotions. She was grateful and decpl}'^ touched that Dofia Isnbel in her delirium cliing to her fondly, calling her " Mother," or '* Quina," which Dofia Carmen told her was the name of a cousin she had dearly loved. Even after she had recognized her when the delirium was past as tho daughter of Don Rafael, she seemed pleased to have her there ; though she said querulously, " It is strange you arc only a little country girl. But Feliz has good blood in her ; it has been transmitted to you, — there is nothing of Kita, nothing of Rafael himself," 412 CHATA AND CHINITA. ti' ^: ftV' . ! After that she made no further comment ; but her eyes often followed the movements of Chata with a puzzled ex- pression painful to see. One day after she had become convalescent, Dona Carmen spoke of this. *' Whom does she remind you of? " she asked lightly. " I cannot tell ; I do not know," Dona Isabel answered wearily. "Perhaps it is of Chinita. Oh! I can think of nothing but Chinita. Are they still looking for her, as I have prayed, — as I have commanded?" " Mother," said Doiia Carmen, solemnly, " who is Chi- nita ? Why should you care so much ? " The face of Doiia Isabel grew rigid. " Shall 1 tell you what you have uttered in your delirium? " continued Doiia Carmen, looking fixedly into her mother's ej'es. " Shall I ask you if you spoke the truth, or if what I have gathered — here a word, there a word — is but a dreadful fancy ? Mother, Mother ! if it is the truth, no wonder that the fate of this girl is on your soul ! No wonder Herlinda — " She paused affrighted. In her excitement she had said far more than she had intended. What if her mother in her delicate condition should sink beneath this cruel attack, — should faint, should die? Carmen threw herself down beside the couch with a prayer for forgiveness. Dona Isabel in the first surprise had clasped her hands over her heart. Slowly the pale hue of life returned to her face. "Carmen," she whispered faintly, "speak! speak ! After all these years, accusation — even from my own child — is more bearable than silence. O my God, I meant well ! — it was for Herlinda's sake. Yet what re- morse, what agony I have suffered ! " The two women sank into each other's arms; There had ever been a barrier of reserve between them, — in a moment it was swept away. Dona Isabel poured out her heart. It was Carmen who withheld what might, have been revealed ; a conviction seized her that there was much in this strange family mystery j^et undeclared, and of which Doiia Isabel knew nothing ; and that her mother's mind was in no condition to be perplexed by further doubts and complications. She left the room and went to her husband. " Chulita my beautifiil one,** he said anxiously, as she was about to leave him an hour later, " thou wilt do noth- CHATA AND CHINITA. 413 nt; but her eyes ith a puzzled ex- she had become u Whom does I Isabel answered I ! I can think of dng for her, as I aly, "who is Chi- " Shall 1 tell you " continued Doiia •'seyes. " Shall I at I have gathered a dreadful fancy? onder that the fate r Herlinda — " ament she had said if her mother in her his cruel attack, — irew herself down veness. I clasped her hands of life returned to faintly, "speak I ,n__even from my ce. O my God, I ,ke. Yet what re- Ler's arms. There Eween them, — in a kbel poured out her fat might, have been t there was much in flared, and of which Iher mother's mind by further doubts and went to her |id anxiously, as she thou wilt do noth- ing rash? Yet I will not forbid thee. In truth, but that rcbberies and abductions are so common upon the roads, I would go with thee myself." " Not for the world ! " exclaimed Dona Carmen in gen- uine consternation. " They would seize thee and carry thee into the mountains. But as for me, — I promise thee no robber shall think me worth a second thought. But hold thee ready, — the desire may come to her at a mo- ment's thought, and I would not leave thee without warn- ing ; 1 would not have thee unprepared." XLIII. Im i III "With the same unreasoning fiir}^ with which he had de- nounced Ramirez at the banquet, lluiz had returned to the camp of Gonzales ; and through a cleverly managed correspondence with Ramirez — in which however he dared not mention the name of Chinita, lest he should awaken in the astute mind of the General a suspicion that his godson conjectured the deception wh^ch was to be played upon him — Ruiz gradually drew from the chief data through which to propose such movements to Gon- zales as procured for him as a strategist the respect and admiration of that commander, which well might have satistled a laudable ambition. Meanwhile Ramirez himself, though surroundec. by no despicable force, which was dail}- augmented by accessions from the mountains or from the ranks of less popular leaders of either party, was for the first time in his life oppressed by a vague melancholy, — which, with some im- patience, he ascribed to the forced separation from the child whose purity and innocence had so irresistibly at- tracted him. There were times when he thought with what horror such a record as his would be viewed b}' that gentle and upright nature ; and a positive dread came upon him of her ever knowing the one incident that had been so vividly recalled to him by the appearance of the avenger upon the grave of the man he had murdered years before, — one crime among many he had almost forgotten. lie said to himself that an evil spell had been upon him ever since the day when he had foolishly thrown away the charm the elf-like child had given him. His emissaries had brought him word time and again of the miscarriage of his best-laid plans. Who had betrayed them? Ramirez knew too well who had frustrated them. The American who had escaped his knife ut the cemetery seemed ubiquitous since obtaining the commission which authorized him to wage war against his cousin's murderer. CHATA AND CHINITA. 415 Not content with defending El Toro with unexampled bravery, he appeared at every point where an advantage was to be gained. " Carrhi!" Ramirez said to himself, "I shall be forced to give that fellow a thrust of my dagger in secret, since he appears to be impervious to ball and proof against the chances of open warfare. He or I must fall. There's not room in all Mexico for him and me." Whether there was room or not, it seemed destined that they should remain in it together, though not without con- stant collision. Gonzales became to the mind of Ramirez far less formidable than this yellow-haired foreigner, who with a mere handful of followers so constantly harassed and baffled him. Like most men of his class, the moun- tain chieftain was intensely superstitious, and one night in the moonlight he saw, or fancied he saw, a female form ghde before him into the chapparal. He caught but a glimpse of the face, but it had reminded him of Herlinda, for whom he had done the deed that, so late, seemed to have brought upon him a threatened retribution. As he searched the bushes for the woman, whom he could not discover, he shuddered as he remembered the expression of her eyes, — as of a wronged creature who had loved and now hated. He had seen such an expression in a woman's eyes before. More than ever after this strange occurrence the thought of Ashley Ward tormented him ; the young man's face haunted him ; and curiously enough other faces also began to peer upon him, — faces of women he had wronged, of men who with good cause bore him deadly hatred, or of others whom, like the American, or the gatekeeper, he had murdered. Ramirez grew strangely taciturn and nervous. Not even the letters of Ruiz aroused him. In his heart he dis- trusted his godson, as he did all men but Reyes, all women but Chata. Had she been near, he thought, he would have talked to her and cast off his fancies ; but in her absence the}'^ grew upon him. One day he could have sworn he saw clearly not only the face but the figure of Pedro CJomcz ; and upon another, that of the woman ho had lovt^ I long years before. Bah ! they were fantasies. He wondered whether he too would be seized with the fever, which was still raging at Tres Hermanos, ami of f r m i 1! 416 CIIATA AND CHINITA. which thej' said its lady was dying at her daughter's house in Guanapila. Was this weakness of nerve the presage of what was to come? At last battle was joined with Gonzales as had been planned. The day turned in favor of Ramirez ; even the gallant assistance of Ward availed little against the des- perate courage of the mountain troops. The genius and valor of their leader were manifested with a vigor that declared they had been but shaken, not broken. Until the arrival of Ward it had even appeared that the forces actually under the command of Ramirez would have been sufficient to efFect a victory; but Ward's appearance speedily turned the tide in favor of Gonzales, and with some impatience Ramirez gave the signal that was to hasten the promised action of Ruiz. But at the critical moment the expected ally failed him. With a vindictive fury which was demoniacal in its ex- hibition, Ruiz threw himself against his old commander. The carnage was terrible in that part of the field ; and when the fray was ended, the demoralization of Ramirez's troops was complete, — yet he himself had escaped. That such should be the case seemed to Ashlc}' Ward incredible, as later he walked over the field seeking among the slain the man against whom he had begun a private warfare, which to his own surprise had, with further investigation of the principles involved, rapidly attained in his mind the dignity' of a struggle for liberty that even dwarfed the incentive of personal revenge, al- though it was impossible that this should be wholly for- gotten or ignored. Gonzales marched into El Toro amid the clanging of bells and shouts of rejoicing j for though that was a con- vent town, the people of the lower class were mad Juaris- tas^ who did good service under Ward when troops were scarce. The triumph had however not been gained with- out much loss upon the Liberal side ; and among the missing was the j'oung officer who in the ej'es of Gonzales — and to the astonishment of Ward — had so ably vindi- cated his character as a stanch adherent in the day of battle. Pepe too, the right-hand man of Ward, was gone. In very truth, at the last moment the most important and useful calculation of Ruiz had failed. He saw Ra- CHATA AND CHINITA. 417 mirez, by his orders, 'surrounded by desperate men ; it seemed inevitable that he must be stricken down, — when a party led by Re^'es broke through to his assistance, and in the fury of the onslaught Ruiz himself was swept from his horse and hurried away, and to his consternation found himself a prisoner dragged onward in the irresistible impetus of flight. They were miles distant from the scene of battle when the fugitives ut last paused ; and hero for the first time Ramirez knew of the special prisoner that had been made. When his eyes fell upon the 3'outh, a frown which darkened as with a palpable cloud his already rigid and pitiless face, overspread the countenance of Ramire^ and made it absolutely terrible. Even to fallen angels the crime of ingratitude may seem the one damnable otfence. In Ruiz, remembering the love and favor he had shown him, Ramirez held it so to be. This insignificant boy had compassed his ruin ; his life seemed too poor a forfeit to condone the oflTence. The baffled, desperate, outraged chieftain cursed the fate which had cast the treacherous favorite into his power. But the terrible blackness of his face still deepened, as he gazed. A lasso had been drawn tightly around the waist of Ruiz. His face was cut and bleeding ; the gold lace and epaulettes had been torn from his coat; his uncovered hair was filled with dust, and his face reeking with sweat. He raised his bloodshot e^'es appealingly. He knew the man before him, — the man, worthless and unscrupulous though he was, who had been kind to him, whom he had betrayed, and whose death he had attempted to compass. Ruiz did not attempt to speak, but fell on his knees and raised his bound hands. Ramirez gazed at him a moment in silence, then without the quiver of a muscle in his impassive face uttered the sentence, " Let him be shot at once ! " Shot at once, — from that terrible mandate there was no appeal. There was not one there to utter a word in the traitor's behalf, but only a moan from the dust to which he had sunk. Reyes was not there ; probably the result would have been the same had he been. The soldiers raised the young officer and stood him against a tree. At the last moment that strange indifference to death, 27 418 Cl/ATA AND CHINITA. 'U'. I .' '■' >■ 'w: , which among his countrymen so often counterfeits cour- age, caused liuiz to straighten his (igure and raise liis Jicad ; and in the insolence of despair he said to Ramirez, with a glance of malignant contempt, "Had you fallen into my hands I would have shot you with my own pistol an hour ago." Perhaps the still proud youth hoped by this speech to escape the ignominy of execution b}' a file of common soldiers. If so he was mistaken. Ramirez gave the sig- nal ; the balls whizzed through the air and found their way to their destined aim. Ruiz fell without a groan. Ramirez himself, though still with an impassive face, to the astonishment of all stooped and stretched the limba and crossed the hands of the young man upon his breast. There was a spot of blood upon the face, and the chief wi[)ed it away as tenderly as a mother might lave the face of her dead infant ; and yet but a few moments before ho had commanded this youth to a violent death, and accord- ing to the creed h( 'eld, his soul to purgatory without benefit of clergy. Forgetting to give the expected order for the execu- tion of the other prisoners, Ramirez turned awa}'. In another moment he had placed himself at the head of the party and continued the retreat. " At the next halt it can be done as well," remarked the lieutenant, philosophically. ''There are plent}' of horses ; bind the prisoners well and bring them along." And thus for that day at least Pepe Ortiz among others knew he had escaped a fate of which the very idea — with the remembrance of Ruiz to intensify its horror — made his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth and his knees quiver with terror. Yet the day came when ho, like the traitor whose end he had witnessed, strai«fhtened himself against a tree, and with apparent coolness awaited the mandate of Ramirez that was to consign him to eternity ; naught but a miracle it seemed could save him. He onl}'^ begged a cigarette of a soldier, remarking that they might be scarce where he was going, — secretly' hoping thus to hide the quiver of the lips which belied the bra- vado of his words. Shortly after this time, Chata to her surprise received b}' the hand of an Indian fruitseller a brief note from CHATA AND CHINITA. 419 counterfeits cour- urc and raise Ins e said to Uamircz, "Had you fallen witli my own pistol \ by tliis speecli to a iile of common iiirez gave the sig- lir and found tlieit 1 witliout a groan. impassive face, to stretched the limbs lan upon his breast. face, and the chief ' might lave the face \ moments before ho t death, and accord- 9 purgatory without ^rcler for the execu- iZ turned away. In If at the head of the t the next halt it can lant, philosophically, lie prisoners well and 6 Ortiz among others the very idea — with fV its horror— made mouth and his knees me when he, like the , straightened himself coolness awaited the isign him to eternity ; ,ould save him. He remarking that they ncr,— secretly hoping w"hich belied the bra- her surprise received cr a brief note from Ramirez. At the first reading its contents seemed hard unci indifferent. He spoke with an ahnost savage irony of those who were driv.ng him back like a wolf to iiis moun- tain lairs. " I know of fastnesses, if I care to seek them, whore no foot but mine has ever trod, and wliere tliis ac- cursed American who is hunting me down like i'ate coukl never hope to follow me," he wrote. " lint it shall never he said that Ramirez lied from man or spirit, were it Satan himself. After all, a man may not escape from him who is destined to bring death to him. Ruiz was marked to die by me. I loved him, yet his fate is accomplished." Chata shuddered. It seemed incredible that save by accident such a thing could happen, so sacred is esteemed by Mexicans the tie between sponsor and godchild ; and the tone of the letter impressed her as that of a nesperate man who was ready for unheard-of deeds. Had Ramirez in truth deliberately destroyed the man whom for years he hu'^ associated in his every hope and plan, to whom he had promised the hand of his child? Deep indeed must have been the villany that had merited such an end. The sigh of relief which Chata involuntarily breathed, that she was free from the possible accomplishment of the destiny that had been marked out for her, was perhaps as sympa- thetic as any caused by the death of Fernando Ruiz. A reperusal of the letter gave to Chata's mind an impres- sicm of the longing, the stinging regret, the remorse which the words had been designed to conceal rather than dis- l)lay. The pride, the fierceness, the unconquerable will of tlie writer pervaded them ; yet the wail of a lost spirit cry- ing for the one good that it had known, and now believed forfeited forever, seemed to echo through her soul. '• He loves me,' she thought remorsefully. "He believes him- self (loomed to die, and that he will see me no more. Oil ! if it were possible I would go to him. Oh, if I dared toll Dona Isabel ! — but no, she would keep me from him ; she would mock m^' pain with the cry that this was but the just recompense of the evil he had brought upon her long ago. She believes her brother dead ; why torture her by telHng her my miserable history? " Chata showed the letter to Dona Carmen, and she it was who called the girl's attention to some chance mention of 14 I " in' M: firi'""' ■"■■ I ■ 420 CI/ATA AND CIIINirA. the name of the i 'ace where Ramirez said he might be able to remain some clays, oven if closely pressed, for the poople there were secretly sworn to his sui)[)ort. Day after day wild rumors Hew through the city of the pursuit of Ramirez, his capture, his death, only to be contradicted upon the next. They did not seriously agitate Chata, for not once was the name of the place he called his strong- hold mentioned. One night the anxious girl had a vivid dream. She dreamed she saw t^he chieftain and Chinita lying dead, — the one on one side of a village street, the other on the opposite. The people were rushing wildly about scream- ing and gesticulating madl3% while Dona Isabel, followed by women clothed in black like herself, was in frenzy passing from one to the other, uttering that low wail that seems the very key-note of woe. Chata woke with a stifled scream. The wind was blow- ing shrilly through the trees and seemed to bring to her a voice, which said, "Wake! oh wake, Chata ! 1 have dreamed of her." The voice sounded close to her ear. It came from Dona Isabel, who leaning over the dreamer's bed was repeating again and again the words, " I shall find her. I have dreamed of her." Chata raised herself upon the pillows and caught the lady's wasted hand. " Yes, yes," continued Dofia Isabel, ' ' I have dreamed of Chinita and of another, — one I loved long years ago. I saw them together in Las Parras. It is a revelation ! Whv have I not thought of it before ? No other place would be so fitting. I shall find her. I am going now, now 1 My carriage, ray horses, my men must be here ; I will call them. Tell my daughter when she wakes ; she will understand." Doiia Isabel turned to leave the room, her excitement supplementing her returning strength ; but Chata detained her. " I too will go," siie cried. " Nothing shall prevent mo. Doiia Carmen will not stop us, — she knows ; she dare not forbid me. I will tell her now. She will know what is best for us. The carriage is still here, but — " Chata hastened from the room and wakened Dona Car- men. " Ah," said the daughter to herself, " the thought is come, and the hour." She hastily wrote a line to her hus- band, who was absent aii a hacienda he owned near the CIIATA AND CIIINITA. 421 said be migbfc lie ly pressed, for the [lis support. l^i\y jity of the pursuit to be contradicted a' '* : ! m- M wSt 1 1 f i 422 CIlAl'A AND CiriNITA. That night the travellers remained at a miserable hut, which served as an inn, feeling a certain protection in the presence of an aged priest, who chanced to be awaiting tliore an opportunity to proceed upon a long-interrupted journo}' ; and upon the following morning he formed one of the travelling party. Beyond bestowing upon them his blessing, he said nothing to them, — although somewhat to her discomfort Dona Carmen noticed tluit he often turned an inciuiring gaze upon them. Early in the afternoon the diligence stopped at a miserable village, the nearest point at which, in the interrupted arrangements of travel, it ap- proached Las Parras ; and having deposited Dona Isabel's party and tlie priest, diverged toward the north. Doiia Isabel looked around her hclplessl}', saying, " It is nearly eight leagues to Las Parras. I have often been here, — I know the road well. We shall never reach there ! " "You will see. Mother, you will see," answered Dona Carmen, cheerfully ; and greatly to the astonishment of the priest and the women who stood near, she drew forth a half-dozen ounces of gold, and held them up. " See," she said in her clear patrician voice, "you are good people here ; we are not afraid to trust you," — her quick eye had shown her there was not an able-bodied man in the almost ruinous place. " We are not so poor as we look, and I will give you all this for three, four — " she glanced at the priest — " horses, donkeys, or mules, be they ever so poor, upon which we can go our way." The women laughed stupidly, and looked at one another and then at the gold. Evidently if there was a beast of burden in the village it was securely hidden, and though the mone}' tempted them the}' were afraid. '* No, no," said one at length. "Three weeks ago the Senores Liberales drove off our last cow, and the week after the Senores Conservadores slaughtered the turkeys, and — " "But we want neither cows nor turkeys," interrupted Carmen, impatientl}'. "Quite true; but the Senorita would have horses," answered the matron imperturbably ; "and yesterday the General Ramirez was here — " She paused as though it were unnecessary to say more CflATA AND CIIINITA. 423 answered Dona turkeys," interruptecl would have horses," ; " and yesterday the Gcessary to say more of the fato of tlieir horses ; and Dona Isabel, starting up impetuously, hurriedly questioned the assembled gossips. Upon the subject of the visit of Ramirez the villagers were eloquent. He and his followers had reached there spent with fatigue and long fasting. In a few moments the place had been sacked of all its poor provision ; there had not been enough to give one poor ration to the half-dozen prisoners who were with them. The}' would have been shot — yes, upon the very spot upon which their graces were standing— but for the i)rayersof a young girl, who seemed to be the lieuteriant's wife ; at least she was in his care, — and Ramirez had admitted it could be done as well at the next halt. She herself gave a drink of water to the i)oor lads for the love of God, and also a tortilla to one among them that she knew, — poor Pepo Ortiz; but he was too weak to swallow it, and had given it to another less wretched than he. Chata began to cr^' softly, while Dona Isabel demanded a description of the young girl who had been of the party. This was vague enough ; but insullicient as it was it made the thought of further delay impossible, — and the elo- qucmce and gold of Dofia Carmen, to which was added the authority of the priest, presently' induced the villagers to produce four sorry beasts, upon which with some dilli- culty the party were secured, for no saddles or panniers were to be had. It was almost sunset when, following the old stage-road, the alreadv wearied travellers set out upon their long and possibly perilous ride. The women of the village stood for a long time with arms akimbo, looking after the departing travellers. They had divided the money among themselves, — they felt rich and could afford to be pitiful. " The poor Sefiora has perhaps lost a daugh^.er," said one — "doubtless the fair girl who rode with the lieutenant. The Holy Mother protect her, for the man was in two minds about taking her farther; but the Sefior General swore he would rtni his sabre through him if he cast her off to starve in such One who has never lived in my how well the pigs fatten here a hole. To starve, eh ! birthplace cannot know when the tunas are ripe." "Pshaw! girls are fools, and not worth breaking one's head for," said a second, whose only son kept her rich, 424 CIIATA AND CIIINITA. when well-laden travellers were plenty. " Where go thoy now? They are turning toward Las Parras. They will miss the soldiers, or I am no propliet." *' As a prophet one may give thee a thousand lashes, for thou art ever at fault," laughed a third. " But what matters it to us where they go? The road is open to them as to another. They should not go far wrong with a holy little priest to guide them." XLTV. Upon the very morning that Dofia Isabel and her com- panion left Guanapila, ncwa which might perhaps have changed their movements had tliey heard of it Ilew Hko wildfire over the city. The convents throughout Mexico had been simultaneously opened under a decree of the Liberal government, and thousands of women dedicated to a cloistered life were thus set free to choose anew their destiny. Women who for half a century, perhaps, had lived apart from 'To and love were returned to die amid the turmoils of a home where love for them had ceased, or to pass over seas to seclusion in strange lands. Others, in whom voices as of demons were but just then ceasing to tempt the memory with whispers of the world and its alluring joys, saw those jo3's actually within their reach, and with dismay sought to turn their eyes awa}-^, and prayed for strength to bravo the perils of the deep, and bear the homesickness that in a strange country would torment the soul of the cloistered nun as surely as if she had been free to gaze upon the valleys and mountains of the native land she was about to leave forever. Younger women, those to whom the early years of seclusion had brought but disenchantment, were cruelly roused from the stupor of habit which was succeeding pain and presaging content, and with secret regret now clung to the vows they fain would have cast aside forever, or in a few — a very few — cases became that shunned and despised creature, a recreant nun. That night was the signal for horror and tears throughout the land. A wail arose from thousands of families, about to catch a glimpse of their consecrated dear ones, and then to know them banished forever. Such uprooting of ties, such griefs, such domestic woes, arc inevitable in all great national or social revolutions. 426 CHATA AND CHINITA. M ! w 4** I ■1 ! 1 A cei^ain secrecy had been observed in the preparations for and execution of this stroke of policy, which had indeed been threatened and openly urged as a political necessit}', but which in spite of the exile of the archbishops and t!io suppression of monasteries had been thought — even by those who acknowledged its probable benefits to the na- tion — too daring a measure ever to be carried into effect. It had been thought a dream of the arch-iconoclast Juarez. ]Jut he was a man whose dreams were apt to come true ; and so it happened upon this summer night, striking admiration and consternation to the hearts of Liberals and Conservatives alike, for there was scarce a family of either party throughout Mexico that was not re)3re- sented in the vast religious houses which abounded in every town. Into these, overcoming their superstitious scruples, the populace for the first time now penetrated, and learned something of the surroundings and conse- ouent life of those whom for centuries they had supported ^ 1 saints, dedicated to prayer and fasting for the sins of the people. To their disenchantment and surprise, the peordo found many of these gloomy piles filled with wide and beautiful chambers, where flowers and musical instru- ments stood side by side with the altar and prie Dicu^ and parlors and refectories which opened upon gardens planted with the choicest and most luxuriant shrubs and flowers. There were kitchens too where the choice con- serves were made which sometimes found a wav to the outer world, and where doubtless other savory dishes were prepared for the saintly sisterhoods. In many of these retreats each nun had her servant, who came and went at her command, and life — if one may judge from the inanimate things and the low whispers that sometimes reached the outer air — was made a soft and tensuous prelude to the celestial harmony of eternity. But there were others — and they were many — where the utmost austerity pictured by the devout secular mind was practised ; where entered the poor daughter, or she whom the priests perceived had a true vocation, or a deep and agonizing grief, which would keep her faithful to the vows of poverty, of devotion, and obedience. There were none of those amiable daughters of rich families too boun- tifully supplied with girls, and for whom a dowry to the CHATA AND CIIINITA. ^11 Church provided a safe and pleasant home, whence they might easily glide through this life into another, — where female angels would never be esteemed too plentiful, — but where were only the poor, the sorrowful, the despairing ; and the well-filled vaults beneath the gloomy chapels attested how rich a harvest death had gleaned in those dreary abodes of penance. For many da3's the officers in command at various points had been in possession of orders, — which it is to be con- jectured were in many cases transmitted to the abbesses of the principal nunneries, that they might take advantage of this notice by quietly disbanding their sisterhoods and sending each member to her own family, or in communities to the tJnited States or some transatlantic land. But the opportunity for moral martyrdom was not to be destroyed by a mere concession to convenience, and not in a single case was the knowledge acted upon, — except perhaps that in a few convents u[)()n the dosiguatcd night the nuns re- frained from repairing to their dormitories, but pre[)aied for exit, awaited the mandate pra3ing in the lighted chapels ; and where this occurred, the mothers superior afterward acquired reputations of special sancity for the supposed spirit of prophecy which had moved them. But in the majority of these establishments, so absolute was the be- lief that the threatened invasion would never be attempted, or if attempted would bring upon the intruders the instant vengeance of the Almight}', that no change was made in usual habits, and an outward composure was maintained, which we may believe among the initiated at least dis- guised many a beating heart fdled with genuine horror, or with a wild guilty anticipation from which it shrank in remorse. The world ! the world ! With a turn of the lock, with scarce more than a step, the}'^ would be in it ; and then — then ! Guanapila was not, strictly speaking, a convent city. The few small retreats within it were vacated with so little commotion that, except in the houses to wliich the sisters were removed, nothing was known of the measure until the following morning. But in the much smaller town of El Toro there were whole streets lined on either side with high, massive, and windowloss walls which were the fa(;ade8 of vast cloisters. It was with feelings of intense •fit*'! mm 428 CIIATA AND CHINITA. nvi m VXk WXW\ H .^*" •I fS '' I though repressed excitement that Vicente Gonzales placed himself at the head of a small force which was to demand entrance to those formidable but peaceful structures, while the mass of the troops remained at the citadel, ready upon a signal to enforce his authorit}*, whether questioned by Church or people. It was true the populace had de- clared itself Liberal in sentiment ever since the defeat of Ramirez had left them under the guns of the Juaristas ; but bred as they had been under the very shadow of these colossal monuments of the Church it was not unlikely that when their sanctity was threatened, the momentary con- version of the citizens to patriotism might yield to zeal in the oefence of institutions that had appeared to them as unassailable as the very heavens. Vicente Gonzales might readily have sent another to fulfil the dubious task before him, — in fact in most cases men of dignity unconnected with the army were chosen as peaceful ambassadors of the power that held the sword ; but the hour had arrived for which this man had pra^'cd and fought, — for which he would have pra3'ed and fought had no individual suifering added sharpness to the sting of the thorn that for so long had tormented his nation. He himself, he resolved, would execute the decree that should sweep this great incubus from the land. Per- chance among the released he might find one whom he had never consciously for one moment forgotten ; he might see her. if but for a moment, as she passed in the throng. He had never ceased to see the yearning, despairing, yet resolute expression upon the young face of Herlinda Gar- cia, as amid clouds of incense it faded from his sight behind the iron bars that separated her and her sister nuns from the body of the church whence he had wit- nessed her living entombment. That was in a city far away ; most likely she was there now. Yet there was a chance, — a mere chance ! Strangely enough, Ashley Ward had never spoken the name of Herlinda to Gonzales ; nor had either mentioned that of Chinita — an inexplicable yet differing motive holding both silent. The rapid events of the war, which had given full occupation to body and mind, had prevented discussion of domestic matters, and there was something in the reticence of Gonzales that forbade aught but deeply CIIATA AND CHINITA. 429 serious investigation ; and for the present Ward was unprepared to attempt this. The}' were friends ; but there were deeps in the nature of each that the other made no attempt to fathom. Upon tliis night Ward knew the mind of Gonzales perhaps better than did the man him- self; and throughout the unwonted scenes of which he was a mere passive spectator, to him the most engrossing were the emotions that betrajcd themselves upon the countenance of the commanding officer. As Ashley and Gonzales left their quarters together, behind them followed closely a man in a sergeant's uni- form, who halted painfully, and across whose face was a livid scar. To those who had heard nothing of the tor- ture he had undergone, Pedro Gomez would have been scarcely recognizable, — for besides the disfiguring scar, there was an expression of vengeful and ferocious daring where before had been but dogged obstinacy and a certain rough kindliness ; and to those who had believed him dead, his appearance would have brought a supersti- tious horror as that of one escaped from the tomients of the damned. Besides these three, several officers and other gentle- men, with a small guard of soldiers, passed out of the citadel afoot, and at a short interval were followed by all the available carriages of the town. What occurred there- after may perhaps be best described by a translation of the chronicles of the time : — " One night — one terrible night — a long and unusual sound, a prolonged rumble, was licard in the streets. It seemed shortly as if all the carriages in the cit}'^ had be- come mad, now rushing hither, now thither, waking from sleep the peaceful neighborhood ; so that each person demanded of the other, ' What is this?' ' What has hap- pened?' and no one could answer with certainty the other. " While the people wondered, the carriages stopped at the doors of the nunneries, and the gentlemen charged with the commission demanded entrance, and intimated to the nuns the order to leave their cells and refrain from re- uniting in cloister. " ' But. gentlemen, for God's love ! ' " 'IIow can this be?' I It.' v'fv 'ii'ii „■ mm mti: , , i M A\ mM 430 CNATA AND CHINITA. (( ( (( *' ' His will be done ! ' But where can we go? Oh, what iniquit}' ! ' Such were the phrases that broke the startled stillness of the Cloisters. But the commissioners were deaf to all appr-.ils, merely ruobing their hands and saj'ing, — '•'- " Let us go. Let us < , • on, Senoritas ! We have no time to lose ! ' "Truly the time was limited, — that night only, for perchance b}^ day the gentlemen commissioners would have had a distaste to penetrate the convents ; or per- haps only bj' night can certain mischievous deeds be car- ried to the desired exit. "It is said that some naugiity novices upon hearing themisclves called seiioritas forgot for an instant their grief, and smiled. There did not lack also of those who had entered the category of grave mothers who did the same ! And after all, was not this a venial and excusable fault? Should not a girl, beautiful and fragrant as a jasmine, be- come tired of hearing herself addressed every hour and every day in the year as ' Little Mother,' ' My Reverend Mother,' ' How is your Reverence?' . . . " This was an event which each one was obliged to accept as she would, but none the less surel}'. ' Came it from God ? Came it from Satan ? ' By either it may have come ; but is it not true that Satan is — ourselves ? " The party headed b}"- Gonzales asked themselves no such questions as these, but cautiousl}', swiftl}', and effec- tivel}' did the work, which history might criticise. No time was allowed the nuns for preparation. Even from the richest convents few articles were carried away as the nuns dispersed. Perhaps more previous preparation than was suspected or afterward acknowledged had been made ; certain it is that the most magnificent and valuable jewels had disappeared from the vestments of the virgins and saints upon the altars. But as quickl}' as might be the weeping and lamenting sisters were placed in carriages and convej'ed to houses ready to receive them ; though many in the confusion wandered out into the darkness and rain afoot, and gave a pathetic chapter to the tale of bloodless martyrdom. As one by one the convents were vacated, the party passed on ; until the smallest CHATA AND CHINITA. 431 I ■ me was obliged to surely. ' Came it By either it may ,n is — ourselves ? " anrl dreariest of those retreats, that which nestled beneath the shadow of the parish church, was reached. Throughout the work Gonzales had spoicen only to give the necessary orders. The measure tliat in itself had been bo dear to his soul was now in its actual execution repug- nant to him, — the tears, the siglis, the long processions of black-robed and wailing women distressed his heart, and lilled him with s^x^iimc and anger. As all this con- tinued, his face darkened and a profound melancholy oppressed him. It was raining dismally. In other towns doubtless the same scenes were being enacted. He turned faint, his eyes filled as with blood. Even Ashley Ward, amid the intense interests of the scenes around him, — the views of those grand interiors lighted by the candles borne by the retiring nuns, and the red glare of the soldier's torches, — felt the influence of the deep sadness of this solemn exodus. The clouds of incense sickened him, and through them the glorified Madonnas, the bleed- ing Christs upon the altars, the troops of black- robed nuns themselves, seemed alike beings of another world, into which he had stepped unbidden. The light shone upon rows and rows of white faces, which looked forth from their wrappings like faces of dead saints. Ho seemed to see each individual one. He was excited to the utmost; the blood pulsed hotly through every vein, yet a sense of keen disappointment chilled his heart, and unconsciously to himself something of what he read upon the faces of Gonzales and Pedro was reflected upon his own. A profound quiet and solemnity fell upon the party, as thc}'^ passed the vestibule and penetrated the dim recesses of the Convent of the Martyrs. There the nuns were all gathered in the chapel, praying and waiting, and the wail of the Miserere stole from the great organ through the dim arches and bare cells. In that place there was nothing of beauty, of grace, of sen- suous luxury. The stern austerities of an asceticism scarce surpassed in medieval da3's was found behind those massive and windowless walls, which shut out the light, material and moral, of the nineteenth centur}'. As the men entered the chapel, the nuns fell upon their knees and covered tlicir faces, — all except the abbess, who remained standing to hear the mandate of expulsion. 432 CHATA AND CHINITA. if; ■■ vm^ !^' mm .'( '■ .i: 1:: I i ;i " Blessed be God ! " responded her deep, pathetic voice, "Blessed be God in all his works! Sisters, let us go hence ; " and taking up the woful strains when the organ ceased, with each nun adding to them the weird beaut>' of her voice, the abbess led the way to the portal, and the sisterhood passed into the bleak darkness of the unfamiliar street. By this time the wind was blowing, — a summer's wind, 3'et it pierced the bodies upon whicli for 3ears no air of heaven had blown, — and it was raining heavily. Fortu- natel}' man}' vehicles had gathered at the curb, and ere long the banished nuns were under shelter ; and the work of the night was accomplished. Ashley Ward, with other officers and gentlemen, had busied himself in bestowing the poor ladies as rapidl\' and commodiously as possible in the carriages, and as tlie last one turned the corner of the great bi.-'ding, the soldiers fell into line at the word of command ; and in a few mo- ments he found himself alone. He discovered this wJicn he turned to speak to Gonzales. He was nowhere to be seen, and Ashlc}' remembered that when he had last seen him it was at the chapel door, watching with pale and anxious countenance the exit of the nuns. Gonzales had been suffering from a recent wound. Had the fatigue and exposure, and that deadly sickness of crushed and dying hope overcome him? Ashley caught up a torch, which was sputtering and about to expire on the dripping pave, fanned for a moment its flame, and then made his way back into the forsaken building. He found Gonzales standing on the spot where he had l)arted from him, and before him stood a man with a flickering torch. Both were in an attitude of extreme dejection ; both started as Ashley's footsteps broke the stillness. Pedro — for the second man was he — led the way into the outer darkness, and Gonzales, having in his hand the heav}' ke}' which had been delivered by the ab- bess, turned to lock the abandoned house. He paused and looked to the right and left. Tlie street was utterly forsaken ; the rain came in gusts, and it was with much ado that Pedro, turning hither and thither, kept alive the flame of the torch. Once as he turned, the light fell full upon the face and en ATA AND CHINITA. 433 ;p, pathetic voice, sisters, let us go IS when the organ le weird beauty of ic portal, and tlio s of the unfamiliar -a summer's wind, br years no air of g heavily. Fortu- °the curl), and ere Iter ; and the work lid gentlemen, had dies as rapidly and crcs, and as the last v^ding, the soldiers i ; and in a few mo- iscovered this wlien ; was nowhere to he len he had last seen hing with pale and recent wound, iiaa deadly sickness of hi? Ashley caught about to expire on nent its flame, and ken building. 3 spot where he had tood a man with a attitude of extreme footsteps broke the lan was he— led the izalcs, having in lus delivered by the ab- . house. He paused ic street was utterly nd it was with much hither, kept alive the uU upon the face and figure of Ward; and at the instant an exclamation of incredulous jo}^ followed b}' a groan, fell upon their ears. Gonzales dropped the kej', and it rang sharply upon the stones at his feet. " There is a woman here ! " he ejaculated breathlessly. Something in tlie tones had drawn the blood from his heart. " Here ! here ! a light, Pedro, in God's name ! " The senses of Pedro were even more acute than those of Gonzales and Ward. Not only had he heard the voice, but he knew whose it was, and whence it had come. His torch flashed upon an alcove of the deep wall ; and there ensconced Ihey saw the sombre and meanl}' clad figure of a nun. She had covered her face ; her form shook violently. " Seiiorita," said Gonzales, recovering himself and re- spectfully approaching the woman, " forgive us that j'ou are left behind. We thought all had been provided for — all." " It is I who would have it so, — I who promised myself I would escape," answered the nun, brokenly, yet with an almost fierce intensity. " Have I not pra3'ed and wept for this hour? Could I let it pass? No, no ! I lingered — 1 fled — I could not, would not, go with them. They would have dragged me with them across the seas — away — away from her, — m}'^ child ! my child ! " She uttered the la^t words almost in a scream, j'et her gaze followed Ward. "Who is he? who is he?" she asked in a feverish whisper. " It is not my murdered angel, — my love, mj' husband, — it is not he ; and yet so like I Oh m}' God, is it because thou hast forgiven me that thou bringest this vision before me ? " Gonzales started back ; gazed eagerl}'^, rapturously at the nun ; then rushed to clasp the coarse folds of her drapery. Pedro dropped at her feet. Ward alone uttered her name, — " Herlinda ! " Gonzales bent over her hand, uttering inarticulate words of greeting. She scarcely seemed to hear them. " Vicente, is it thou? " she said faintly. " But he, who is he? — the man of the yellow hair, with the face that at prayer and at penance, asleep and awake, has ever haunted me ? " Herlinda stepped neaier to Ward. Her lips were parted, her eyes aflame ; never in all his life before and never 28 I 434 CHATA AND CHINITA. }\ IM . i.:| again saw he a woman so bcautifUl as this one in tho unsightly garb, so coarse it grazed the skin where it touched it. " No wonder," he thoiigiit, "my cousin loved her ; he could have done no other, even had he known ho was doomed to die for her 1 " Ah ! the unhui)py daughter of the haughty Garcias was fiir more beautiful that night than ever John Ashley had beheld her. Suffering lirst had refined, and now the divine inspiration of hope illumined those perfect features. Ashlej' Ward comprehended this ; but Gonzales with hor- ror recalled her words, and thought her mad. " Maria /Sanctissima ! " she cried as tho light flashed full on tho American, *' I am forgiven, that I behold the living like- ness of his face." Ward bent before her, inexpressibl}' touched. He would have spoken, but at this instant her eyes fell upon the kneeling man at her feet "It is Pedro, — yes, it is Pedro," Ilerlinda said in a low voice. " Perhaps he knows of her, — yet, my God, he dares not look at me ! " "Nina, Nina I" " Speak, Pedro, speak ! thou must know of her. Tell me, was Feliz faithful ? Is mj' child well, happy ? " " Merciful God, she is indeed mad ! " interjected Gon- zales. " O Herlinda, know you not 3'ou never were mar- ried, never had a child? " Herlinda turned on him a and impatience, then raised heaven. "They said I was brokenly ; from me. glance of mingled entreaty her eyes piteously toward not married," she moaned " but oh, 1 had a child, — and they took her Oh, if I could have died ! " Gonzales turned from her with a groan. How bitter was the revelation ! Married ! It could not have been ! And a child ? Ah ! he knew then why a convent had been her doom. In a broken voice Pedro began to speak. Ashley, with the red glare of the torch he held falling full upon him, seemed to Gonzales a mocking witness of the shame and woe which from Herlinda were reflected upon him, the man who loved her, had ever loved her ; yet he felt instinctively that the American had a right to hear, to judge, as well as he. Ah, it was an American who — " An American ! " he gasped, and his hand touched the hilt of his sword. CHATA AND CHINITA. 435 his one in tlio skill where it [ly cousin loved ,a Uo known ho ity Garcias was ohn Ashley had , and now the perfect features, .nzalcs with hor- mad. ''Maria shed full on tlio a the living Uke- ichcd. He would -es fell upon the idro, — yes, It is L'erhaps he knows : at me I " now of her. Tell I, happy?" ' interjected Gon- i never were mar- mingled entreaty pitcously toward fied " she moaned [and they took her troan. How bitter [id not have been ! convent had been ieak. Ashley, with [ling full upon "^™' Is of the shame and 1 upon him, the man he felt instinctively to judge, as well as I An American I ae )f his sword. ** Nifla, Nifia ! " Pedro was saying. " The}' brought the child to me. Oh, tlie sweet child, with its soft, dark eyes, — oil, the child with its ruddy curls ! and 1 remembered all that you had said, my fSenovita. I watched over it, 1 clierished it, it was my own ! " " Thine ! thine ! " cried the nun clasping her hands, and in her excitement even thrusting him from her. " It could not be ! Oh Feliz, Fellz ! thou couldst not be so false ! " The tone of incredulity, of horror, in which she spoke pierced Tedro to the quick; yet he answered humbly, "I thought to please you, Niila, to keep her from those jou distrusted ; and she was happy, oh quite happy, all through her little childhood. You know one can be quite happy- playing in the free air." The released nun burst into sudden tears. "Happy in the free air! Oh yes, yes !" she cried. "Oh, if all these years I could have begged even from door to door with my child, even with the brand of shame upon me I Oh the suffering, the suffering of these long, long desolate years ! " Gonzales stepped to her side, and placed her arm within his own. "Thou shalt be desolate no more, Heilinda," he said, " thou betrayed angel of purity ! " " Betrayed, no 1 " cried Ashley Ward, looking up. " De- ceived perhaps they both were, but the man who was slain as her betrayer believed himself her husband, as she be- lieved herself his wife, — as I believe now she most truly was. Thank God I am here to champion their cause and that of their child ! " Gonzales left Herlinda a moment to embrace Ward in his southern fashion ; then supporting her again listened to what Pedro had to say. The mother's face grew whiter and whiter as the talc proceeded. " That, that my child ! " she murmured at inter- vals, and her head sank lower and lower upon her breast. Even Gonzales and Ward heard with amazement tlie story of Chinita's appearance at the cave where Pedro had lain wounded. "What!" one cried, "has she not been all this time in the house of Dona Carmen ? Did 3'ou not tell us that in a strange freak of impatience she had hastened there?" " It was you, Sefiores, who affirmed it must bo she, I'.l *^i M' ' mmlM m\ '■'; 43G Cf/ATA AND CIIINITA. when 3'ou heard of the young girl who had been taken there, tVoui the Indian wliom you captured as a spy of Kauiirez," answered Pedro, with the humble cunning of tiio true raiicliero ; "and wliy should your servant contradict you, when Chinita herself had commanded otherwise — " "And wliere in God's name is she now?" demanded Ward. " You know who I am. You know all this time 1 could not have rested tranquil had I thought — " *' Have no anxiety, Sefior," answered the man with his old suUenness. "And I swear to 3'ou, Nina, she is safe, quite safe. She is with a woman who can guard her well. She is gone to seek the man who murdered her father. Ah, Niilc , /our daugliter has the blood of the Garcia ; she will avenge you ! " Herlinda sank with a moan. Ashley would have raised her, but Gonzales motioned him back. There was a house at a littli distance where a widow and her daughters dwelt, and thithar he bore her. It was then at the middle hour between midnight and dawn ; and long before light, after a hurried consultation, the three men met again before the widow's door. All ar- rangements had been made for the brief transfer of the conunand of the troops. Gonzales, Ashley, and Pedro acted as outriders for a strong military coach drawn by four fleet mules. Into this stepped Herlinda and the widow, both dressed as respectable gentlewomen ; and be- fore the people of El Toro wakened from their deep sleep tliat followed the excitement of the early night, the travel- lers were far upon the road, and though the way was long and rough vere gaining fast upon the diligence which bore Dona Isabel, her daughter, and Chata. had been taken red as a spy of lo cunning of the ii-vant contradict I otlicrwiso — " ow?" demanded ow all this time 1 the man with his Siiia, she is safe, m guard her well. 3d her father. Ah, } Garcia ; she will would have raised rhere was a house r daughters dwelt, ?ccn midnight and irried consultation, 3w'8 door. AH ar- icf transfer of the Lshley, and Tedro •y coach drawn by llcrlinda and the tlewomen ; and be- )m their deep sleep y night, the travel- 1 the way was long he diligence which hata. XLV. On the evening when Dofia Isabel and her companions set forth from tlie village upon their toilsome pilgrimage to Las Parras, two women leaned against the gate-posts at the entrance to the garden wliere the mistress of Tres llcrmanos and the motUer of the administrador had parted so many years before, and looked wearily along the silent road. One would not have been surprised to hear tliat during all these years no other mortal had approached the place, for the air of neglect it had worn tlien had deepened into that of utter abandonment. It looked not merely dis- used, but actually shunned. The gate had fallen from its hinges and lay broken upon the rank coarse grass and weeds, which thrusting themselves between the bars filled the paths. Thick clumps of cacti and stunted uncultivat- ed fruit and flowers, with manzanita and other common shrubs of the country, had outgrown and outrooted the feebler growths, and almost hid the low front of the solid but dismantled building, upon which the iron-ribbed shut- ters hung forlornly like broken armor on a battered image. The sun and wind and rains had done their work un- checked in all these years, aided by the revolution, which had torn and scathed whatever had attracted its o.eedy hand and then passed on, leaving desolation to continue or repair the work of destruction. The vines, which had at first served as a graceful drapery, hung so heavily on every porch and wooden projection of the house that they had broken down the frail supports, and added to the general appearance of riot and disorder; while their matted masses offered a defiant obstruction to any adven- turous comer. Yet these women had forced a way into the dark and mouldy rooms, and found a certain pleasure and security in their seemingly impenetrable and forbid- ding aspect. " We have been here three days," said the younger, who even in the declining light one might see was a mere l'/I 433 CJ/ATA AND C/f/NITA. kkm girl, while her companion, though flmall, was old in faro and figure, — not with the dignity of actual age, but witli a sort of lithe grace and abandon, which comes from years of free and careless action. " We have been three days waiting, yet ho has not come! You may be mistaken. How can you reclton upon what a man like Ramirez wili do? lie is not like a blind man, always led by his dog upon the same round." " Necessity and habit aro tho dogs that load him," said the woman with a slight laugh. " Fortune is against him ; he has been beaten from ever}' stronghold. 1 know this is the hole he will creep into at last." ''And the people here, they would save him?" said Chinita, musingl}'. " Ho has ever spared them, ever pro- tected them, that ho might have a safe refuge in time of need. Hero, hero, but for us he would be safe? — but for us, Dolores ? " " Ah, he is not tho first who docs not find oven nests where ho hoped to find birds," answered the woman called Dolores. " To-day ho is laughing at tlio little troop of Liberals patrolling these hills ; he will make a way be- tween them. Yes, you will see ; here, here, upon this very road, we shall see him flash by like a meteor, and then bo lost. But my eyes can trace him ; my hand will be able to point the way ho has gone." The woman had unwittingly conjured up a vision that thrilled tho imagination of the listener. " Oh ! " she cried with a sudden gesture of repulsion and weariness, " I am sick of this mean and miserable life. Would to God I had gone to him as I vowed to do. Do not tell mo he would have laughed at my rage ! No, no ! a man could not laugh at the girl who accused him of the murder of her father; who stood before him to remind him of all his secret and unnatural crimes ! Ah, I cannot endure this silent, creeping eranity. Three times already b; our means ho has been tracked and driven from hi' stronghold ; once but for Pope he would have been killed, — Ruiz himself would have killed him ! " "Fox against tiger!" cried Dolores, contemptuously. " Bah ! tho idiot might have known that with tho smell of blood in the air, not oven the shadow of tho cross would save him if he fell into the hands of Ramirez ; CllATA AND C///NITA. 439 wras old in face il ago, but with •incs from years )ccu three days y be iiiiHtaken. ie Ramirez will led by hia dog lead him," said is against him ; 1. 1 kuow this ,vo him?" said them, ever pro- •cfugc in time of sale? — but for : find even nests ne woman called 3 little troop of nako a way be- here, upon this :e a meteor, and Q ; my hand will lip a vision that Oh ! " she cried eariness, *' I am Should to God I I not tell me he lO 1 a man could )f the murder of mind him of all cannot endure mes already b; Iriven from hi' )uld have been him!" contemptuously, t with the smell DW of the cross ds of Ramirez; yet ho nislicd on hin fato. And for Ratnirex there waits lor iiitn a doom more just than death on the battlelleld, — tltough you, who warned i'epu to save him, are but a faint-hearted wiiakling." •' WouUI you have him die without knowing the revenge tliat followed him?" cried Chinita. '' What would death aioue bo to such a man as he? It was you, yourself, who first urged Pope to leave us, — not that he might kill, but if need were save, Ramirez." "It is true," answered Dolores, molUfled ; yet she fixed upon Chinita a long and penetrating gaze, which seemed to read her very soul. ** But you are a strange, strange creature, — a peasant for all your prido. He is still more a grand gentleman to staro at with fear than a murderer and robber to you." Chinita's face turned white. The reproach of the 'voman stung her, yet she felt it was just. " Oh, if I were a man ! " she presently muttered ; " oh, if I were a man 1 " " Yes, the way would have been short then," said Do- lores. " Just a knife-thrust, and the debt would havo been paid. But the revenge of women can be u thousr4nd times more decp: more sweet, if one has the patience to wait." '' Patience I " exclaimed Chinita in that shrill, metallic voice that indicates a mental tension so violent and long continued that every chord of the nervous sj'stem vi- brates painfully at a word. "Have I not had patience? Have I not waited at your bidding until I seem to live in a frenzy of fear lest he should escape, and never hear, never see me, never know who I am ? And what have I gained ? Ruiz is dead ; Pepe perhaps is dead. Ah, if I had spoken ! Had Ramirez known that I live, it might have saved them both ! " The woman's answering laugh had more of scorn than mirth in it. "Be quiet, child!" she said. "You are young. You think Ramirez has a conscience, and that you would havo roused it to torment him. Pshaw ! I will arm you with a better weapon ; a little patience — per- haps to-morrow — and you will see ! " " Mysteries ! always mysteries ! " exclaimed Chinita, with increased impatience. " Santa Maria t why do you not push back that black kerchief from your brows? i'. ft u 5'^ ••'' 1 li ' ii > ' i w '■■^' ti('> ***1 1 t '1 li u 1 :• \ ii , ^ ; 440 CHATA AND CHINITA. Have you the mark of a jealous woman's knife across your forehead? Is your hair white, or — or — " She paused, with a horrid suspicion flashing through her mind. Was this woman, with whom she had daily and nightly associated for weeks, a victim of that species of leprosy known as the " painted " ? Was some dread trace of it to be seen upon that constantly covered head ? Dolores with careless grace had raised and clasped her hands above the unsightly kerchief. The bared arms were clear and fair; only the deep-lined face they encircled looked old, but care, not disease, had marked it. She looked at Chinita through the growing dusk with an inscrutable ex- pression in her almond-shaped and beautiful eyes. They were eyes that still might fascinate at will. Chinita drew a little nearer to her, and sighed deeply. There was a sense' of guilt upon the girl's mind since she had heard of the death of Ruiz ; a sickening apprehension, too, for the fate of Pepe Ortiz. Dolores read her thoughts. She dropped one hand from her head upon the young girl's shoulder. There seemed something magnetic in the touch. Chinita, though she would rather have resisted, yielded to it, — like a net- tle grasped in a strong hand. "Silly one," said the woman soothingly, " fret not yourself for Ruiz. Ramirez knew him better than did j'ou. He had had long years to con the leiison in. It is well for the weak defenceless creatures of the earth that these wild beasts attack and destroy one another ! " Chinita looked unconvinced. In spite of doubts, she had had a certain pride and solace in the belief that Ruiz would prove true to Ramirez, — true through his love for her. She had purposely left him ignorant of the change in her own views and feelings in regard to Ramirez that he might be free to act upon his own impulses and convic- tions. She knew not what she would have had him do, yet all the same he had disappointed her. She had no clews to the motives of Ruiz, other than those Dolores suggested to her, and there was an uncertaint}' and vague- ness overhanging him which made him in her eyes a victim to his love for her, and a fresh cause for accusation of the man who seemed destined utterly to bereave and despoil her. Strangely enough, in her wildest excitement Chinita J knife across _or — " She )ngh her nind. iy and nightly jies of leprosy d trace of it to Dolores with : hands above (vere clear and Led looked old, She looked at inscrutable ex- ul eyes. They Chinita drew a ere was a sense' ,d heard of the too, for the fate pped one hand lioulder. There Chinita, though it, — like a net- one," said the Ruiz. Ramirez id long years to jak defenceless lasts attack and of doubts, she )Ki\\ef that Ruiz lugh his love for of the change io Ramirez that Iscs and convic- ive had him do, , She had no those Dolores [inty and vague- ler eyes a victim jcusation of the tve and despoil fitement Chinita CHATA AND CHINITA. 441 had never formulated for herself any definite mode of ac- tion when she should sec Ramirez, — as see him, accuse, defy him she would ! There had been a conviction in her mind that in her the ghosts of the innocent he had slain, the shame, — which with strange perversity he had shrunk from when it menaced his family pride in the person of llerlinda Garcia, — the contempt and hatred of his wronged sister, would all rise to confront and overwhelm him. That which should follow, time, circumstance would determine ; but that the wild fever of her passion would be satisfied she would not doubt. She had longed with an ever in- creasing excitement to find herself before Ramirez, and to pour forth her wrongs in burning words. Yet this woman Dolores, with a fascination even greater than the uncon- scious one that Ramirez himself had exerted over her, had withheld her from her purpose, had even led her to gain the secrets of the chieftain's plans from his most trusted confidants, — the j'oung girl reddened with shame and anger, yet with flattered vanity, when she remembered that the sight of her beaut}' had been more potent than the gold of Dolores. Chinita had not guessed that she had been purposely employed to act the part of a spy, and had resented deeply the fact that her discoveries had more than once been transmitted to Gonzales, and that her re- venge was supposed to be gratified by the consequent de- feat which had overcome Ramirez. Her longing was for a more dramatic, more direct revenge. Pedro and Dolores could plot and scheme for the silent overthrow of him who had wronged them ; they gloried in their astuteness that made him an unsuspicious victim, while Chinita writhed under it, and only the promise that in Las Parras she should accuse Ramirez face to face had made endurable to her the life of secret intrigue and absolute disguise and constant change that she had led for weeks. The element of peril, it is true, had stimulated her adventurous spirit ; but she would fain have been in tiie midst, not hovering a ready fugitive upon the edge of the fray. When weeks before Chinita had, after her faintncss, opened her eyes in the low, rocky cave in which Pedro lay, it had been to find him an almost unrecognizable mass of wounds and bruises, lying on a sheepskin pallet, gazing at her with wide-distended eyes, and ejaculating 'g i ': 11 K ifi' 442 CIIATA AND CIIINITA. hi\ M .(*- :<^;ll \\\ : V n in tones of dismay, mingled with incredulous delight, "What have I done? Oh God! is it possible that she has come to me, — the miserable, dying Pedro? " "Yes, yes, Pedro, I am here!" she cried staggering to her feet. " Ah, the American thought I had forgotten thee ; but thou wert in my heart all the time that he talked. Ah, though I am of other blood, it is thou that hast saved me ! They would have thrust me out to die. I will cling to thee while thou livest ; I will avenge thee when thou diest!" " Hush ! " muttered Pedro faintl}', as she stooped and kissed his hand, bedewing it with her tears. "Ah, I shall not die, now you have come. Did I not tell you," he asked, turning to a figure beside Chinita, " that I should live if I could know she loved me?" "And this is the girl you have nurtured?" asked the stifled voice ^f a woman. She was not as tall as Chinita, and she held a candle up close to the face of the girl to look at her. Chinita was spent with fatigue ; moreover there were tears on her face, and she resented the in- spection, pushing away the woman's hand rudely. Yet it was not that of a servant, nor of a woman of the lower class. Even in the excitement of the moment Chinita was conscious of wondering who and what this person was. How came she there in the cave among these fugitives ? " But for her I should have been dead already," Pedro was saying. " She has wondrous skill and knowledge of surgery and herbs. But," he added, in a low, apologetic voice, " she knows all. I have talked in my delirium. I could not help it. You will pardon me, — if I die you will pardon me?" " I have nothing to pardon ! " cried Chinita. " What ! you think because ray mother lives T would hide her name ? No, no I I have endured enough for her cowardice and the shame of Doiia Isabel. No, no ! let me but see Ramirez, — this Leon Valle, — and though it be before all the world, I will declare who I am. The American, Ashley Ward, says he will claim me as his cousin. Pepo must ride and tell him I am here, and we will have vengeance together for the cruel deeds of Ramirez. You shall be avenged, Pedro, 3'ou shall be avenged ! " m CHATA AND CHINITA, 443 jdulous delight, lossible that she •edro?" cried staggering 1 1 had forgotten lie time that he 1, it is thou that st uie out to die. will avenge thee she stooped and tears. "Ah, I i I not tell you," ^hinita, "that I tne?" ired?" asked the IS tall as Chinita, face of the girl to atigue; moreover resented the in- and rudel}'. Yet man of the lower moment Chinita what this person ave among these i already," Pedro and knowledge of a low, apologetic my delirium. I — if I die you will hinita. "What! d hide her name ? cowardice and the but see Ramirez, fore all the world, m, Ashley Ward, }p6 must ride and mgeance together ihall be avenged, The sick man's ej'es glistened. As she spoke, Chinita's face had glowed with an unrelenting and cruel intensity of purpose. The woman at her side had never once re- moved her eyes from her. No one was noticing her ; had they done so, they would have beheld an extraordinary series of changes pass over her dark but mobile face, — suspicion, delight, doubt, alarm, conviction. Suddenly she seized Chinita's hand, and pressed it to her heart ; it was beating so tumultuously that the young girl drew back startled. The woman thrust her hands under the loose folds of the black kerchief that draped her head with a sombre yet Oriental grace, then withdrawing them caught a stray lock of Chinita's hair, and burst into a long, low, triumphant laugh. Chinita drew herself awaj', alarmed and offended. Pepe bad come in ; and looking at her anxiously he said, "Nina, do not mind her. Esteban tells me she is a mad woman ; yet she does no harm. She does not know what she talks of, and one moment denies what she has said at another. It would not be strange if she should tell you some dread- ful tale, and afterward laugh, and say grief had made her mad!" " And so it has," cried the woman. " Ah yes, I have been mad ; but that is past. Yes, yes. Life of my soul," turning to Chinita, " how beautiful thou art ! And the hair, it is a miracle ! In all the world thore should be no other with such hair. Thou hast had good fortune, Pedro, to bring up such a child. She is an angel. Ah, it is as if I had seen her all my life ! And thou hast a spirit to match thy face," she added turning again to Chinita. " Thou canst not brook a wrong. Well, well! we will make common cause ; and some day — soon, soon we will stand together before Leon Valle with such a tale, such a revenge, that even he will sink before it. To think that after all these years, I shall turn against him the dagger with which he has pierced me ! " "Who are you? What do you know of me?" cried Chinita, shuddering, though she understood that the weapon of which the stranger spoke was no material tool. " Why should you join with me, or I with you? No, no ; when Pedro is able, we will go away, you your way, and I mine ! " Ml' Lit !•? ■!••; 444 CHATA AND CHINITA. *' Our ways lie together! " cried the woman, excitecllj'. " The one without the other would fail. Oh ! you think me mad, but I am not. I could tell you things, — but no, I will wait; perhaps thou hast not even heard of me. Ah ! how many years is it since I disappeared from the world, that I have been forgotten?" Pedro raised himself upon his elbow painfuU}'^, and gazed at her with a long and eager scrutiny. " I know you now," he said, "though I never saw you but once, and then you were beautiful as the Holy Madonna on the high altar at Pueblo." "Yes," she interrupted; "I am Dolores, whom Valle loved. Ah, you think that strange, because ray beaut}' is gone, and I am old, and like a witch, living in this murky cave! Where else should I go — I, whom he stole away and betrayed, and despoiled and forsook ? " " But you are rich," said Pepe in wonder, and in a tone that seemed to condone the rest. "Rich!" she said scornfull}-. "Rich! yes, for such needs as mine. Rich ! he used to give me jewels a queen might have been proud of. He thought I wasted, lost, destro^'ed them, as he would have done, but I kept them, — kept them for my child. Ah, I knew she would be beau- tiful, would be worthy of the rarest and costliest I could give her. Ah, I would give her jewels ! such jewels as would buy her love, were she as capricious, as hard, as Ramirez himself." Chinita drew back from her, certain loathing upon her face, she said coldly. "You chose wrongs, they can be nothing to mine. with a certain hauteur, a " I have heard of you," your lot. If you have See " — and she pointed to Pedro — " what Ramirez has done but now; while but for his murderous knife my father would have lived, and my mother would not have been obliged to hide her disgraced head in a convent, and I should not have been left a pauper at the gate of my mother's house." "There can be no wrongs greater than these?" said the woman half interrogatively, half affirmatively. "Yet listen ! He stole me away from my husband ; I swear I did not go willingly, though T loved him, — oh my God, how I loved him ! For him 1 died to the world. I forsook the father who was dear to me as life. I lived a life of >man, excitcdlj'. Oh ! you think lings, — but no, n heard of me. peared from the ifully, and gazed know you now," once, and then na on the high res, whom Valle ase my beauty is ng in this murky •m he stole away er, and in a tone i! VC3, for such e jewels a queen i 1 wasted, lost, it I kept them, — 5 would be beau- costliest I could such jewels as )us, as hard, as srtain hauteur, a e heard of you," If you have See " — and she done but now ; her would have 3ecn obliged to nd I should not mother's house." an these?" said natively. " Yet and ; I swear I — oh my God, world. I forsoolc I lived a life of CHATA AND CHINITA. 445 infamy, hiding in obscure villages, in mountain huts, in caves when need were. I bore him children ; but tliey died, — all died as though there was a curse upon them. That angered him ; then he grew cold, then false and cruel. One day a captive was brought into the camp for ransom, — a captive he himself had made. He sent to me to look at the man and to set a price upon his head. I went, as he told me, in gay attire, v/ith jewels blazing on my arms and neck, a ^^adem upon my head. When the prisoner looked up and saw me, with the price of my shame as he thought upon me, he staggered, gasped, and fell down dead. He was my father. M}' senses fled, j'et when another child was born they returned to me. She was strong and beautiful. I clasped m}' treasure ; but my heart burned against her father. I swore I would leave him, that I would hide the child where he never should discover her. Fool ! fool ! that I was ! When I woke next day, for in my weakness I slept, the babe was gone, — dead they told me ; gone too the pretty clothing I had made, the little trinkets I had placed about her neck. But the blessed praj'ers I had bought from the holy nuns of La Piedad were not in vain ! No, no ! wretch, demon, that he was ! " Chinita's heart beat suffocatingly. "What! 3'ou think the child was still living?" she said. "I know it! I know '';!" cried Dolores. "I feel it here, — here in my heart, which beats for her. And some- time, when I find that child, if I do find her, think you she will love me? Think you she will hate her father as I do? Think you she will avenge my wrongs and hers ? " " But if he loved her," said Chinita; "if he meant to separate her from — from such a woman as j'ou had been I Oh, I know you have sufl"ercd, that you have reason for vengeance; but — " she cried lij'stericallv, striking her hands together, terribly moved, she knew not wh}'. The strange woman b"oke into sobs, piteous to hear. Chinita clasped her hands. " But you would not have her — your child — his child — hato the man you loved?" "Hate him!" echoed Dolores. "I would have her hate him with such hate as she would bear toward the fiends of hell. I would have her know him as you know him, — the insatiable monster who wrecked the happiness of 446 CHATA AND CHINITA. ^M a sister too fond, oven when most foull}' wronged, to seize tlie vengeance that was within her grasp. Ah, Dona Isabel it was who set him free to murder, to betray, to wren-jh the child from its maddened mother, and cast it out by the first rude and careless hand that would do his will ! My God ! were 3'ou his child could you have pity ? Would you not feel your wrongs, — the wrongs of th'^ mother who borc you?" Dolores spoke with the wild excitement of one who for years had brooded on this theme. Chinita herself seemed to be struggling with some fantasy of a disordered brain. The woman actually glared upon her, as if on her reply hung her destiny. Overcome by the unexpected demand upon her sympathy, — a demand that the peculiar cir- cumstances of her life made irresistibly impressive, — Chinita shrank with horror at the tumult of emotion which revealed to her mind the possibilities of her own passion- ate nature. " Tell mo no more ! Ask me no more ! " she cried. *' Ah, if I were his daughter ! But no, I am the daughter of Ilerlinda Garcia, and of the man he murdered in secret. Yes, I will seek Ramirez out. I — I — O God ! I know not what I will do, but I will have justice ! revenge I revenge ! " The girl ended with a scream, and fell down, burying her head on Pedro's shoulder. The wounded man, his ghastly face pressed close against her twining hair, looked appealingly to the excited woman who stood over them. There was scorn, rage, intense otfence upon her face ; but slowl}" they died out, and she turned away with the weary .lir of one in whom some periodic excess of passion or iiadness had wrought its work and brought its consequent exhaustion. A half hour later she brought the girl some food, wonderfully dainty for the place and its resources, and gently fed and soothed her. Pepe and Pedro looked on wonderingly. All that had been said had passed so quickly that they had not realized that aught of conse- quence had happened ; but in the quiescent attitude of Chinita, and the strange calm that had fallen upon the ex- cited and erratic woman, they instinctively felt that a new phase of life had begun for them. A new spirit was in future to lead and rule them ; and it dwelt in the frame of CHATA AND CHINITA. 447 ranged, to seize ;p. Ah, Dona ;r, to betray, to her, and cast it at would do liis [ you have pity ? wrongs of th'^ t of one who for a herself seemed iisordered brain. ; if on her reply xpected demand che peculiar cir- ^ impressive, — )f emotion which her own passion- )re!" she cried, am the daugliter irdered in secret. O God ! I know iistice! revenge! II down, burying )unded man, his ning hair, looked tood over them, on her face ; but y with the weary 3S of passion or lit its consequent ^ht the girl some lid its resources, jnd Pedro looked had passed so aught of conse- ccnt attitude of len upon the ex- [y felt that a new lew spirit was in t in the frame of this half-crazed woman, who had declared herself mistress of the cave. Tlie men thenceforth seemed led by a spell ; and to the same spell Chinita gradually succumbed. This had been the first meeting of Chinita with the woman who stood talking with her nearly two months later at the garden gate of Las Parras. They had left the cave weeks before, — Pepe and Pedro, the latter still bruised and maimed, to join the troops of Gonzales ; and Cliinita, unable to resist the influence of Dolores, followed rebclliously with swift and unerring movement the fortunes of Ramirez. By what arguments Pedro had been won to consent to separate from his foster-child, and to main- tain silence concerning her to Ashley, can be but guessed ; though certain it is that Chinita on her part reminded him of the promise he had made Herlinda to protect her child from Doiia Isabel, to whose care she justly suspected Ashley Ward would strive to return her. Meanwhile Dolores adroitly fostered in the girl's mind that hope of a peculiar and swift revenge, which was to satisfy at once tlie many wrongs that in those diverse lives were clamor- ous for justice ; while an intense anticipation urged the gatekeeper to hasten without delay to join the Liberal army, — the anticipation of that event which presented to his mind such wondrous possil)ilities. The convents once opened, would Herlinda claim her child? Would she by some strange miracle confront Leon Valle and her proud mother with the proof of that which Ashley Ward had in spite of adverse law and custom declared still pos- sible, — 'the proof of her marriage with the American who had been slain without accusation, without the possibility of defence? Pedro could not reason ; he could but doggedly wait, and guard with silent fidelity and ferocity the charge that had been given him. That a superior intelligence, an un- declared authorit}^ potent as an armed power, had for a time wrested Chinita from him, made him only the more tenacious when once again he held her in his grasp. His foster-child while in the mountains with the woman whose life was bound in the same interests, the same mj'sterics, as her own, was safe from the possibilities of removal from his cognizance. Pedro was asked no questions which he cared not to Wi Mm : in 448 CI/ATA AND CHINITA. m\ t ii'i I { ' i'^ answer, when he presented himself among the Liberal forces. Ashle}', tranquil in the belief that Chinita was with Dona Carmen in Guanapila, avoided more than casual mualiou of uui nurac ; and Pedro jealously' guarded his secret, and patiently waited the moment he super- stitiously believed would come, — the moment which, when it did come, gave him the sharpest sting he had ever K? own in his stoical existence; when Herlinda Garcia ijr A in uncontrollable horror and dismay, "What! you, — you have brought up my child ? She was given to you I " On the journey from El Toro there was but one thought in the mind of him who had served with such blind faitli- fulness. For the first time a doubt tormented him. *' Would the beautiful, uncontrollable idol of his heart sat- isfy the longing — the years of longing — of the woman who freed from her bonds was hastening to claim her daughter and acknowledge her before the world ? " As the hours passed, Pedro shunned the eyes of Herlinda, though they looked upon him with a grateful atlection that should have been at once an invitation to confi- dence and a recompense of his long fidelity. Yet with the remembrance of Chinita ever before him, the glance of Herlinda seemed that of accusation and reproof. Her words rang like a knell in his heart. He, who knew the vices and virtues of the two castes which he and the still beautiful woman represented, knew that like oil and water they were irreconcilable, and understood the full significance of that involuntary cry, " What 1 yow, — you have brought up my child ? " m ' )ng the Liberal lat Chinita was dcd more than ialousl}' guarded •ment he super- lent which, wlien iig lie had ever aerlinda Garcia ■f, "What! you, e was given to , but one thought such blind faith- tormented hira. [ of his heart sat- — of the woman ng to claim her he world?" As yes of Ilerlinda, grateful attection atation to confi- lelity. Yet with him, the glance id reproof. Her He, who knew which he and the that like oil and erstood the full hat I you, — you XLVI. A LEAGUE or less from the village of Las Parras tiicrc stood — and perhaps still stands — a s all chapel, built, no one knows in fulfilment of what iloi vow, at the entrance to a mountain pass of the oug'ust and most dangerous sort alike from the forces of Nature and of hunianit3\ Likely enough some rich hidalgo, escaping from brigands, raised here the humble pile, and vowed that the lamp should ever burn 1 fore the Virgin and her blessed Child. But through tLj long j^ears of war, as a pious ranchera had said in holy horror, the blessed Babe had remained in darkness. But some time after mid- night, one rainy night, a sudden flash of flame lighted up not only the dingy altar but the whole of the small mouldy interior of the chapel, and a scene was revealed which a passing monk might have viewed with reverence, so nearly must it have copied one tliat maj' have been common enough when Joseph and Mary journeyed to Jerusalem, eighteen hundred j'ears and more ago. This thought indeed enteied the mind of a man who riding through the drizzling rain caught a glimpse of the unusual light through the unguarded doorwa}', and reining his horse gazed curiously in. At first the place seemed to him full of women and jaded beasts ; then he saw there were but four of each, and that one of the human creatures was a man, — a priest. The women, — good heavens ! they were the Senora Doiia Isabel Garcia, and the girl whom he had once seen under circumstances almost as extra- ordinary, — she whom he knew as the daughter of Ramirez and the foster-child of Don Rafael. Of the other woman he scarcely thought, yet he instinctively guessed she was Dona Carmen. Ashley Ward looked round in bewilder- ment. Only that day some definite account of what had occurred at Tres Herinanos had reached him, told by a man who had been with the administrador and his mother 29 Ill . 450 C//ATA AND CHINITA. m M:;; 1: , f in their vain cndcftvors to trace tlio girl who had been so boldly spirited away. The search had been long (h'liiycd because of the illness of Dona Feliz ; but once l)eure, no man just, you thus brought in an instant desolation and ruin upon me ! " Ramirez slirank before tlie indi'jjnant pathos of her voice. "Ah," she added, " all, all this I would for- give — O God, have I not prayed to thee and thy saints for grace to forgive? — if I could but behold ray child. They tell me she has followed 3'ou, — one saN's because of the strange infatuation your mad career presents to her ; another, that she may avenge her wrongs, her father's murder. I warn you ! beware ! such 2. girl is not to be scorned." "I know noihing of her," cried Ramirca, vehemently. "Here is your mother — Pedro; tlnjy have known the girl, they should render you an account of her. As for me, there is a man here who upot: the grave of him I killed declared himself his avenger : it is to him I will answer for that deed." Ashlev Ward involuntarilv drew his sword, eager for the offered combat ; but Pedro and Gonzales threw them- selves between the two men. " This is neither the time nor tiic place," exclaimed Gonzales- • while llerlinda cried, "Do not touch my uncle for your life! My mother, my motli'jr ! " Doiia istV /I had indeed thrown herself upon her knees before the i.>"> st, and frantically imploreci his interposi- tion. As he raised her he was seen to speak ; but no one heard his words, for shrill female voices in altercation added to the confusion of the moment, and every eye was turned in the direction whence they came. " Let me go ! let me go ! I will bear no more ! I will wait no longer ! He will escape. Oh, it is not with such weak words I will speak ! " Two female hgnres issued panting from the covert, — it seemed that the elder woman had striven to hold the other buck, but the j^ounger had triumphed. Dona Isa- bel uttered a cry of infinite gratitude and joy. Chata caught and held the girl as she came. " Chinita ! thank God," she cried, " 30U are here ! " Pedro in an ecstasy seized the robe of Herlinda. " There, there," he cried, " is your child ! your beautiful child ! " in your vile, pure, no man ition and ruin jnant pathos of is I would for- and thy saints liold my cliild. lays because of •esents to her ; s, her fatlier'a rl is not to be 33, vehemently, ive known the )f her. As for JiSLVii of him I s to him 1 will vrord, eager for les threw them- icither the time Ilerlinda cried, My mother, my upon her knees [1 liis interposi- ak ; but no one in altercation d every eye was 10 more ! I will s not with such ihe covert, — it m to hold the ed. Dona Isa- ud joy. Cliata Chinita! thank D of Herlinda. your beautiful CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 459 *' Yes ! " cried Chinita in mad excitement which only burning words could relieve. Not then could she pause for fond greetings or reverent tears ; the sight of Ramirez seemed at once to fire yet absorb her wildest passions. She sprang toward him, as one may suppose the lion's whelp faces a tiger that in some fierce struggle has filled the air with the scent of blood. The very aroma arouses and maddens its kindred nature. With an outburst of eloquence which like arrows tipped with venom seemed to sting and paralyze the object upon which the}' were directed, she assailed Ramirez with the story of his crimes ; and separated from the picturesque arid daring events that had accompanied and disguised them, and told with dram- atic eloquence and vivid anger, they thrilled every listener with shuddering abhorrence and dismay. Blackest- of all, she pictured the murder of John Ashley. Ramirez himself seemed visibly to shrink and wither before her scathing words, while Herlinda pressed her hands over her ears, entreating her to cease. The agonized woman could not endure the vivid rendition, for the girl unconsciously acted out, as she conceived, the scene of midnight murder. From the moment of Chinita's appearance, Ramiroz had seemed overwhelmed as by the sight of some vki- earthly being ; and while she spoke his eyes riveted their- selves upon her, his jaw fell, liis countenance took the bcc' v.f death. Suddenly the girl burst into wild sobs t ud tears. Her rage was spent. " Go, go ! " she said. - " you who have cursed my life, you who killed my father, you who condemned my mother to a convent and me t<> a beggar's life; for was it strange tliey cast me out, hoping I should die ? And so I should have done but for Pedro — Fiend, to pursue him with devilish tortures after so many years ! Oh ! that it was which brought my hate upon you. Ah, I had loved you from a child, — not with a woman's fancy, but as though the thought of you were the very soul that vvr^s born with me. Of you I thought, for you I prayed — was it not so, Chata ? It was I who gave you the anuilet they said would insure life and for- tune. I planned and schemed to give you wealth and power. Ah, even when I knew the cursed wrong you had done me, I <:ould not believe, I couhl not realize ; that murdertid man had been dead so long he seemed of an- i^ m- ti": If , f 400 CIIATA AND CHINITA. other world, another time, — he seemed nothing to me. But the torture ot" Pedro, — ah, that was real, tiiat was of my life ; it maddened me. Ah ! ah ! ah ! it brought your downfall. You have wondered how your skill, your well-laid plans, your valor, all have failed you. It was because of me ! because of us ! " Chinita turned and indicated her companion with a ges- ture of her hand. She saw then what had riveted tlie gaze of Ramirez, and rather tlian lier words had held each wit- ness dumb. Dolores — her face kindled into fictitious youtli, her beautiful eyes gleaming with a flame that seemed to scatlie — had drawn from her brows the kerchief she had worn. The act had revealed a wondrous mass of brown hair, with the russet tinge of the chestnut, gleaming in the sunlight with threads and spirals of gold. The two heads, that of Chinita and of the woman, seemed to have been modelled the one from the other, so exact was their form, and so similar the texture and color and peculiar giovvtii of the marvellous wealth of curls that crowned them both. Chinita drew back with dilated ej'es, speechless with the overwhelming horror of conviction. Chata would have clasped her in her arms, but she drew herself away. In the woman whose wild laugh rang upon the air Chata rr'cognized the one wiio had thrown herself before the horse of Ramirez, and who had lain a bruised and sliameful figure upon the convent steps at El Toro. There was a moment of profound silence. Even the sultry air seemed waiting, as though for the thunderclap that follows tlie lightning flash. " Ah, Loon Vallc ! you know now who accuses you," cried the woman. "Oh, is not this a sweet revenge, to curse you by the lips of your own child, — the clul(l you rol)bod me of? Wliat! you thought thtt your child!" siio pointed with ineffable contempt to Chata, who in tiie overwhelming excitement of the moment clung to the pal- lid and tre.'nt)ling Ilerlinda. " Bah I what is she to tlie beautiful being I bore you, — into whose soul was infused the idolatrous love that had lieen wrested from my heart, the love tliat liad been my ruin ? Ah, such love dies hard ! It lived again in her, — it lived in her heart for you. Be- cause of it I dartd not claim her, thougli I knew her the nothing to mo. real, that was ah ! it brouglit >'our sliill, your I you. It was lion with a gca- iveted the gaze I held cacli wit- fictitious youtli, tliat seemed to srchief she had mass of brown it, gleaming in jold. The two jeemed to liavc exact was their )r and peculiar J that crowned I apccchless with Chata would herself away, n the air Chata self before the bruised and El Toro. ►ce. Even the he thunderclap accuses you," et revenge, to -the child you t your child ! " ata, who in the ung to the pnl- , is she to the ul was infused from ray heart, love dies hard ! t for you. Be- knew her the CHATA AND CIIINITA. 401 moment my ej'cs fell upon her, — 3'cs, as j'ou know her now. In whom but in our child could be reproduced this wonderful wealth of hair you used to call the siren's dowtir? In whom but in our child could reappear your own face, glorified, masked, by woman's softness? Ah, Dona Isabel and this I'edro were deceived ; they thought it was the beauty of Ilerlinda that they saw. But 1 knew it to be yours. Ah, in all these weeks I iiave taught your child how to hate you ; I have plucked out fliat root of love ; 1 have made more real the fancied wrongs of which she has accused 3'ou. Trifies ! trilles ! trifies all ! — the mur- der of a supi)osed father.^ the torture of an old man, the death of a base lover, — yes, that Kuiz to whom from her birth you destined her. But I, — 1 cry to you give back my innocence ! give back my" ruined life ! give back my father, who by your act was killed as surely as though your hand had struck the blow ! give me the young years of my daughter's life, those she s(|uandered a beggar at your sister's gate! Ah, you cannot, you cannot! But I, — I can avenge my wrongs and hers." Quick as a Hash the infuriate woman levelled a pistol. Quick as an answering flash Chinita threw herself before her and sprang to her father's breast. A second shot following so quickly on the first that they seemed as one, a cry of agon}', a scream of madness, the cries of woinen, the hoarse voices of men, made the garden a pandemonium of hideous sounds. The desperate woman, whose bullet had touched its mark harmlessly to Ran*irez through the slender form of Chinita, fied madl}'. Ramirez, scarce conscious whether the blood which streamed over him was that of his daughter or his own, bore the wounded girl through the throng that i)resHed him, wildly calling upon his child, — alas, alas! iiis but for the brief span during which her warm J'oung blooil should leap from the deadly puncture in her breast ! Herlinda, the first to regain self-control even amid tne intense revulsion of feeling through which she had almost instantaneously passed, tore into .siu-eds some porlion of her garments and strove to stanch the wound ; but in vain. Chinita, with a smile which succeeded her first wild cry and stare of horror, motioned her away. She pressed her own fingers on the wound, raisiiig her head j 4G2 CIIATA AND CHINITA. '^"»i.>! Elft!|.,i from the arm of Ramirez to say, "I saved you, I saved 3'ou ! just as 1 used to think I would do. Ah, I could not hato you, — no, no! though I tried. And she could not root out my love, — it lives here still." She pressed her hand still tighter on the wound. "My father! my lather ! " The face of the hardened man contracted in agony. He turned toward Dona Jsabel and Ilerlinda with a heart- rending cry. " You are avenged, — both, both, avenged ! O my God ! You never can have known such agony as this. Oh wretched man that I am, to see the sum of all my crimes cancelled by this terrible reprisal ! " The hand of the dying girl fell from its place. Chata knelt and placed her own with desperate energy against the fatal wound. Chinita smiled and faintly kissed her. *' My dream has come true," she said. " Ah, when they pity me you will say, ' She always longed to die for him.' Tell them it was best that I should die, I loved him so. Death wipes out ever^' wrong. He is my father ! " Ramirez groaned. Great drops of sweat stood on his brow. He strove still to support her ; but Gonzales on the one side and Ashley on the otlier bore her weight. By this time the garden was i'uU of people. A man forced his way through the throng. " Reyes ! Reyes ! " cried Ramirez, " Villain, did j'ou not as I commanded give my child to Isabel, my sister; or was yours the accursed hand that brought her to this pass ? " Reyes gazed at the dying girl in horror. A suspicion of the misapprehension under which Ramirez had acted, and which had confirmed Ruiz in his treachery, had haunted him for days, since in a remote village he had mot the administrador of Trcs Hermanos and heard from him the tale of the carrying away of Chata. He had iiastened toward Las Parras with Don Rafael and his mother, bent on warning Ramirez and confessing the wild carelessness with which he had disposed of the child who had been confided to him, and who he had supposed until his meeting with Chinita had indirectly reached the peison to whom she was destined. It had not been possible for him — a man in whom the paternal instinct had never dwelt — to imagine it the o.ie virtue in the callous, fierce. CI/ATA AND CHINITA. 4G3 I you, I saved Ab, I could \.nd she could She pressed ly father 1 my ;ted in agony, a with a heart- Doth, avenged I such agony as the sum of all I!" 1 place. Chata energy against itly kissed her. Ah, when they to die for him.' 1 loved him so. ather 1 " it stood on his lit Gonzales on her weight, eople. A man ain, did you not , my sister; or rht her to this ♦. A suspicion irez had acted, treachery, had village he had ind heard from uita. He had Rafael and his essing the wild f the child who supposed until jhcd the peison ?en possible for ,inct had never callous, fierce. and unscrupulous Ramirez. But with this bleeding, dying figure in his arms Ramirez seemed transformed. Reyes fell on his knees. " Ah, had you but told mo the whole truth!" sighed the dying girl. " A Garcia you said I Ah, 1 should have been prouder to be his daughter than a thousand times Garcia ! " She turned her head, and her eyes fell on Ashley's face and rested there. A soft, strange illumination animated her own, as though from some inward light just kindled. " Adios ! Adios ! " she murnuu'ed. " Ah, you were noble, generous ! yet you thought I did not feel, that I did not understand. Ah, could I live, you should see ! But this is best ; you will never need trouble now for Chinita. No, no, no ! do not grieve — Ah, that might make me weak ! I would not — find it — hard — to die." She looked at him long and fixedly, — perhaps to her as to Ashley a secret as sacred as it was precious, was then revealed. A blueness crept around her mouth, a glaze over her beautiful eyes. " No wonder that she loved the \merican ! " she whispered at length, — dreamil}', as though her mind wandered to the past. The words sank like lead in Ashley's heart, to be forgotten never, never I After a moment the lips of the dying girl moved in prayer. The priest, who had from time to time endeavored to control an emotion which seemed a personal rather than a merely sympathetic grief, bent over her, and all present fell on their knees. Chinita whispered in his car a few words, and received absolution with a smile of perfect peace. Then began the solemn litany for the departing soul ; Chinita was evidently sinking rapidl}'. Pedro had fallen on his knees before her, in grief too deep for words. Pepe from behind him gazed into her glazing eyes with stoical despair. Suddenly she smiled, and laying her arm over Pedro's shoulder, extended her blood-stained hand, looking at Pepe with the prett}', win- ning, disdainful smile of old, and said faintly, though proudly, " I am the daughter of the Seiior General. Lead me, Pepe, — lead me. I am tired ! " And thus with her arm around him who had been so blindly faithful, and with her hand in that of the peasant 4G4 C II ATA AND CHINITA. youth who throuyih life Imd boon her adoring slave, with one long sigh, whioii left her lips smiling as it passed, Chinita fell asleep, —resting forever from the '^assion and turmoil of life. " Peace, peace, peace ! " reiterated the soletj:^. vclce of the priest, in assurance, in warning, in invocation. It penetrated hearts to which the very word had seemed a mockery. The hardest, the most reprobate, the haugh- tiest, the most sorrowful, repeated it with a sob. Rami- rez on his kriees, crushed to the earth, heard it as the cry of a despairing augel. Where for him could peace be found ? \l I j ' \ <■;■'• r f'l.f ng slave, with as it passed, ho "»assiou and olev!'.'. v'jice of invocation. It ■d had scenu'd ate, the haugli- a sob. Ratni- leard it as tbe could peace be XLVII. When Pedro Gomez rose fVom his knees he held in his hand a little square reliquary of faded blue. The string from which it had hung had been pierced by the fatal bul- let, and it had dropped unheeded from Chinita's neck. Reverent hands bore the corpse into the desolate house ; while Ramirez, or Leon Valle, — for by his true name ho was ever after called, — rising at the entreaty of his sister, stood like one bereft of sense or movement. Suddenly he laid his hand upon the gatekeeper's arm and muttered hoarsely, " Kill me Pedro ! See, I have no sword. If thou wilt not for vengeance, do it for love. You loved ,her, — for her sake end my misery 1 " Pedro laid the reliquary in his hand. *' If it should not be true? " he said doggedly of the faded silk. " Oh, was it for this I bore so many years the mocking silence of Doila Feliz and m}'^ mistress? No, no! it cannot be. Open this. 'Twas on her bosom when she came into my hands. The niSa Herlinda promised me a token. It will be found there, — there in the blessed reliquary. Fool that I was to think it had nothing to declare to me. Ah, how your hands shake ! Well, 't is but a moment's work." The gatekeeper ripped the sewed edges with his dagger's point quickly, desperately, as though he were profaning a sacred thing, — then blankl;, looked at the worthless trifles on his palm. Just a tiny curl of brown and gold, and the eye-tooth of some animal, a fancied charm against infantile diseases, both wrapped in a paper scrawle^' with a faintly-written prayer. Pedro was convinced. Till then he had clung to the belief that had given to his clownish life the elements of heroism, of love and sacrifice. Chinita the beautiful, the beloved, was dead — dead; but to his soul there came a bereavement far more terrible than that of death. He 30 &. •^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I l;^ |2.8 |50 '''^™ 2.5 2.2 III 1.8 1-25 1.4 1.6 — = »» ^ 6" ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WiST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 466 CHATA AND CHINITA. !'(. I- ii i ii ■-«>■ '1: raised his glazing eyes appealingly, hopelessly. Ah, there was Dona Feliz, — she whom all these years he had accused as the hard, unpitylng witness of the degra- dation of Herlinda's child ! and of her Dona Isabel with sobs was entreating brokenly in God's name some news of the charge she had received j'^ears before. Pedro listened with a jealous eagerness, which the involuntary cry ol Chata, interrupting for a moment the answering voice of Doiia Feliz, made intolerable. "Mother of God!" he cried at length, "it was Dofia Feliz then who guarded Herlinda's child!" " O false, cruel Feliz ! why did you deceive me? " cried Dona Isabel. "Why did you suffer me to believe the gatekeeper's foundling was of my own flesh and blood? Ah, God, so she was ! It was the beauty of my mother that deceived me ; it was repeated in the offspring of Leon, as it could never be in that of the American. Ah, it was for that I loved Chinita with such passionate tenderness and remorse! Oh, why did you suffer it? Why give me no warning? And now Chinita is dead, and my daughter cries to me for her child, and I cannot answer her." "Did I not warn you at this gate?" responded Dofia Feliz, " that the day would come when you would bitterly repent the words you uttered ; when you bade me take and hide the babe even from your knowledge, — never to men- tion her whether living or dead, that to you it might be as though she had never existed ? Have I not obeyed your Jnandate? Ay, even when my heart bled because I saw the agony, the delusion under which you labored, I have suffered with you, but I have beien faithful." • Doiia Isabel bent her head in speechless woe. For her there might not be even the poor consolation of reproach. Yet she murmured, " In pity, where is Herlinda's child?" " She is here. Thank God she is here 1 " replied Doiia Feliz, — this girl whom you have believed to be the daugh- ter of my son. " Weeks ago your brother, Leon Valle, reft her 'from us, believing her his own. Only by re- vealing the secret We had sworn to keep could Rafael have saved her. Ah, God knows I Perhaps at the last moment, when hastening from the strong room she threw herself into the power of the ravisher that she might save CHATA AND CHINITA. 467 pelessly. Ah, these years he >s of the degra- afia Isabel with le some news ol Pedro listened aluntary cry ol wering voice of of Godl" he n who guarded Bive me?" cried s to believe the lesh and blood? ty of my mother flfspring of Leon, can. Ah, it was mate tenderness it? Why give \ dead, and my I cannot answer responded Dofia on would bitterly lade me take and — never to men- ou it might be as not obeyed your because I saw I labored, I have 3S woe. For her tion of reproach, erlinda's child?" ! " replied Dofia to be the daugh- her, Leon Valle, Only by re- ep could Rafael irhaps at the last room she threw it she might save her foster-father from death, then perhaps his will might have failed ; but he was speechless. I have been ill ; yes, near to death," — her haggard face, her sunken eyes, her wasted figure attested that, — '* yet we sought her far and near. Until last night we had no tidings. A rough soldier listened in the inn to the tale we everywhere proclaimed. He came to me secretly ; ' Senora,' he said, ' tho girl you seek is perhaps in the house of Dona Carmen. Ramirez himself is deceived.' This was the first stage of our route to Guanapila. We need go no farther ; for standing there, Herlinda, with Carmen, is your child." Dona Feliz broke into sobs, sinking weak as a child into the arms of Don Rafael. " The struggle is over," she said to him ; '" our task is accomplished, the long dis- simulation is ended ! " Herlinda and Chata had not needed the conclusion of the brief words of Dofia Feliz ; thej'^ had clasped each other in a rapturous embrace. But the sobs of the dis- tressed lady recalled them from their joy, and hastening to her side they poured out in fervent gratitude such words as. seemed to repay to her sensitive heart its long years of devotion as truly as though each word had been a priceless jewel. " Ah ! " said Dona Feliz, " all, all is nothing to merit the happiness of this hour. It is the poor Pedro, he whose matchless devotion mocked my poor work, who is worthy of such words as these. Ah, my heart bled for him, but I could not, dared not speak." "Oh foolish unreasoning girl that I was so to bind you ! " cried Herlinda. She turned to speak to Pedro, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was a movement among the villagers, who, repulsed from the windows of the house by the Soldiers, began to disperse, when the voice of the priest stopped them. " Listen, friends," he said. " This has been a dread and fearful hour, an hour to try the souls of men. I am old, yet never have I known such anguish as this daj'^ has brought to me. Some sixteen years ago, a stranger in this land, ignorant of its language and customs, I came to this village with a younf^ American whom I met. He was a handsome youth an i won my heart, — a warm, Irish heart that often led me contrary to my judgment. The Amor- 468 CHATA AND CHINITA. m If ' ican told me that here his love was staying. I laughed at him for fixing his heart upon some brown-skinned, dark- eyed peasant girl. He did not contradict me, but bade me be ready in the early morning to wed him to the lovely object of his youthful passion. I remonstrated, yet was glad to serve him. Though no priest lived here, the little church was open ; the people were glad of the oppor- tunity to hear Mass. Just before it began, John Ashley and Herlinda Garcia were married. As she for a moment loosened the reboso she wore to make the necessary re- sponses, I caught a glimpse of*a face that led me to sus- pect it was no simple peasant who stood before me. Yet it was only in p,fter years, when the requirements of the law and the customs unalterable as law among the differ- ent castes existing in your land became known to me, that I remembered with disquiet the marriage I had cele- brated here. I was a missionary among the tribes of Northern Indians, doing good work. I strove to assure myself that, irregular as I knew the marriage to be, — con- tracted in secret, unknown to and probably against the consent of the young girl's parents, in a language unintel- ligible to the few witnesses, — the parties were probably living in amity, satisfied, as surely God and man might be, with a marriage which only the quibbles of the law made disputable. Yet I could not be at ease ; a voice seemed calling me hither. Alas, alas ! I came but to wit- ness the consummation of the tragedy begun years, years ago, — a tragedy, the direct outcome of my fatal error. But I will atone. I will go — would to God in pen- ance it might be upon my knees — to the Holy Father in Rome, and pray him to ratify the marriage. Doiia Herlinda Garcia, pure in name as in deed, shall give a spotless name to the child of her virtuous love ! " The old monk ceased ; tremblingly he wiped away his tears. " Pardon, pardon ! " he murmured to Herlinda. *' Oh my daughter, how you have euflered ! But daughter, the certificate I gave, — had you not the paper? That, however subject to cavil, would have declared your purity." " Ah, a paper ! " cried Herlinda. " I have thought of it a thousand times. It was in English. I thought it was a blessed prayer, though John told me to treasure it as my r-A CHATA AND CHINITA. 469 I laughed at ikinned, dark- me, but, bade 1 to the lovely •ated, j^et was bere, the little [)f the oppor- , John Ashley for a moment necessary re- led me to sus- sfore me. Yet rements of the long the differ- known to me, ige I had cele- ; the tribes of ;rove to assure jetobe, — con- )ly against the nguage unintel- were probably md man might )les of the law ease; a voice ame but to wit- un years, years my fatal error. 5 God in pen- le Holy Father arriage. Doiia eed, shall give lous love ! " wiped away his " to Herlinda. But daughter, paper? That, declared your have thought of I thought it was reasure it as my d life ; that was why I sewed it in the reliquary I placed about my baby's neck." With a cry Chata drew forth the tiny bag, almost the counterpart of that poor Chinita had worn, and the sight of which had confirmed the mistake of Pedro, — on such slight things hangs fate ! She thought of how often slie and Chinita had compared them when children, laughingly proposing to exchange or open them, yet ever shrinking from tampering with them in superstitious awe. Pedro, who had returned, snatched it from her hand, — the act irresistible. As he opened it with his dagger^s point, a filigree earring fell into his palm. He groaned and turned away. Herlinda caught from his hand a tattered paper. " Read, read ! " she cried to Ashley. " See that he was noble, true as you have said ! He was my husband ! " The proof attested by the signature of the long dead Mademoiselle La Croix, and that of the living priest, was of the simplest, the most eiHcient, and all these years had been preserved by the piety or superstition of the child to whom it had been confided, and who, had she but known it, had so vital an interest in its discovery. Chata gazed at the naper in blank amaze. Around her we?'e men and women giving thanks to God and his saints. At th j! knees of Herlinda was her uncle Leon Valle and Dona Isabel her mother. Ashley Ward was the first to break the spell. He took Herlii Ida's hand. " Remember, here is a man who never doubted you," he said. " And here one who would have died for you! " said Gonzales. In a single phrase each had expressed the loyalt}'^ of the nation he represented, — Ashley, that of faith in man's honor and woman's chastit}' ; Gonzales, the tenacious love that distrust might change to jealous madness, but which it could never destroy. Within a few hours a sad and solemn funeral cortege set forth from Las Pan-as, bearing all that was mortal of the beautiful Chinita. Not far from the limits of the town Ashley and Gonzales came upon a startling and awful sight, — a woman lay dead upon the road, her garments 470 CHATA AND CHINITA. sodden, her beautiful hair defiled by the mud of the high- way. She had fallen face downward. As though some evil omen warned him, Leon Valle hastening from the rear anticipated them in raising the corpse. It was that of the maddened Dolores. It had needed no weapon to reach her heart; despair and agony had summoned to her destruction the swift and fatal malady that had killed her father. Those who saw her, he wh j pressed her wildly to his breast and bade her live, accus- ing himp^elf not her, called it a broken heart. As her child had said, " Death wipes out every wrong." Only remorse, pity, love survive. They buried them both — the two of that sad name Dolores — in the hacienda church. But one lies in a nameless grave, and the other is marked by one that recalls a vision of a beautiful girl, to whom a happier destiny should have brought the joys of life, and whose proud spirit should have conquered its cares ; yet its per- plexities, its conllicting passions, had made the pilgrimage so hard, so set with thorns, that she had been content) — yes, thankful — to end it there : *' Chinita." In so short a life the unfortunate girl could not have wandered far from heaven ; yet for years there was one on earth who spent upon each day long hours of prayer and fasting at the tomb of her brother's child, — to the memory and the name of Chinita uniting that of Leon, and embracing both in the undying love which looked beyond the grave for its perfection and its reward. At evening would come one older, but more peaceful than the mourn- er, to lead her home ; and hand in hand, the two would pass out into the soft and tranquil air. Thus Doiia Isabel and Feliz renewed with tears the friendship of their 3'outh ; and thus — ended the ambitions, the passions, the im- petuous pride, sources of such strange and grievous per- plexities — they await together in peaceful gloom the light of a perfect day. ud of the high- s though BOine ining from the It had needed and agony had id fatal maladj' aw her, he wh j her live, accus- •t. As her child Only remorse, that sad name b one lies in a 2d by one that rhom a happier life, and whose res ; yet its per- e the pilgrimage been content — could not have 1 there was one hours of prayer child, — to the lat of Leon, and I looked beyond •d. At evening than the mourn- , the two would hus Dona Isabel ) of their youth ; issions, the im- id grievous per- l gloom the light XLVIII. It was thus that Ashley Ward and his bride beheld them in after years, — years dunng which he had returned to the United States to take part in that great conflict which had been raging there while he had been gaining experience in the irregular and inglorious strife in which his zeal for lib'^rty had been stimulated by private aims. The purity oi his patriotism was unstained, however, by any less glorious motive ; and during the last two years of the Civil War for the Union there was none who fought more valiantly than he, nor one who laid down his sword with a more just renown, to dedicate himself to the pro- fession which in the lack of fortune was both his choice and a positive need. That Ward should renounce the fortune of John Ashley vras an actual grief to Herlinda and to Chata herself, but he would have it so ; and even Mary Ashley was pleased it should be, although, as she said, her niece was already most absurdly wealthy in right of the Garcias for a girl of such retired and humble tastes, — one whose only ex- travagance was in her charities. Mary Ashley found in the love of Chata — she soon abandoned the attempt to call her by the stately name of Florentina — a recom- pense for the scrupulous conscientiousness which had led her to seek the supposed wife and possible child of her brother. It was not until after the Pope had ratified her marriage that Herlinda Ashley visited the home of her husband's family. After that she returned at intervals while Chata was being educated as her aunt desired. During that time Gonzales, from whose hand Herlinda had received the Papal edict, was fighting anew the battles of freedom on his native soil ; and by his side, doing gallant deeds unstained by crime, was Leon Vallc. But when the short- 472 CffATA AND CHINITA, 11 i ,t . i ■ m m lived empire of Maximilian was orerthrown, when Her- linda crowned the long fidelity of Gonzales by following tlie rare example given by a few released nuns and became the wife of the Liberal soldier, the silent yet resolute man who had been his constant companion in arms dipappeared, and with him Pedro Gomez. No Dne but Rosario, who as the wife of Don Alonzo took the lead among the ycang and idle wives of the haci- enda employes, asked any questions concerning the dis- appearance of Leon Vall^. Dofia Rita looked wise, and Don Rafael smiled at her, for she knew nothing, and could conjecture nothing that might bring evil. Rafael was the same indulgent, easy husband he had ever been. It did not occur to either that a more perfect confidence might have been observed between them, — th had followed custom; what more could be needful? Chata and her mother sometimes talked of Vall^ with wondering pity ; but they saw that Dofia Isabel was con- tent, — his fate was not a mystery to her. Perhaps he was wandering in foreign countries. At least, after he had gained the new, fresh fame which honored the name of Leon Vall^, he was no more seen in Mexico. There was but one thought that troubled the heart of Chata. She could not, even for Chinita's sake, forgive the murderer of her father. It was when Ashley Ward had gained a certain assur- ance of success and ultimate wealth, that he wooed and won the object of his early, generous search, his early pro- tecting interest, his later love. In the heart of Chata no rival fiame had ever glowed ; Ashley had been her first, her only love. And he perhaps was scarcely conscious that the pang which ever came at the sound of one almost sacred name, was the throb of a scar where love had set its deathless root. Chata never suspected that an uncom- mon grief had made possible the tranquil happiness which she shared with her husband ; while he never questioned even in his own soul whether his happiness would have been greater, or perhaps have been changed to torture and torment, had the beautiful, erratic daughter of Leon ValM been spared to earth. Whatever wild emotion had thrilled him, Chata, — the good, the sweet, the gentle Chata, with the intelligent and reflective mind, which curbed and per- CIIATA AND CHINITA. 473 1, when Her- by following 8 and became , resolute man 3 dipappeared, ' Don Alonzo es of the haci- rning the dis- ked wise, and ing, and could Elafael was the been. It did ifidence might had followed of Vall^ with sabel was con- :. Perhaps he least, after he ed the name of p. There was f Chata. She he murderer of certain assur- he wooed and , his early pro- rt of Chata no been her first, cely conscious I of one almost re love had set ;hat an uncom- appiness which ver questioned !ss would have to torture and • of Leon Vall6 on had thrilled tie Chata, with irbed and per- fected the enduring emotions of her heart, — was the only woman he had ever thought of as his wife. They rejoiced in perfect trust and sympathy, — she never imagining, he never regretting, the more impetuous passion that might have been. It was while on their wedding journey, attended by an escort of soldiers, which the insecurity of the roads in the years immediately following the overthrow of the empire made necest:*.j, :hat they went into a remote district among the mountains, some twenty lengues from Vera Cruz, from which poK they were to sail for their Northern home. The captain of the escort was a silent, swarthy young man, who born a peasant, had by his valor and de- velopment of extraordinary qualities as a strategist ac- quired during tbe contest with the French a reputation that would, had the incentive of personal ambition urged, have made it possible for him to reach the highest grade of military rank. But he fought for principle, not for glory ; to forget despair, not to challenge fame. The man was Pep(5 Ortiz. Upon such men, the t7orld when joy and love fail, sometimes thrusts greatness. This was predicted of the silent captain. One night the young officer came to the inn and invited the bride and groom to walk with him in the moonlight. They passed through the streets of the town, where the massive adobe houses, white as marble in the deceptive light, threw shadows black as ink, and presently emerged upon a paved road, which led to a garden set thick with trees. The air was heavy with perfume ; hundreds of fire- flies, wl. are the thicket was so dense no ray from the sky might penetrate, seemed to fill the place with gl^ostly fires. It was enchanting, weird, — ay, awe-inspiring. Chata clunp to her husband's arm in mute expectancy. Soon in the near distance they heard a sound as of measured strokes, and a low continuous moan. The strokes quickened to the whizz of heavy flails, the moan to the dirge of the JUiserere. Then they understood with a shock of horror that they were about to witness one of the pro- cessions of penitents, which, though forbidden by the civil law, st'*U were conducted secretly in remote and fanatical districts. Chata would have fled, but the pity at her heart seemed to paralyze her limbs. Ashley, with a feeling K 474 CHATA AND CHINITA, ' 4 I I: J 'I iJ If . » •i r strangely differing fVom mere curious expectancy, put his arm around her and awaited the advent of the dolorous company. Presently the penitents came from amid the shelter of the trees, like mournful ghosts upon the moonlit road. They were all men, — men to whom the memory of their sins was intolerable, — and as they wallced the}' wielded the cruel scourges on their bared shoulders, and ceaselessly intoned the dirge. It was past midnight, and for hours they had continued the dreadful flagellation and the un- ceasing march. Blood streamed tVom many a gaping wound ; they staggered as they walked ; more than once a fainting sufferer fell, and was lifted to his feet by the man who walked beside him. All this dismal company were masked ; each wore a friar's gown and a rough shirt of hair, which hung pendant from the girdle at the waist, above which was seen the cut and bleeding skin. 8iok with horror, when the last of the miserable wretches had gone by, Chata leaned sobbing on her husband's breast. But he gently set her upon the grassy bank of the roadside, and followed by Pep^ hastened to the help of a poor wretch, above whose prostrate form his faithful attendant bent with despairing gestures. They raised the apparently dying man, and turned aside the mask. The moonlight fell upon the face of Leon Valle, worn with the passions of other years and with the griefs of the present, j'et ndster than they had ever beheld it. At that moment the likeness between this man and Chata became in Ashley's eyes peculiarly Intensified. The trembling and sensitive young wife had approached, with an absolute certainty that something was transpiring which was to touch her own being. Scarcely surprised, though with a shock, she recognized Leon Va\\4. Pres- ently she bent and kissed him with tears. From that moment Chata had no secret rancor to regret, — the penitent Was forgiven. *'Se8ores, Senores, I pray you leave us; he revives, he will in a moment recover consciousness," cried the rough voice of Pedro Gomez. With that complete self- abnegation which, when the claims and interests of his seignorial chieftain are involved, is perhaps presented in its highest development by the Mexican peasant^ he had -CHATA AND CHINITA, 475 ancy, put bis the dolorous the shelter of Doonlit road, mory of their they wielded id ceaselessly md for hours I and the un- iny a gaping jre than once is feet by the imal company I a rough shirt e at the waist, }kin. rable wretches her husband's 'rassy bank of 'ed to the help rm his faithful Phey raised the e mask. The lie, worn with i griefs of the ;ld' it. At that Chata became id approached, ivas transpiring cely surprised, Vall6. Pres- From that regret, — the is; he revives, iss," cried the u complete self- nterests of his )8 presented in easant< he had ignored the revengeful abhorrence with which the memory of Leon Vallt^ had for years inspired him, and for the sake of her whom he had loved and served as the scion of a noble race, had dedicated his life to the father for whom she had gladly died. As Doiia Feliz had once done years before, Chata kissed with reverence the hand of this embodiment of fidelity, and with a throbbing heart turned from the last scene in the drama of which her life had formed a part. Thenceforth a new act was entered upon, in which deep and tender memories and present peace and trust are working out the trite but blissful tale of wedded love. \N nnlTenity Press : John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.