When Estrella reached the mansion on the hill she found its mistress
quietly awaiting her outside the dwelling; she welcomed the young girl
with out-stretched hands, saying:
"Father Felix has done well, indeed, to send you to me so quickly,
Estrella. I want you to feel perfectly at home, here. Old Mage will take
you to your own room and tell you what little duties you may assume if
you wish to do so. When you have arranged these little domestic matters,
come to me in the library and we will talk over some plans I have in
which I think you will be interested when you have somewhat recovered
from your recent loss. I know, from my own experience, that there is but
one way to carry sorrow through one's daily life and that is to be busy.
If one has enough physical energy and nervous strength, one can
accomplish a great deal of good in the world in spite of personal
sorrow. You are young and have not had an easy life so far ... it may be
that I can assist you so that, from now on, you and I may be able to
help each other in doing good work among those who are weaker than we
are."
Old Mage was only too willing to take charge of the girl, for, while she
did not really like the idea of having her in the family, yet, she was
aware that Ruth needed companionship and she enjoyed having a goodly
number of people around her as her life consisted, mainly, of what each
day brought into it, for old Mage, while she was a good woman and a
faithful friend, was not a thinker and made few plans for the future.
She led Estrella to the room that Ruth had arranged to have her occupy,
and, having explained certain little matters to her concerning the daily
round of life in the house, she began to question her as to what she had
learned regarding the explosion in Havana Harbor and what she thought as
to the probability of the United States declaring war on Spain on
account of it.
The girl had little information to give to the old woman for she had
been too much absorbed by her own recent grief to even think of any of
the consequences that might follow the accident ... it seemed to her
that if the whole United States navy were blown up, it would make small
difference to her now that she had lost Victorio for he had represented
to her everything that meant happiness for her in the future; she had
yet to learn many things that would, eventually, bring to her the kind
of happiness that is lasting and to be depended upon when all that is
transitory and ephemeral has passed beyond knowledge and memory.
At length, old Mage wearied of quizzing Estrella and left her to her own
thoughts which were confused and uncertain; she did not understand why
the lady of the mansion had condescended to ask her to come to her for
Father Felix had left her in doubt as to any reason, only telling her
that Miss Ruth desired her to come to her, at least for a time, to act
as a sort of companion as she was alone a great deal; he did not explain
to her that there might be work for her to do in the near future,
leaving that part to Ruth, very wisely.
Father Felix led his little flock into fresh pastures when he felt that
they were ready for such a change but he reflected deeply before doing
this and hoped, in the case of the girl under consideration, that
companionship with one as unselfish and intrinsically good and noble as
Ruth Wakefield would do more for her character than any counsel he could
give to her; the good Priest was well aware that the handsome, young,
dashing Cuban had fascinated both the women and he felt sure that, had
he lived long enough in the same world with them, he would have broken
both their hearts, for it was his nature, evidently, to gather flowers
wherever he found them and throw them away to wither and die; Father
Felix was a normal human being as well as a spiritual leader and he
recognized facts with regard to human nature as he found them, not being
deceived by appearances as a less intellectual person would have been,
or as a man possessed of weaker masculine traits than those that had
been bestowed upon him.
There was one among his parishioners of whose case he was doubtful ...
he was very anxious concerning Manuello for he knew that the young man
had some sort of guilty secret that he had confessed to no one and this
was one reason influencing him in his endeavor to extricate the innocent
Estrella from her immediate surroundings; he knew that, in the troubled
condition of the country, Manuello would be almost certain, with his
wild and untutored nature, to get into some sort of tangle with
authorities and supposed that the trouble he was well aware of as being
on the young fellow's conscience had something to do with existing
Spanish laws; he, himself, in breaking down the doors of the prison in
order to liberate this man among the rest of the prisoners, had been
guilty of violating a strict mandate and knew that he was liable to
arrest at any time, but, now that America might come into the struggle
on her own account, instead of simply through sympathy with the wrongs
of the people of Cuba, he realized that his own case had taken on a new
color, for, as he had told Ruth Wakefield, Father Felix was a native
American and loved his own country devotedly, although he had been
acting as a missionary in Cuba for some years of his active life in the
priesthood; he was dwelling on the state of mind of Manuello, sitting
quietly in his own place in the refectory, the evening after the events
related in the preceding chapter, when he heard a hasty knock at his
door and immediately opened it to admit the subject of his thoughts.
The young man entered as if upon a desperate errand and sat down in the
first chair he found without waiting for the invitation of the Priest, a
proceeding that, alone, showed the condition of his mind:
"Good Father," he began without introduction, "where is Estrella? She
has not been home for some hours and none of the family seem to know
much about her; all they told me was that I was to come to you for
information ... and here I am."
The Priest looked into his eager face and pitied while he condemned him,
for he could see that he greatly mourned the absence of the girl whom he
had decided in his own heart to have for his own.
"Manuello," said Father Felix, at length, having regarded him with a
sympathetic smile, "you must accept the situation as calmly as you can.
I have to tell you that Estrella has found another home than yours and
will, from this on, be under good care and will, I hope, find happiness
later on in her career ... she is a good girl and deserves to be happy,"
he concluded, benevolently.
"Do you mean," demanded Manuello, "that I am not to see her any more?
That I am to be shut out from her life? I want to know," he rose to his
feet, "I demand to know what you have done with her? Have you placed her
in some convent?"
His voice had risen as he added question to question and he faced the
Priest with a fierce expression on his dark and lowering features. His
attitude had no effect on Father Felix who was without bodily fear and
knew that, in the present instance, at least, he stood upon safe ground,
having, as he well knew, removed the girl from danger from the very
being who, now, glared at him:
"My Son," he said, "my Son, compose yourself. I will brook no
demonstration of vile anger from you. Estrella has been put beyond your
power. I do not know," he went on, coolly, "just what it is that is upon
your conscience at present, but I do know there is something that will
not bear a close investigation by the authorities, and I advise you to
have a care how you conduct yourself in the future. Cuba will have need
of your strong arm and I hope that you will use it in her service."
Cowed by the sternness of the tone of voice in which he had been
addressed as well as by his own guilty knowledge, Manuello, silently,
and without thanks or regrets of any kind, left the refectory, slamming
the door after him ... an indignity that few would dare to place upon
their record; giving vent, inwardly, to the curses he did not dare to
utter, he retraced his steps to his own home, intending to get what
information he could from the other members of his family as to how
Estrella went away; reaching his domicile, he, at once, began to ply his
father, who had returned from his daily toil, with various inquiries,
but found him not only uncommunicative but, apparently, also uninformed
as to what had taken place during his absence; all that the other
members of the family knew was that Father Felix had come hurriedly to
the house and had a short conversation with Estrella when she had packed
a few personal effects, of which, indeed, the poor girl had but few, and
left the place, telling them she would see them again from time to time
and leaving kind farewells for both himself and his father.
Then he remembered how intimate Estrella had always been with Tessa and
decided his best course would be to go to her little friend, being well
aware that any information she might have she would gladly give to him;
he was hurrying along, intent upon this new hope of relief from his
anxiety regarding the woman he imagined himself to be deeply in love
with, when, all at once, he became aware that someone was following his
footsteps, guardedly and yet with determination; immediately upon this
knowledge, there stalked into the foreground of his consciousness the
fear of discovery of his recent crime; the intimation of the Priest that
he had suspected it had stirred within him the instinct of
self-protection and he hastened his progress along the familiar and
narrow street, hoping to out-distance his pursuer, whoever he might
happen to be.
It seemed to him that he was succeeding in this last effort and he was
congratulating himself upon his own celerity, when a hand was laid
rather heavily upon his shoulder and a loud and insistent voice declared
him to be the prisoner of the owner of it.
Instantly, Manuello became a beast of prey, cornered in its lair, and
furious with all the animal instincts of self-preservation. He squirmed
away from the heavy hand and whirled around to face his would-be captor
and looked directly into the muzzle of a very capable gun held in steady
hands that seemed well accustomed to its use.
"Up wid ye'er fists, ye dirty spalpeen ye!" commanded the man behind the
gun, using his own rich native brogue in the excitement of the moment.
"Hould 'em right there ..." he went on, as Manuello, instinctively,
though sullenly, obeyed him, "til I snap these putty bracelets on ye'er
wrists!" fumbling in his pocket with one hand while he held the gun in
the other, steadying it against his shoulder, for he had come prepared,
knowing his prospective prisoner to be a desperate character. "There,
now!" having completed his search and placed a handcuff on one of
Manuello's wrists. "Up wid that one and over to its mate!"
But his prisoner was indeed a desperate man and did not intend to yield
to arrest as easily as it had appeared, at first; raising the manacled
wrist, he brought the steel bracelets down on the red head of the
Irishman, felling him to the ground; then it was but the work of a
moment to secure the loaded gun, and, after that, the tables were
completely turned for Manuello immediately became the master of the
situation; looking hastily about him to be sure that he was unobserved,
he was about to complete the utter defeat of the man who had given him
such a terrific fright by beating his brains out with the clubbed gun,
when he heard his own name spoken in a soft, low, scared voice; turning,
he beheld little Tessa standing behind him.
"Oh, Manuello," she cried, breathing pantingly, "what has happened here?
Are you hurt? There is blood on your wrist ... and ..." here she stopped
in consternation, "what else have you here?" for the Irishman had done,
at least, a part of his work well, having locked the handcuff which the
young man had almost forgotten he was wearing, "Take the hateful thing
off, dear Manuello ... do take it off ... I don't like to see it on your
wrist."
"Easier said than done, my dear little Girl!" declared the victim,
smilingly. "But we can fix that somehow; in the meantime, we will let
this fellow lay where he has fallen. Someone of his tribe will, likely,
be along, soon, and they can take care of each other. Come along, Tessa,
we will see what we can do with this piece of jewelry ... it is rather
unwieldy ... I don't like the look of it."
The home of the young girl was not far distant and thither they
repaired; after repeated efforts to file through or break the manacles,
Tessa bethought herself of one possible method of releasing Manuello and
acted upon her idea at once; running out upon the street she approached
the place where the soldier had fallen, for he wore the uniform of the
Spanish army, intending to feel in all of his pockets for a key that
would unlock the handcuffs.
As she drew near to the spot she heard low voices and crept along in the
shadow of the shrubbery that lined the narrow street until she was
within ear-shot; then she realized that two more soldiers had joined
their fallen comrade whom they had resuscitated, so that he was relating
to them something of the circumstances that had led to his present
plight:
"Ye see, b'ys," he was saying, "I wanted to arrist the spalpeen
myself becase I think he is not only a revolutionist, but, also, a
mhurderer ... a fella we arristed yesterday tould me that he thinks
_this_ wan killed the leader of thim all ... seems he was jealous of
him ... they both wanted the same ghirl...."
Tessa, realizing that her errand was useless, turned to go back
silently, but the words she had heard had burned themselves into her
brain, and when she was again beside Manuello he seemed far different
to her than he had before; she found him almost crazy from fear of
discovery as he had failed in all of his efforts to free himself from
the device that had been placed upon his wrist.
"Did you get the key?" he demanded, almost fiercely. "Where is it? This
cursed thing is almost killing me!"
Frightened at his expression and regretting her inability to help him,
the girl began to cry, lifting her apron to her eyes to wipe away her
tears; as she did so, the young man said to her, angrily:
"Well ... _stand_ there and cry while I am suffering ... you'll do a lot
of good that way ... hustle out and see if you can't find some tool to
get this thing off of me ... go to the village blacksmith and tell him
some lie or other ... ask him how you can get an iron off your little
sister's leg ... do something ... someone will come in and find me this
way!"
"Even if they did, Manuello ... you are not under arrest ... the man
don't know where you are, now; but I'll go and try to find some way to
help you ... of course I will ..." said the generous-hearted girl, "I am
_so_ sorry for you, and, now, that Estrella is gone...."
She hurried out, then, leaving the young fellow in no pleasant mood, for
he had much to reflect upon and a pair of heavy handcuffs hanging to one
wrist is not conducive to a man's happiness.
Tessa soon returned and had to report that her efforts in his behalf
were, again, unsuccessful, for the blacksmith had only said:
"Bring the child to me and I will do what I can for her."
Manuello was, now, almost in despair and he was wise enough to know that
cursing, while it might relieve his feelings to some extent, would not
really help the situation, so he pulled his sleeve down as far as he
could over the manacled wrist and proceeded to find out what he could
concerning Estrella.
Tessa would have felt much freer than she did had she not remembered the
words of the soldiers concerning the crime of which they suspected the
young man, and only told him that Estrella had come running to her, that
morning, and had told her that she was going away for a while but that
she would see her again, soon.
Manuello had to content himself with this, hoping to find out more from
Tessa within a day or so, and went away, divided between a desire to
revenge himself upon the man who had tried to arrest him and
self-congratulation upon his escape, but most of all he pondered how to
get the hateful handcuffs from his wrist, for, besides being painful and
unwieldly, he knew that they would attract attention to him.