As a rule, people of melancholy temperament, or with a sorrow at the
heart, give way to it within doors in the privacy of their own
apartments. The daughter of Don Ignacio had been more often taught to
assuage hers upon the house-top, to which she was accustomed to ascend
daily, staying there for hours alone. For this she had opportunity; her
father, busied with State affairs, spending most of his time--at least
during the diurnal hours--at Government headquarters in the _Palacio_.
On this day, however, Luisa Valverde mounted up to the azotea with
feelings, and under an impulse, very different from that hitherto
actuating her. Her behaviour, too, was different. When she made her
way up and took stand inside the mirador, her eyes, instead of wandering
all around, or resting dreamily on the landscape, with no care for its
attractions, were turned in a particular direction, and became fixed
upon a single point. This was where the road, running from the city to
Tacubaya, alongside the aqueduct of Chapultepec, parts from the latter,
diverging abruptly to the left. Beyond this point the causeway, carried
on among maguey plants, and Peruvian pepper trees, cannot be seen from
the highest house-top in the city.
Why on this day, more than any other, did the young lady direct her
glance to the bend in the road, there keeping it steadfast? For what
reason was the expression upon her countenance so different from that of
other days? No listless look now; instead, an earnest eager gaze, as
though she expected to see some one whose advent was of the greatest
interest to her. It could only be the coming of some one, as one going
would have been long since visible by the side of the aqueduct.
And one she did expect to come that way; no grand cavalier on prancing
steed, but a simple pedestrian--in short, her own servant. She had sent
him on an errand to Tacubaya, and was now watching for, and awaiting his
return. It was the nature of his errand which caused her to look for
him so earnestly.
On no common business had he been despatched, but one of a confidential
character, and requiring tact in its execution. But Jose, a _mestizo_
whom she had commissioned, possessed this, besides having her
confidence, and she had no fear of his betraying her. Not that it was a
life or death matter; only a question of delicacy. For his errand was
to inquire, whether among the Texan prisoners taken to Tacubaya one was
called Florence Kearney.
As it was now the third day after their arrival in Mexico, it may be
wondered why the young lady had not sought this information before. The
explanation is easy. Her father owned a country house in the environs
of San Augustine, some ten miles from the city; and there staying she
had only the day before heard that the captive train, long looked-for,
had at length arrived. Soon as hearing it, she had hastened her return
to town, and was now taking steps to ascertain whether her lover still
lived.
She did not think of making inquiry at the Acordada, though a rumour had
reached her that some of the prisoners were there. But surely not Don
Florencio! If alive, it was not likely he would be thus disgraced: at
least she could not believe it. Little dreamt she of the malice that
was moving, and in secret, to degrade in her eyes the man who was
uppermost in her thoughts.
And as little suspected she when one of the house domestics came upon
the azotea and handed her a large ornamental envelope, bearing the State
arms, that it was part of the malignant scheme.
Breaking it open she drew out an embossed and gilded card--a ticket. It
came from the Dictator, inviting Dona Luisa Valverde to be present in a
grand procession, which was to take place on the following day;
intimating, moreover, that one of the State carriages would be at the
disposal of herself and party.
There were but few ladies in the city of Mexico who would not have been
flattered by such an invitation; all the more from the card bearing the
name, Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, signed by himself, with the added
phrase "con estima particular."
But little cared she for the flattery. Rather did it cause her a
feeling of disgust, with something akin to fear. It was not the first
time for the ruler of Mexico to pay compliments and thus press his
attentions upon her.
Soon as glanced over, she let the despised thing fall, almost flinging
it at her feet; and once more bent her eyes upon the Tacubaya Road,
first carrying her glance along the side of the aqueduct to assure
herself that her messenger had not in the meanwhile rounded the corner.
He had not, and she continued to watch impatiently; the invitation to
ride in the State carriage being as much out of her mind as though she
had never received it.
Not many minutes longer before being intruded on. This time, however,
by no domestic; instead a lady--like herself, young and beautiful, but
beauty of an altogether different style. Though of pure Spanish
descent, Luisa Valverde was a _guera_; her complexion bright, with hair
of sunny hue. Such there are in Mexico, tracing their ancestry to the
shores of Biscay's famous bay.
She who now appeared upon the azotea was dark; her skin showing a tinge
of golden brown, with a profusion of black hair plaited and coiled as a
coronet around her head. A crayon-like shading showed upon her upper
lip--which on that of a man would have been termed a moustache--
rendering whiter by contrast teeth already of dazzling whiteness; while
for the same reason, the red upon her cheeks was of the deep tint of a
damask rose. The tones of all, however, were in perfect harmony; and
distributed over features of the finest mould produced a face in which
soft feminine beauty vied with a sort of savage picturesqueness, making
it piquantly attractive.
It was altogether a rare bewitching face; part of its witchery being due
to the _raza Andalusiana_--and beyond that the Moriscan--but as much of
it coming from the ancient blood of Anahuac--possibly from the famed
Malinche herself. For the young lady delineated was the Condes
Almonte--descended from one of Conquistadors who had wedded an Aztec
princess--the beautiful Ysabel Almonte whose charms were at the time the
toast of every _cercle_ in Mexico.