The will of Dave's mother! Then Maria Joséfa Law was that poor woman
regarding whose tragic end Judge Ellsworth had spoken so peculiarly.
Alaire felt not a little curiosity to know more about the mother of the
man whose name she had taken. Accordingly, after a moment of debate
with herself, she sat down to translate the instrument. Surely Dave
would not object if she occupied herself thus while he slept.
The document had evidently been drawn in the strictest form, doubtless
by some local priest, for it ran:
First: I commend my soul to the Supreme Being who from nothing formed
it, and my body I order returned to earth, and which, as soon as it
shall become a corpse, it is my wish shall be shrouded with a blue
habit in resemblance to those used by the monks of our Seraphic Father,
St. Francis; to be interred with high mass, without pomp--
Alaire mused with a certain reverent pleasure that Dave's mother had
been a devout woman.
Second: I declare to have, in the possession of my husband, Franklin
Law, three horses, with splendid equipment of saddles and bridles,
which are to be sold and the proceeds applied to masses for the benefit
of my soul. I so declare, that it may appear.
Third: I declare to owe to Mrs. Guillelmo Perez about twenty dollars,
to be ascertained by what she may have noted in her book of accounts.
So I declare, that this debt may be paid as I have ordered.
Fourth: In just remuneration for the services of my cousin, Margarita
Ramirez, I bequeath and donate a silver tray which weighs one hundred
ounces, seven breeding cows, and four fine linen and lace tablecloths.
So I declare, that it may appear.
Fifth: I bequeath to my adopted son, David, offspring of the
unfortunate American woman who died in my house at Escovedo, the share
of land--
Alaire re-read this paragraph wonderingly, then let the document fall
into her lap. So Dave was an adopted son, and not actually the child of
this woman, Maria Joséfa Law. She wondered if he knew it, and, if so,
why he hadn't told her? But, after all, what difference did it make who
or what he was? He was hers to love and to comfort, hers to cherish and
to serve.
For a long time she sat gazing at him tenderly; then she tiptoed out
and delighted the naked Garcia baby by taking him in her arms and
hugging him. Inez thought the beautiful señora's voice was like the
music of birds.
It was growing dark when Dave was awakened by cool hands upon his face
and by soft lips upon his. He opened his eyes to find Alaire bending
over him.
"You must get up," she smiled. "It is nearly time to go, and Inez is
cooking our supper."
He reached up and took her in his arms. She lay upon his breast,
thrilling happily with her nearness to him, and they remained so for a
while, whispering now and then, trying ineffectually to voice the
thoughts that needed no expression.
"Why did you let me sleep so long?" he asked her, reproachfully.
"Oh, I've been napping there in that chair, where I could keep one eye
on you. I'm terribly selfish; I can't bear to lose one minute." After a
while she said: "I've made a discovery. Father O'Malley snores
dreadfully! Juanito never heard anything like it, and it frightened him
nearly to death. He says the Father must be a very fierce man to growl
so loudly. He says, too, that he likes me much better than his mother."
It seemed to Dave that the bliss of this awakening and the sweet
intimacy of this one moment more than rewarded him for all he had gone
through, and paid him for any unhappiness the future might hold in
store.
He felt called upon to tell Alaire the truth about himself; but with
her in his arms he had no strength of purpose; her every endearment
made him the more aware of his weakness. Again he asked himself when
and how he could bear to tell her? Not now. Certainly not now when she
was trembling under his caresses.
"I've been busy, too," she was saying. "I sent Juan to the village to
learn the news, and it's not very nice. It's good we stopped here. He
says Nuevo Pueblo has been destroyed, and the Federal forces are all
moving south, away from the border. So our troubles aren't over yet. We
must reach the river tonight."
"Yes, by all means."
"Juan is going with us as guide."
"You arranged everything while I snoozed, eh? I'm ashamed of myself."
Alaire nodded, then pretended to frown darkly. "You ought to be," she
told him. "While you were asleep I read your mail and--"
"My mail?" Dave was puzzled.
"Exactly. Have you forgotten that your pockets were full of unopened
letters?"
"Oh, those! They came just as I was leaving Jonesville, and I haven't
thought of them since. You know, I haven't had my clothes off."
"I'm going to read all your love letters," she told him, threateningly.
"Yes, and you're going to write all of them, too," he laughed.
But she shook a warning finger in his face. "I told you I'm a jealous
person. I'm going to know all about you, past, present, and future. I--"
"Alaire! My darling!" he cried, and his face stiffened as if with pain.
Still in a joyous mood, she teased him. "You had better tremble, I've
found you out, deceiver. I know who you really are."
"Who am I?"
"Don't you know?"
Dave shook his head.
"Really? Have you never read your mother's will?"
Law rose to his elbow, then swung his legs to the floor. "What are you
talking about?" he asked.
For answer Alaire handed him the frayed envelope and its contents.
He examined it, and then said, heavily: "I see! I was expecting this.
It seems I've been carrying it around all this time--"
"Why don't you read it?" she insisted. "There's light enough there by
the window. I supposed you knew all about it or I wouldn't have joked
with you."
He opened his lips to speak, but, seeing something in her eyes, he
stepped to the window and read swiftly. A moment, and then he uttered a
cry.
"Alaire!" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Read this--My eyes--O God!"
Wonderingly she took the sheets from his shaking hands and read aloud
the paragraph he indicated: Fifth: I bequeath to my adopted son, David,
offspring of the unfortunate American woman who died in my house at
Escovedo--
Again Dave cried out and knelt at Alaire's feet, his arms about her
knees, his face buried in her dress. His shoulders were heaving and his
whole body was racked with sobs.
Shocked, frightened, Alaire tried to raise him, but he encircled her in
a tighter embrace.
"Dave! What is it? What have I done?" she implored. "Have I hurt you
so?"
It was a long time before he could make known the significance of that
paragraph, and when he finally managed to tell her about the terrible
fear that had lain so heavily upon his soul it was in broken, choking
words which showed his deep emotion. The story was out at last,
however, and he stood over her transfigured.
Alaire lifted her arms and placed them upon his shoulders. "Were you
going to give me up for that?--for a shadow?"
"Yes. I had made up my mind. I wouldn't have dared marry you last
night, but--I never expected to see today's sun. I didn't think it
would make much difference. It was more than a shadow, Alaire. It was
real. I WAS mad--stark, staring mad--or in a fair way of becoming so. I
suppose I brooded too much. Those violent spells, those wild moments I
sometimes have, made me think it must be true. I dare say they are no
more than temper, but they seemed to prove all that Ellsworth
suspected."
"You must have thought me a very cowardly woman," she told him. "It
wouldn't have made the slightest difference to me, Dave. We would have
met it together when it came, just as we'll meet everything now--you
and I, together."
"My wife!" He laid his lips against her hair.
They were standing beside the window, speechless, oblivious to all
except their great love, when Dolores entered to tell them that supper
was ready and that the horses were saddled.