ELSIE’S DREAM.
The others came in due time. They had enjoyed a short drive on the
turnpike, which explained their delay in reaching the top of the
mountain.
Crossgrove was in high spirits. He had sent word in advance that his
party would arrive at the hotel and wished supper there. Everything had
been made ready for them, and they proceeded to enjoy themselves on the
broad veranda, from which they could look ’way over the
island-besprinkled bay. With the aid of a field glass they could see the
outer islands, beyond which lay the open ocean. They could also see the
mountains, at the foot of which nestled Bar Harbor.
Del Norte seemed to take delight in pointing out the particularly
striking or attractive features of the view. He descanted upon each
feature. His language was indeed poetical in many instances. From one
group to another he passed, apparently in highest spirits and the most
genial humor. Always he was the soul of courtesy and politeness.
But a score of times Inza Burrage detected him watching her or flashing
her a strange, quick glance.
She was standing alone by the rail at the edge of the veranda when she
heard a soft step and felt a presence at her side.
“You seem enchanted, señorita,” said Del Norte, in a low tone. “I do not
wonder. Yet, do you know, for all the beauties I see spread out before
me there is something in the scene that reminds me of death.”
“Death?”
She shrank away involuntarily, looking at him with startled eyes.
“Yes,” he said, “that is what I meant to say. After climbing the path I
made a little exploration. I found certain precipices over which it
would be almost certain death for one to fall. I keep thinking of these
precipices. Strange I cannot forget them.”
“But we see none of them from here, so why should the scene remind you
of death?”
“You see none of them distinctly, but there’s one down yonder, señorita.
You might walk out to the verge of it without going so very far. But it
was not of these things I meant to speak when I said the scene reminded
me of death. I was thinking what it must look like in the bleak winter.
I was thinking how repellant this must be when buried deep under snow
and ice. And I thank my fate that I was not born to such a land. I thank
my fate that I am a child of the sweet land of Mexico, where flowers
bloom and birds sing the whole year round. I say I thank my fate that
this fortune was mine, but even as I say it I curse my fate that a great
misfortune is also mine.”
“A misfortune, señor?”
“Yes, the greatest that may be known to a man with a poet’s soul like
mine. The greatest that may come to him whose heart burns always with
living fire as my heart burns within me.”
“How strangely you talk!”
“I suppose it does seem strange to you, Señorita Inza.”
“I don’t think I understand you.”
“Possibly not. Still, I fancied I had said enough so you couldn’t fail
to understand me. Last night as we sat on the deck of the _Sachem_, with
the placid harbor spread around us and the mellow moonlight turning its
waves to silver, I couldn’t choke back the things which came to my lips.
Perhaps I was rash. Perhaps I was foolish. I couldn’t help it. You must
know, señorita—you must know how I love you!”
“Stop!” she commanded, in a low, intense tone. “Let me give you a
warning now. I had no chance last night, for Frank came.”
In Spanish Del Norte muttered something that was strangely like a curse.
“Yes, he came,” said the man. “I have not forgotten; nor have I
forgotten, señorita, that you did not tell him just what had happened.
You did not tell him I kissed your hand. That made me think that perhaps
my case was not hopeless. That made me think perhaps you looked with a
little favor upon me.”
“You quite mistook the reason why I did not tell him,” she declared,
still repressing her voice. “I did not dare.”
“Did not dare?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I know him.”
“And you mean by that—just what, señorita?”
“Frank knows that you know we are engaged. Had I told him of your
presumption he would have made trouble for you. I am sure he would have
punished you for it. And I don’t wish you and Frank to engage in an
encounter—at least, while you are both guests of Mr. Crossgrove on the
_Sachem_.”
“I am willing that you should tell him, señorita,” declared the Mexican,
with a touch of passion. “If you don’t, I may yet tell him myself.”
“If you do you will make the mistake of your life—you will surely regret
it. Be warned, Portias del Norte. I know Frank Merriwell, and you do
not. Keep away from me if you are inclined to forget your place and talk
folly. Save your protestations of love for some one else.”
“Impossible! impossible!” he breathed. “When I see you my soul pants to
speak. I feel a yearning that makes me willing to face any peril. I have
dreamed strange dreams since we met, señorita. I have dreamed of my home
far away in Mexico, and of you in it as my bride.”
“If you speak one word more of this,” said Inza, “I shall leave you, and
I shall be gravely offended. I am in earnest, Señor del Norte. It’s the
height of folly for you to entertain such thoughts. I do not care in the
slightest about you, and never could care.”
“You say so; but I know—ah, I know! Were he out of the way it would be
different.”
“Not a bit different. You interest me, but you are not the sort of man
for whom I could bear the slightest touch of love. I wish you to
understand this in order that you may put aside your foolish thoughts.”
“Never! never!” he whispered. “I can’t put them aside! I refuse to put
them aside, even as they refuse to be cast aside. You do not know what
change time might bring to your heart. Don’t go, señorita—please don’t!
I will say no more. Do you know I can’t help thinking—I can’t help
thinking! Even though my lips are silent, my heart shall speak to you.
You shall see the undying passion of my soul in my face and in my eyes.
You shall hear it in my voice when I talk of common things. And the time
may come—the time will come when you will yield to it, even as the
branch yields to the caress of the vine that twines about it.”
For some time Elsie Bellwood had been watching Inza and her companion,
and now Elsie approached them.
Del Norte saw her and quickly said in a low tone:
“Here comes the girl with the sunny hair and the flower-like eyes. She
doesn’t like me.”
He laughed softly, and added:
“They never like me unless I make love to them. You’re not that way,
señorita. You are much different from all the women I have ever met.
Yes, I will be silent—never fear. She shall not hear or know—unless you
tell her.”
“Where is Frank, Inza?” asked Elsie as she came up.
“I don’t know,” was the answer. “He strolled away a little while ago.”
“Bart has been asking for him.”
Elsie came close to her friend and grasped Inza’s hand.
“Let’s see if we can find him,” she invited. “Perhaps Señor del Norte
will excuse you.”
“Oh, don’t let me detain you,” bowed the Mexican. “It has been my
pleasure to chat a few moments with you, and I will easily find others,
although they may be less entertaining.”
As Elsie and Inza moved away, the former said:
“I don’t like the way he was talking to you, Inza, and I fancied you
didn’t like it, either. I saw something in your manner—your
movements—that made me think he was saying things he should not. What
was he saying?”
“Oh, nothing more than a lot of foolishness,” Inza laughed. “He’s a
clever talker.”
“Altogether too clever,” said Elsie. “He’s just what I said he was, a
snake. There are beautiful snakes, you know, and Porfias del Norte is of
that variety.”
“I am not in the least afraid of him,” laughed Inza. “The most beautiful
snakes are usually perfectly harmless. The venomous kind are hideous and
repulsive.”
“Still I fear you underrate the danger of having anything to do with
that man. When I saw you with him a chill ran over me. When I saw him
bend toward you, speaking swiftly, with that strange look on his face
and in his eyes, my blood was cold in my body. Inza, do beware of him.
Bart dislikes him quite as much as I do. Bart says he is one who strikes
at an enemy’s back.”
“That’s not strange coming from Bart,” said Inza, “for he is one who
always forms violent prejudices. But it does seem strange that you
should feel so strongly about Porfias del Norte. I think you must have
absorbed it from Bart.”
“No! no! I felt it the first time I saw the man. I didn’t know what Bart
thought until I said something about him. Last night I dreamed of him. I
suppose it was because he came upon us so softly and suddenly while we
were chatting on the deck of the _Sachem_. You know I couldn’t bear to
listen when he started to sing, but after I left you I was sorry I did
so. In the night I dreamed that I saw you asleep, with a great cluster
of crimson flowers on your bosom. I remained still in order that I might
not awaken you. I could see your bosom rising and falling as you
breathed. Suddenly I saw a hideously deformed creature creeping into the
room where you lay. It was like a man, yet like a beast. I can’t
describe it. But a terrible horror came upon me as I watched.
“I knew you were in frightful peril, yet my tongue lay silent in my
mouth and I could not cry out to you. I tried to shriek to arouse you,
but not a sound would my lips utter. Nearer and nearer moved the hideous
creature until it stood directly over you. Then, for the first time, I
saw its head, and beheld that it was the head of a man. It turned for a
moment in my direction, and its face was that of Porfias del Norte,
smiling his terrible smile that is so fascinating and yet so full of
something deadly. He picked up the crimson flowers and breathed upon
them. Then he replaced them on your breast and slowly retreated, smiling
all the while. As I watched, those flowers suddenly sprang into life.
They became moving things, and to my nostrils came a soft yet terrible
odor that made me faint and sick.
“I saw those flowers with their writhing vines twist around your arms
and about your neck. The blossoms clustered thick about your face, while
the twining vines grew tight about your throat, and I knew they were
strangling you. Then I managed to break the spell upon me and utter a
shriek that awoke me. I was shaking all over, and it was daylight before
I again closed my eyes in sleep. Oh, Inza, I now feel doubly sure that
this man, Del Norte, will bring some terrible catastrophe upon you! It
will be in the form of something beautiful, but it may destroy you.”
Elsie was pale and breathless as she finished.
Inza gave her a hug and laughed at her folly; but in her heart the
dark-eyed girl felt strangely impressed by Elsie’s dream.
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