I awoke this morning with a sense of horror haunting me,--and then I
recalled the scene of yesterday and the dumb appeal in the eyes of the
dying hound. The story the Spanish woman had told me of her own past
pleaded nothing in excuse. Hatred and cruelty seemed strange fruit for
love to bear.
I thought of my own ill fortunes, and I said within me: True Love sits
at the door of the heart to guard it from all evil passions. Loss and
Pain may enter in, and Sorrow bear them company; but Revenge and
Cruelty, Untruth, and all their evil kin, must hide their shamed faces
and pass by!
Secure in the thought of the pure affection that reigned in my own
bosom, I went forth and met Temptation, and straightway fell from the
high path in which I believed my feet to be so surely fixed!
Doña Orosia seemed to be in a strangely gentle mood.
"Child, how pale thy face is! Didst thou not lie awake all night? Deny
it not, 'tis writ most plainly in the dark shadows round those great
blue eyes. Come, rest here beside me"--and she drew me down upon the
couch and slipped a soft pillow under my head.
I was fairly dumfounded at this unwonted courtesy, and could find no
words to meet it with. But she appeared unconscious of my silence and
continued speaking.
"'Tis the thought of the English lover that robs thee of sleep,
Margarita mia! Thou wouldst give thy very life to procure his freedom;
is it not so? Would any task be too hard for thee with this end in
view?"
I could not answer; I clasped my hands and looked at her in silence.
"I thought as much," she said, smiling, and laid a gentle finger on my
cheek.
"Oh, señora, you will aid me to save him! You will plead with the
Governor--you will set him free?"
She drew back coldly. "You ask too much. I have told you that there are
two Governors in San Augustin--I divide the honours with Melinza; but I
plead with him for naught."
I turned away to hide the quivering of my lip.
"Listen to me," she added more kindly. "Between Pedro Melinza and Orosia
de Colis there is at present an armed peace; since each holds a
hostage. Not that I care anything for the Englishman, but my husband is
undesirous of defying the commands of the Council. Although he bears no
love to your nation, he maintains that it is not the policy of our
government, at present, to ignore openly the friendly relations that are
supposed to exist between the Crowns of England and of Spain. It seems
that the duplicate of the Council's orders has been sent to the Governor
of your new settlement on this coast; and if he sends hither to demand
the delivery of the prisoners, Señor de Colis would rather choose to
yield up all, than to risk a reprimand from the authorities at home.
"Dost thou understand all this? Well, let us now see the reverse of the
picture.
"Melinza sets his own desires in the scale, and they outweigh all
politic scruples. He has sworn that so long as I stand between him and
you, so long will Señor Rivers remain in the castle dungeon,--unless
Death steps kindly in to set your lover free."
A little sob broke in my throat at these cruel words. Doña Orosia laid
her hand on mine.
"Poor little one!" she said.
"You pity me, señora! What is your pity worth?" I demanded, forcing back
the tears.
"I have a way of escape to offer," she answered softly.
"Escape for him? Or for me?"
"For both. Now listen! There is but one way to relax Melinza's hold on
Señor Rivers. He would exchange him willingly for you."
"Better for us both to die!" I exclaimed indignantly.
"I would sooner kill you with my own hands than give you up to him,"
said Doña Orosia, with a cold smile.
"Then what do you mean, señora?"
"I mean, Margarita mia, that you should feign a tenderness for him and
let him think that it is I who would keep two loving souls apart."
"What! when I have shown him naught but dislike in all these months? He
could never be so witless as to believe in such a sudden
transformation."
"Such is the vanity of man," said Doña Orosia, "that he would find it
easier to believe that you had feigned hatred all this while from fear
of me, than to doubt that you had eventually fallen a victim to his
fascinations."
"What would it advantage me if I did deceive him?"
"He would then cease to oppose the liberation of all the other
prisoners."
"But what of my fate, señora?"
"Leave that in my hands, little one,--I am not powerless. I give thee my
word he shall never have thee. At the last moment we shall undeceive
him"--and she laughed a low laugh of triumph.
I glanced up quickly.
"So!" I exclaimed. "This will be your revenge! And you would bribe me,
with my dear love's freedom, to act a part in it! To lie for you; to
play at love where I feel only loathing; to sully my lips with feigned
caresses; and to make a mockery of the holiest thing in life!"
"Is your Englishman not worth some sacrifice?" she asked, with lifted
brows.
What could I say? I left her. I hastened to my little room, shut fast
the door, and bolted it on the inner side. Then I knelt at the barred
window and looked out at the sunlight and the sea.
The blue waves danced happily, and the fresh wind kissed the sparkling
ripples till the foam curled over them--as white lids droop coyly over
laughing eyes. Two snowy gulls dipped and soared, flashing now against
the blue sky--now into the blue sea. I gazed at their white wings--and
thought of all the vain prayers I had sent up to Heaven.
And then the dark hour of my life closed down on me.
I bethought me of my father, that loyal gentleman whose only fault was
that he served his Prince too well,--a Prince whose gratitude had never
prompted him to inquire concerning that servant's fate, or to offer a
word of consolation to the wife who had lost her all. I bethought me of
my young mother, of her white, tear-stained face, of the long hours she
had spent upon her knees, and how at last she prayed: "Lord! only to
know that he is dead!"--yet she died ignorant.
Then did the devil come to me and whisper: "Of what use is it to have
patience and faith? Does thy God bear thee in mind--or is his memory
like that of the Prince thy father served? Dost thou still believe that
He doeth all things well, and is there still trust in thy heart? Come,
make friends of those who would aid thee--never mind a little lie!
Wouldst be happy? Wouldst save thy dear love? Then cease thy vain
prayers and take thy fate in thine own hands."
I rose up from my knees and looked out again upon the laughing
waters,--I would do this evil thing that good might come. I would act a
lying part, and soil my soul, so that I and my dear love might win
freedom and happiness. But I would pray no more--for I could not ask
God's blessing on a lie.
Then I went slowly back to where my temptress waited.
"Doña Orosia," I said, "I take your offer. I am young--I would be happy;
and you--you would be revenged! I am not the little fool you think me: I
know you too well to believe that you would aid me out of love; I laugh
at your pity; but I trust your hate!"
"_Bueno_," she said. "It is enough. We understand one another,--but I
must teach thee the part, or thou wilt fail."
"I am not so simple, señora, I can feign love--for love's sake."
"Yet I would have thee set round with thorns, my sweet. The rose that is
too easy plucked is not worth wearing. And do thou give only promises
and never fulfil them,--I'd baulk him of every kiss he thinks to win!"