"Don Felipe here? The coward, the cur! How dare he return?" she cried
with a sudden outburst, her words ringing with indignation and
resentment. She impatiently tapped the palm of her hand with her fan as
she began to realize what his return might mean to her.
She knew that Señora had come to warn her not on her own account, but
solely on Don Felipe's. Knowing as she did the reckless character of the
man, she thoroughly realized the danger, and knew that she must be on
her guard, not only for her own sake, but for Captain Forest's as well.
Like the bird of ill omen that he was, his presence boded no good to
her. Already she felt his baleful shadow fall across her path.
The unusual attention which Chiquita had begun to pay to her personal
appearance did not escape the observant eye of Padre Antonio. Knowing
the nature of woman as few men did, he was wise enough not to question
her, experience having taught him that the majority of women can only
keep a secret for a certain length of time. He smiled and admired, or
twitted her with the simple remark: "For whom are we dressing this
morning, Chiquita _mia_?" But she only laughed in reply, or shaking her
finger at him with a mysterious air, would say: "What woman would not
dress for Padre Antonio?" But Padre Antonio was not so innocent as he
tried to appear. Instinct, reënforced by long experience, told him that
these were the first real symptoms of love which his wild little Indian
girl, as he chose to call her, had shown.
He had always suspected that she never really cared for Don Felipe, and
had done his best to break off the engagement before the catastrophe had
overtaken the latter; but this was different. That of which he was loath
to think, yet which he knew must inevitably happen, had come to pass.
His knowledge of human nature told him that she had at last met the man
worthy of her love, but, he asked himself, would Captain Forest, of a
different race and reared under totally different conditions,
reciprocate that love? He could not endure the thought that his little
girl might be made unhappy should the Captain fail to respond to her
love.
He, too, had seen Chiquita give him the rose from his study window which
overlooked the garden. So, when the sermon upon which he was engaged was
completed, he quietly descended to the garden with the intention of
administering to her a gentle admonition as well as giving her a little
wholesome advice. Chiquita, hearing the sound of his measured tread on
the gravel as he approached along the pathway, reseated herself on the
bench and began to fan herself unconcernedly.
What a picture she made against the pale plumy branches of the tamarisk,
thought Padre Antonio.
"I thought I heard voices," he said, seating himself beside her. "Has
any one been here?"
"Doña Fernandez has just gone," replied Chiquita absently. "She has been
giving me some of her advice."
"Advice?" echoed Padre Antonio, realizing the moment of his arrival to
be most opportune. "That's just what I have come to give you, my
child--advice!"
"What! You, too, Padre?" she exclaimed petulantly, looking at him
inquiringly. "_Dios!_ what have I done that everybody comes to give me
advice when I have so many other things to think of?"
"Chiquita," slowly began Padre Antonio, laying his hand gently on her
own, "I have always known you to be wiser than most women, the result no
doubt, of your early life and training in the wilds where people must
live by their wits for self-preservation if for nothing else." He paused
that he might the better collect his thoughts. She guessed what was
coming and began toying with her fan, an arch smile playing about her
delicate, sensitive mouth as she regarded him out of the corners of her
large dark eyes.
"Chiquita," he continued, "I do not like your extravagance. Have a care,
child, lest you become addicted to vanity."
"Again, just what the Señora said! Am I so vain as all that, Padre
_mio_, that you should be obliged to remind me of it?"
"Then why this continual display?" he asked pointedly. "You never used
to show such consideration for your admirers." She felt that it would
be not only foolish, but worse than useless to attempt to fence about
the truth with him.
"Ah, Padre _mio_," she sighed softly, blushing and laying her hand
lightly on his shoulder and looking up into his face with deep lustrous
eyes that softened with her words, "you--you forget--that I have never
been in love before."
"In love!" echoed Padre Antonio in turn. "Ah! I knew it was that," and
into his eyes there came an expression of tenderness and a far-away look
as though the word recalled memories of other days. Memories which music
or the glories of the sunset, or the cooing of the wood-dove at eventide
might awaken within the soul. The sunlight played along the path at
their feet. The breeze wafted the fragrance of the roses about them and
a linnet, perched on the swaying branch of a tree overhead, gave voice
to his song, singing of the joy of life. Again he sighed, and Chiquita
looking up quickly, saw in his eyes that which she had never suspected.
"Padre _mio_," she said at length, lowering her eyes and slowly opening
and shutting her fan, "have--have you ever been in love?"
"My child!" he cried with a start, suddenly recollecting where he was.
"You forget what I am! What are you thinking of?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing!" she returned quietly. "Only it's so--so sweet to
be in love, Padre _mio_. And yet so--"
"So what, my child?" he interrupted hurriedly, as if to get through
with the subject as quickly as possible.
"So terrible," she answered.
"So terrible?"
"Yes, terrible, Padre _mio_, for I never knew before how ugly I am."
"My poor child, you have quite lost your head!" he answered
sympathetically.
"Ah, no," she said rising and facing him, "you do not understand; I have
a most dangerous rival. To win the Señor I am compelled to use every
means and strategy within my power. Can you not see?" she continued
passionately; "she has everything; I have nothing. She is not only
beautiful, but rich, and Blessed Virgin, what dresses she has, and
jewels enough to cover an altar-cloth!"
"My child!" he cried. "You are merely jealous of the Señorita's beauty.
For shame, that you should set such store upon worldly things!"
"Padre _mio_, you would not have your little Chiquita unhappy, would
you?" she went on without heeding his words, a beseeching tone in her
voice. "Should I fail to win Captain Forest's love, my heart will
break!" She stood with downcast eyes before him, an expression of pain
on her face.
"Ah, yes, my child, I understand," he answered compassionately, also
rising from the bench. "Your temptation is great. Beware of pride and
the vanities of this world, for he that exalteth himself shall be
humbled.
"Chiquita," he continued earnestly, "my greatest care in bringing you up
has ever been to keep you the pure and simple being that you were when
you came to me. Do not forget--God demandeth that the souls which he
gave into our keeping should be returned unto him again in the same pure
unblemished state that we received them. Therefore, take heed, my child,
for although God has endowed you with great beauty of both mind and
body, do not foolishly imagine that, by arraying yourself in the
vanities of this world, you can add an atom to the natural beauty He has
bestowed upon you already. Be but pleasing in God's sight and it must
follow that you will please all men as well."
"Oh! you really do think me beautiful, Padre?" she cried, a radiant look
on her face.
"My child, my child, you do not listen to what I have to say!" he
groaned despairingly.
"Oh, yes, I do, Padre _mio_! But you forget that, when God endowed woman
with a soul, he gave her a heart as well. Willingly we render our souls
unto God, but our hearts belong to men." The logic of her argument was
too much for Padre Antonio, and he laughed as she had never seen him
laugh before.
"Verily," he said at length, wiping the tears from his eyes and
reseating himself on the bench, "the spirit and flesh must ever contend
for the mastery of the soul on earth; it is our fate--the good Lord
intended that it should be so."
"Ah, yes," she returned. "It's not always the good that seems to please
us most in this world."
"Aye, verily!" he rejoined, relapsing into silence. Again the linnet
gave voice to his song, and the cooling breeze sighed among the tamarisk
plumes that waved about their heads.
"Do you remember when you first came to me, Chiquita _mia_?" he asked at
last.
"That was ten years ago, Padre."
"I then thought," he went on, "that the good Lord had sent you to me to
make a little angel out of you, but--"
"Ah, Padre _mio_," she interrupted, "it's too bad! I'm afraid I'm still
the little devil that I was!" and laughing, she rose from her seat and
passing around to his end of the bench, stood beside him and began to
pull the leaves from a rose-bush.
"Padre _mio_," she said softly, looking down at him with mischievous
lights dancing in her eyes, "you don't really regret that I have
remained what I am, do you?"
"Oh, I didn't mean to infer that, my child!" he answered with a note of
reproach in his voice, looking up into her shadowy, downcast face. She
gave a little laugh, and tapping him gently on one shoulder with her
fan, said: "Do you know what you are, Padre _mio_?"
"What, my child?" he asked innocently, his face brightening at the
question.
"You're the dearest old goose that ever lived!" and bending over him,
she kissed him lightly on the crown of his head before he could prevent
it.
"Chiquita, my child--you're too impulsive! Have I not repeatedly forbade
you--" but the sound of her laughter and retreating footsteps on the
pathway leading to the house was the only response his words invoked.
"_Dios!_" he exclaimed, recovering his breath. "I sometimes think that
God created man, but woman--the devil! They never listen to anything one
has to tell them!"
Chiquita went quietly to her room, walked straight to her bureau and
opening the lower drawer, took out a small pistol which lay concealed
beneath a chemise in one corner. Examining it carefully with the
practiced eye and hand of one who has been accustomed to the use of
firearms all her life, she loaded it and then placed it inside her
breast. She knew Don Felipe as no one else did, and thoroughly realized
the danger that threatened her. From that hour, waking or sleeping, the
weapon must never leave her.