As Chiquita and Padre Antonio left the _patio_, accompanied by Marieta
and old Juana, the women drew back from her as though from some unclean
thing. Gladly would they have spared Padre Antonio's feelings, but their
hatred and jealousy were too intense and the opportunity to cast a stone
at her too tempting for flesh and blood to resist.
Greatly to the astonishment of every one, it was noted that Padre
Antonio carried his head quite as high while leaving, as when he entered
the _patio_ during the early part of the evening. They expected him to
limp away, a crushed and broken old man; but they had yet to learn the
unbending spirit of the Padre. Although humble in the sight of God,
experience had taught him that the only way to command the respect of
men was to hold one's head high while among them.
What must he think of her now, to be requited thus after all he had
done for her? Chiquita asked herself as she, with Marieta and Juana,
followed him homeward. The opinion of the world concerning her, and
the loss of Captain Forest's love, seemed little in comparison to the
thought that he should believe she had betrayed his confidence. She
could endure anything but that. Had she but told him all in the
beginning, he might have been spared the shame of this disgrace.
Perhaps it was not yet too late; she would tell him all that night.
True, she could not make amends for the pain she had caused him, but
perhaps he would understand--forgive her.
She knew that a continuance of her residence in Santa Fé was no longer
possible. Strange that it should have ended thus, and what was before
her now? She knew the world only waited to shower wealth and distinction
upon her should she choose the stage for a career; or, she might return
to her people. But what would life be to her under any conditions
without Padre Antonio's respect and the Captain's love?
Strong and versatile and capable though she was to cope with the world,
her lot was not an enviable one. It was with Godspeed, not the
maledictions of one's neighbors, that she had hoped to leave the place
which had sheltered her so long. And Padre Antonio--how could she part
from him thus?
Captain Forest's last words were her only solace; he had tried to
believe in her to the end. Let come what might, they would remain with
her always like a benediction, a tower of strength in some future hour
of trial. And then there was Don Felipe. Ah, yes, Don Felipe! Her teeth
came together with a snap, for she knew that, even after what had
transpired, he would follow her.
Padre Antonio walked silently homeward without so much as turning round
once to look at the others. Not even after arriving at the great iron
gate before the garden did he pause to allow the others to pass in ahead
of him as he otherwise would have done, but walked straight on to the
house and entered the living-room without so much as looking round,
leaving Chiquita to dispose of old Juana and the child for the night.
Padre Antonio was no fool. Perplexed though he was by what had occurred,
he knew there was a time for silence as well as a time for speech. He
also knew that Chiquita would join him as soon as the others were
settled for the night, and that she would then tell him her story.
Outside, the garden was almost as light as during the day, and the room,
though partially in shadow, was illumined by the moonlight to an extent
that rendered objects within it distinctly visible. The events of the
evening had sorely taxed his strength. He was thoroughly tired, and with
a sigh he threw himself into his large leathern chair to rest until
Chiquita returned.
"What was the mystery in connection with the child?" he asked himself,
closing his eyes in thought. Don Felipe's story could not be true. "It
was absurd, preposterous!" he cried aloud, opening his eyes with a
start. As he did so, his gaze fell upon a picture on the wall opposite,
gleaming conspicuously in the full flood of moonlight. It was that
beautiful illustration of what human faith may accomplish; the familiar
representation of Saint Elizabeth of Thuringia meekly displaying the
contents of her apron before her lord, the Landgrave--that heavy,
sporadic type of whiskered ass whose only mission in life seems to be
that of pulling the stars and all else down about his wassail-soaked
head and ears through sheer avoirdupois and stupidity. Padre Antonio
experienced a sudden thrill as he gazed at the picture. Clearly, it was
the hand of God directing him. So did Saint Elizabeth deliberately deny
the truth, and yet the bread in her apron was turned to roses.
Instinctively he recalled Captain Forest's last words. And then, putting
two and two together, he also recalled the fact that he had noted
something during the scene which nobody else seemed to have noticed,
namely: that the face of the child, Marieta, was the living image of Don
Felipe's. Like a flash all became clear to him, and he smiled and nodded
as the truth dawned upon him, and he wondered greatly at Chiquita's
discretion. Yet why should he be astonished? Was it not like her?
Chiquita also wondered in turn, and was much perplexed by his attitude,
the quiet, benign expression of his face, when she entered the room
after bidding Juana and Marieta good night. She had expected exactly the
reverse. What did it mean, did he know anything? But she did not stop to
question him. Before unburdening her soul, she must first divest herself
of the jewels which, ever since the terrible scene at the _Posada_, she
felt she had dishonored. Their touch seemed to burn her flesh.
"Padre _mio_," she said quietly, as though nothing unusual had occurred,
"you know I said it would not be necessary to wear these jewels longer
than to-night. I really never should have worn them at all. It was not
right, for, as you see, I am not worthy of them." She began to unclasp
the bracelet on her arm, but hastily putting forth his hand, he checked
her.
"No, my child!" he said, rising from the chair. "You must keep
them--they are yours. Besides, they are so becoming to you! Again I
say--you are the only woman in this world worthy to wear them."
"Padre, Padre _mio_!" she cried, starting backward and gazing full in
his face. "You--you believe in me?"
"How could you have imagined anything else, my child?" he answered
quietly. Without attempting a reply, she threw herself upon his breast,
convulsed with sobs and trembling in every limb, telling him plainer
than words how terribly shaken she had been by the ordeal through which
she had just passed. He did not attempt to soothe or pacify her with
words, knowing how useless it would be, but waited quietly for her
passionate outburst to subside.
"Ah! Padre _mio_, how good you are, and how have I requited you!" she
said at length, looking up at him through her tears and slowly
disengaging herself from his arms. "You know," she continued between
convulsive sobs, and slowly drying her tears, "that little Marieta is
the child of Don Felipe and Pepita Delaguerra." Padre Antonio started at
the mention of the latter's name.
"Pepita Delaguerra?" he repeated. "I felt all along that she was Don
Felipe's child, the resemblance is so striking, and I wonder the others
did not notice it, but I never connected her with Pepita; perhaps
because it is so long since she died. How strange that he should have
introduced his own child without knowing it!"
"Yes," returned Chiquita. "And yet it is not so strange after all.
Persons of his character invariably blunder in the end, clever though
they be. Another strange coincidence is that they were married just six
years ago to-day in the little Mission church of San Isidor at Onava."
"Why, that was before Don Juan's death, and in direct opposition to the
stipulations of his will!" exclaimed Padre Antonio excitedly.
"Just so," answered Chiquita. "That's what caused the trouble. The
entire property should have gone to the Church, but Felipe destroyed the
record of his marriage before his father's death and the birth of his
child."
"The scoundrel!" cried the Padre.
"But that is not all," continued Chiquita. "Everything seemed to be in
league with him to further his plans. Father Danuncio, who secretly
married them, also died before Don Juan did, without divulging the
secret."
"Strange!" ejaculated Padre Antonio.
"There were three witnesses to the marriage--Joaquin and Manuelita
Flores, whom Don Felipe has cleverly put out of the way, and Bob
Carlton, the gambler, who, at that time, was Don Felipe's intimate
friend; but he, too, is gone and never dare return."
"The clever scoundrel!" interrupted the Padre.
"Yes," answered Chiquita. "When it comes to deviltry, Don Felipe has yet
to meet his match. But as I was about to say: Six months after the
marriage, Don Felipe deserted Pepita, then the child was born, and
knowing that he would unhesitatingly make way with it should he learn of
its existence, Joaquin and I took it to Onava, where we knew it would
be hid effectually from the world. Of course old Juana and all the other
Indians in the village thought the child was mine, and I let them think
so in order that its identity might the better be concealed until we
were able to prove to whom it belonged."
"But why did you not tell me this in the beginning, my child?" he asked
with a note of reproach in his voice. "I might have--"
"Ah, that was to protect you, Padre _mio_! It might have been wiser had
I done so, and yet I think not. I felt impelled to keep you in ignorance
of the facts, for I knew that Don Felipe would stop at nothing. What
would your life have been to him, had you come between him and his
position? His wealth is too vast. I knew that, as surely as you raised
your voice against him, as you would have been obliged to in the
interests of the Church, you one day would have been found dead in some
lonely pass in the mountains while engaged in your Mission work."
Padre Antonio was too astute an observer of men not to perceive the
force of her words.
"I marvel at your sagacity, my child; but think what it has cost you!"
"Ah! that is the marvelous part of it!" she replied. "Whoever would have
imagined that, unconscious of the true facts, he would have succeeded in
turning my own weapons against me? It's fate, Padre _mio_."
He paced back and forth for some time in silence, then suddenly pausing
before her, said: "This cloud must not rest upon you, Chiquita _mia_. We
must find that blackleg, Carlton, if we have to raise heaven and earth
to do it."
"That is easier said than done, Padre _mio_," she answered quietly.
"God never wholly abandons his children to the evil of the world," he
returned firmly. "Don Felipe has deceived the Church once, but he shall
not do so a second time. God has allowed him to triumph thus far in
order that his punishment may be all the greater in the end when it
comes upon him. Carlton must be somewhere just across the border--in
Texas or Arizona or New Mexico. Within twenty-four hours after the word
has been flashed over the wires, runners will have passed through all
our remote Missions along the border, and if he is no longer in Mexico,
then the word shall be passed across the frontier into the United
States. If he still be alive, he can not escape us. We will find him and
bring him back again. No, the Church is not so powerless as many, strong
in worldly possessions, imagine. The Church of Rome has never yet failed
to find the man or woman she has set out to find. Don Felipe will be
stripped of his possessions and his child restored to its rightful
position.
"Again I say, God's ways are past all understanding. You have been His
unconscious instrument. Think of what you were and how you came to me,
and what your life has been since then! Have you endured all for naught?
Are God's plans to be frustrated by a man, a dastardly craven like Don
Felipe? No, my child, I see things clearer now than I ever have seen
them before. You and Captain Forest have not been brought together from
the ends of the earth only to be mocked by the world of evil. God
demands that we all shall pass through the fire in order that we may be
fitted to bear the burden He lays upon us. You both have endured the
trial; proved yourselves worthy of the mission He has entrusted to you."
He paused. Then, suddenly recollecting the all-important question, he
exclaimed: "I forget, we are wasting time; we must find Carlton! This
very night word shall go forth!" and hastily snatching up his hat and
stick, he hurried out into the night.