Captain Forest's feelings are better imagined than described. His brain
was in a whirl, on fire. For the second time a woman had treated his
confidence lightly. The whole world seemed to spin round him in chaotic
confusion as he sought to lay hold of a single, tangible thought that
might temper his judgment, steady his nerves and check the fierce
outbursts of passion which were fast sweeping him beyond self-control.
He had reached a state of recklessness that renders a man of his
temperament most dangerous, and unless his judgment soon got the better
of his passions, he would, as likely as not, either kill Chiquita or Don
Felipe, or both of them.
The company had broken up shortly after the departure of Chiquita and
Padre Antonio, leaving the _patio_ silent and deserted, save for the
presence of the Captain, who paced silently back and forth; the moon
flooding the _patio_ with broad sheets of white light, causing objects
to appear almost as sharp and distinct as before the lights of the
lanterns were extinguished.
Blanch, who was the last to leave, would have offered him her sympathy,
but on approaching him, he gave her a look so terrifying that even she
dared not speak to him. She accordingly retired to her room and seated
herself before the open window from which she commanded a view of the
court and could observe him at her leisure. Perhaps he will come to his
senses now, she thought. At any rate, he now knew what she suffered. She
experienced a feeling of cruel satisfaction and exultation while calmly
watching the struggle going on within him as he paced slowly back and
forth.
How strange that they should be there in that out-of-the-way place! In
spite of the terrible ordeal through which she had passed and the
dramatic climax in which the struggle had just culminated, it still
appeared so unreal, so unnatural to her, that she wondered whether she
was not still dreaming and must soon awaken to find herself back in the
old life again and Jack near her, as in the old days. Who could have
foreseen this tragedy, this end to their lives? But a few months
previous all things appeared so clear and defined, so definitely
ordained for them.
Truly the future was veiled--a sealed book for man! Had she been
permitted to dip for but an instant beneath the cover of that book, or
lift the veil ever so little, the catastrophe that had overtaken them
and the suffering it entailed might have been averted.
But no. The strange nemesis that had pursued them step by step had been
permitted to wreck their lives completely. And for what end--what
purpose? Was there no justice, no recompense for them? The answer, she
somehow felt, lay not here, but with the stars--in the great universal
scheme of things, and was quite beyond her reasoning powers.
She felt the utter hopelessness of longer struggling against the unseen,
and in that hour she became a fatalist. Better drift from day to day
without purpose, than living, behold one's dreams and ambitions come to
naught. She was like a strong, self-confident swimmer who had been
caught by the tide and was being swept irresistibly out to sea. Blurred
though her vision was, she seemed to see things clearer than she had
ever seen them before, and she somehow felt that the fate which had
overtaken her was the result of self-aggrandizement--that she in a
measure typified the passing or end of a condition out of whose decay
the new life must spring.
Submit she must, and yet a fierce resentment against all things filled
her soul. She rebelled at the apparent injustice which she felt had been
done her. Why had she, the most fit, been chosen? What had she really
done to merit such an end? She realized that her trouble was
unalterable; that it had its root in the social scheme of things and
nothing she could do could alter it. That in reality it was no fault of
hers, but the fault of her bringing up; that the world which she had
been taught to respect as a thing representing truth and beauty, all
that is best in man, was only a mocking illusion.
The injustice of it amazed, appalled, stunned her. She seemed to think
and move like one in a dream, struggling with shadowy, intangible forces
with which she was incapable to cope. The thought that it was not her
fault only added to her bitterness and agony, and she longed for
death--the death that knows no awakening--to be blotted out utterly, and
forever. Her life was devoid of hope, there was nothing to look forward
to, the future had become a blank.
A low moan, in which was expressed the despair and agony of men since
the beginning of time, escaped her. She pressed her cold hands to her
burning, throbbing temples and prayed that, whatever her end might be,
it would come swiftly.
Again she raised her head and glanced through the open window. To her
surprise she saw the tall form of Dick Yankton leaning against one of
the pillars of the arcade that ran round the _patio_. He was smoking
quietly and observing the Captain, who still strode back and forth
apparently unaware of his presence. Suddenly the Captain stopped short
as if he had come to a decision. As he did so, he turned half round and
saw Dick, whom he regarded for some moments in silence. Then, going over
to where he stood, she heard him exclaim: "It's not true, Dick, I don't
believe it. I'm going to her now and tell her so!" At the same instant
she also saw Don Felipe glide noiselessly and stealthily from one of the
doors opening on to the _patio_ and pause in the deep shadow of the
arcade next to the wall, close to where they stood. Instantly she was on
her feet and leaning forward, breathless and eager to catch all that was
said.
"Neither do I believe it," answered Dick. "But I wouldn't have told you
so. I wanted you to make up your mind first, and if you hadn't said so
just now, I wouldn't show you this, either," he continued, drawing from
his inner coat pocket a large envelope from which he took a letter and
handed it to the Captain.
She saw the sheet of paper tremble in the Captain's hands as he read its
contents. Again Dick handed him another sheet somewhat larger and
darker than the first. He seized it eagerly, glancing hurriedly over its
contents, his hands trembling more violently than before.
"Marvelous!" he exclaimed excitedly, looking at Dick. "And yet," he
added, "it's not so strange after all; it's so natural!"
Blanch uttered a suppressed cry. She felt that her last chance of
winning back the Captain was gone forever. It was a last stab at her
heart. At this juncture José appeared from out the shadows of the garden
beyond the _patio_ and hurriedly approached them. She heard him say
something in Spanish which she did not understand. Then, all became
blurred before her eyes. She felt herself begin to sway and totter--she
fainted.
* * * * *
Following José, the Captain and Dick came upon Starlight, quietly
cropping the grass in the garden, just outside the corral. On hearing
their approach, the Chestnut raised his head, and, seeing his master,
gave a low whinny of recognition. Close beside him on the grass lay a
dark, shapeless object which, on closer inspection, proved to be the
remains of Juan Ramon, trampled almost beyond recognition by the
stallion's terrible hoofs.
While Chiquita was being confronted by Don Felipe and the attention of
every one was occupied by the scene that followed, Juan seized the
opportunity for which he had been waiting. Stealing quietly away to the
corrals, he deftly flung a _riata_ over the stallion's head, and,
looping it about the animal's nose, was on his back with a bound.
There was no question of Juan's ability to ride him. Once on a horse's
back, he had never yet been unseated. He had expected the Chestnut to
rear and plunge, to fight desperately on finding a stranger on his back
and he was prepared for it, but greatly to his surprise, the horse
showed no signs of fight and went meekly out of the corral at his
bidding. All went well until they reached the garden, and Juan was
beginning to congratulate himself on making his escape so easily, when
suddenly and without warning, the Chestnut stopped short, reached round
with his head, and seizing Juan by the leg with his teeth, jerked him to
the ground. Juan heard the stallion's fierce cry of rage, and--that was
the end.
The luck had changed again for Juan, and with it vanished his fair dream
of life on the little _hacienda_ with the pretty Rosita.
José had long been aware of Juan's intentions regarding the horse, and
laughed quietly to himself as he thought of the trap Juan was laying for
himself. That afternoon he appeared to be drinking heavily, and early in
the evening feigned intoxication in order that Juan might go to his
death which he knew awaited him should he so much as lay his hand on the
horse.
When Blanch regained consciousness once more, she found herself in a
half sitting and kneeling posture before the window with one arm resting
on the sill. She must have been unconscious for some time, for when she
came to herself, she again saw Captain Forest and Dick standing in the
_patio_ conversing in low tones. They soon separated, Dick going into
the house, and the Captain making his way through the garden. She knew
he was on his way to Chiquita. She also saw Don Felipe steal from the
shadow of his concealment and follow him.
A great fear seized her. She felt the imminence of a disaster greater
than that which had already occurred. Something terrible was about to
happen. The thought aroused her to action and she hurriedly rose to her
feet. If possible, she would prevent that final catastrophe which her
intuition told her was imminent--which she knew must overtake either one
or all three of them should Don Felipe and the Captain meet again that
night in Chiquita's presence.
There was not a moment to lose, and seizing a light wrap which lay on a
chair beside her, she flung it about her shoulders and hurriedly left
the room.