Before leaving the _patio_, Bessie promised to meet Dick in the garden
after the company dispersed for the night. After the Captain's
departure, Dick returned to the _patio_ and took his stand in the shadow
of the nearest trees, where he awaited her.
Never had her mood appeared so distracted and evasive as that evening.
She had avoided him as much as possible. He was quite at a loss to know
how to take her, and wondered what would be the outcome of their
interview which, he felt, might possibly be their last.
Notwithstanding this melancholy prospect, he still experienced the same
spirit of buoyancy which possessed him during the day. He had caught her
regarding him several times during the evening with what he thought to
be a look of tenderness in her eyes, and this, perhaps, accounted in a
measure for his present elation.
She, in turn, had wondered greatly at the change that had come over him.
How could he possibly be so gay when everybody else was so miserable,
and she thoroughly resented it.
During the interval that had elapsed after the breaking up of the
company, she had participated in a stormy interview with her father and
aunt; the latter endeavoring to point out to her the danger incurred by
holding intercourse with obscure, low-born persons, as had just been
demonstrated in the Captain's case.
She was surprised on returning to her room not to find Blanch there,
but, on second thought, felt it was only natural after what had occurred
that she should want to be alone, and thought she must be somewhere in
the garden. She had seen Dick leave the _patio_ and disappear in the
shadow beyond, whither she directed her steps, passing out and around
the front of the house, as she did not wish to incur the risk of being
seen by her father or aunt.
Dick, who had tossed aside his hat on the grass and stood leaning
against the trunk of a tree, was presently aroused from his meditations
by the object of his thoughts, who stood close beside him.
"Well, I'm here," she said, by way of beginning, looking up into his
face.
"I was looking for you in the other direction," he replied, throwing
away his half-burnt cigar. "I ought to have known better. You are always
doing the opposite of that which one expects."
A smile lit up her face for a moment, as she flashed her beautiful wide
eyes upon him. She seemed a part of that beauteous night, elfish and
delicate as a moonbeam or a flower, fragile as the song of a bird. He
could not speak, but stood drinking her in with his eyes and soul, his
face wearing a mixed expression of rapture and pain. She knew what he
felt, and like him, she, too, struggled with herself for the mastery of
her emotion.
"Do you know," she said at length, "this is the first time I have ever
been guilty of a clandestine meeting with a man. If my father knew I was
here, he would be beside himself."
"Then you did want to come!" he exclaimed.
"Of course. Otherwise, why should I be here?" she responded shyly,
raising her eyes to his for an instant and then lowering them again.
"Bessie!" he cried, starting toward her.
"Hush!" she said, raising her hand in protest and checking him. Had he
taken her in his arms then and there, she would have surrendered without
a struggle, for she was in that soft, languid mood of a woman in love in
spite of herself. But he dared not give way to his impulse. He loved her
too much, and feared lest his impetuosity might ruin forever his chance
of winning her.
"I know it was foolish of me to come, especially when there was no
reason for it," she continued with assumed indifference, casting a
sidelong glance at him out of the corners of her eyes. In spite of the
pain she knew she inflicted, she could not resist flirting with him just
a little even at such a moment. It filled her with such exquisite joy to
feel anew the power she exercised over him and the unfathomable depth of
his love which each fresh thrust at his heart revealed to her.
"I came here," she slowly resumed, "to ask what you think of Chiquita?"
"Think!" he burst forth savagely, aroused almost to a pitch of
desperation by her irritating manner. "Do you take me for as big a fool
as Don Felipe, or--" your father? he was about to add, but checked
himself just in time. "When one has known Chiquita as long as I have,
you don't think things about her, you know. Don Felipe," he went on,
"reminds me of the naughty little boy who one day, while playing in a
park, threw mud on a swan, imagining that he had besmirched the bird
forever until it dived under the water and reappeared again as white as
before. Why, even if I at this moment did not possess the absolute proof
of her innocence, nobody could ever persuade me to believe that story.
You don't know the Indian as I do, Miss Van Ashton. The high-caste
Indian women are quite as incapable of such things as you are. It was a
devilishly clever stroke on Don Felipe's part, I'll admit, but he has
deceived himself as thoroughly as the rest of the world."
"What proof have you?" she asked with a surprised and mystified look,
her woman's curiosity thoroughly aroused. Dick chuckled softly in reply.
"What are you laughing at?" she demanded, not a little nettled by his
manner.
"I'm not laughing," he answered. "I'm merely trying to smother the rage
you have aroused in me by dallying with me in this manner when you know
perfectly well that I asked you to come here to tell you that I--"
"Stop!" she commanded authoritatively. "I wish to see that proof before
anything further passes between us."
"Will you never become serious?" he asked, drawing an envelope from his
pocket, the contents of which he had shown Captain Forest. "It's
strange," he continued, "that this document should concern you as well
as Don Felipe and Chiquita."
"What do you mean?" she asked in astonishment. Again he laughed softly
by way of reply.
"It's funny you should get mixed up in their affairs!"
"I don't understand you," she interrupted, more mystified and irritated
than ever. "Give me that letter, Mr. Yankton!" she demanded, holding out
her hand.
"Then step out into the light, please, you lovely, tantalizing witch,"
he answered, drawing the papers from the envelope and handing them to
her. "If I didn't love you to distraction, I wouldn't stand this sort of
thing a minute longer. God!" he cried, glancing heavenward, "you'll be
the death of me yet."
"Have you forgotten, Mr. Yankton?" she asked calmly, her face turning a
delicate crimson.
"Then read--read!" he cried in desperation, scarcely able to control
himself. She knew it could not last much longer. She slowly unfolded the
large sheets of paper and began to read their contents in the moonlight.
"Aloud, please," he said.
"Why aloud?"
"Oh, just as you please!"
"Very well, if you wish it. 'Dear Dick,' she began with a slight
hesitancy. 'When this reaches you I shall have passed over the border to
that unknown range from whence nobody ever returns. Enclosed you will
find the record of Don Felipe Ramirez's and Pepita Delaguerra's
marriage which, at Don Felipe's instigation, I stole from the register
in the church at Onava, giving him a copy of the same which he
destroyed, believing it to be the original. I did this with the
intention of extorting money from him later on. I and Joaquin Flores and
his wife were the only witnesses to the marriage. But there is a sequel.
Pepita gave birth to a child, a girl, after Felipe deserted her. I
learned later that Chiquita and the two Flores concealed it somewhere in
one of the Indian _pueblos_ near La Jara, as they feared Don Felipe
would make way with the child should he learn of its existence.'
"How strange!" exclaimed Bessie excitedly. "Why, that was Don Felipe's
own child which he introduced this evening and said was Chiquita's."
"Exactly," said Dick, quietly.
"But I don't see what all this has to do with me," she added.
"Proceed, please," he answered. "That's not the only surprise his letter
contains."
Glancing down at the sheets once more she resumed:
"'You will also be greatly surprised to learn that the young lady who
was present on the day you saved my life and whose name I asked, is my
sister.'
"The insinuation is infamous!" she cried, letting the papers fall to the
ground.
"Miss Van Ashton," he interrupted, calmly stooping and picking up the
papers and handing them to her again, "you forget--you are reading the
confession of a dying man."
"His sister!" she continued indignantly. "It can't be possible--I never
had a brother!"
"Please proceed, Miss Van Ashton," he replied. Amazed and bewildered,
Bessie excitedly resumed the reading of the strange letter.
"'My sister never knew me because I left home shortly after she was
born; but, notwithstanding, I recognized her the instant I set eyes on
her, not only owing to the presence of my father that day, but to the
remarkable resemblance she bears to my mother. She is the living image
of her.'" Bessie paused, overcome with agitation.
"How very remarkable," she said, as if to herself. "Every one who knew
my mother says we resemble one another very closely in manner as well as
in looks. My father always keeps our photographs placed side by side on
his desk at home. Except for the difference in the style of dress, it is
almost impossible to tell which is which. What he says does sound true,"
she admitted. "Yet--"
"There can be no doubt of it," broke in Dick. Again Bessie looked down
at the papers and resumed:
"'Before I breathe my last, Dick, I want to tell you that I have
discovered the lead to the old Esmeralda mine; the enclosed chart will
guide you to it. Tell my sister that half of it belongs to her and the
other half to Pepita's child if you are able to find her. Perhaps this
one and only generous act of my selfish life will atone somewhat for my
many misdeeds. Good-by, Dick, and God bless you.'"
"You needn't read that!" he interrupted. But without heeding him, she
continued:
"'You are the best and bravest fellow alive. Good-by, Dick, again, for
the last time.
"'Harry Van Ashton, better known to the world as Bob Carlton, gambler
and--'" The letter ended abruptly. A sob broke from Bessie. Two bright
tears glistened like jewels in the moonlight on her long lashes and then
stole silently down her cheeks.
"Don't take it so hard, Miss Van Ashton," he said. "Your brother was
wild, but not so bad as the world thought him."
"My poor brother!" she murmured.
"I am sure," he resumed after a little, "that when your brother looked
into your eyes that day, his manhood reasserted itself; that he repented
and threw off his past life like an old garment, and from that moment,
stood prepared to enter the presence of his Maker."
"You are very good to say that," she answered, looking up at him with
shining eyes.
"No, it's not good of me at all," he returned. "I love you too much to
say anything but what I know to be true." She did not reply, but
remained lost in thought, her eyes cast on the ground.
"Bessie!" he exclaimed passionately, drawing nearer to her. "Why do you
hesitate? You know that I understand you better than any one else ever
could. You know you love me!" She knew her moment had come; that she
must answer him for all time, and strive as she would, she could not
conceal her confusion. He did not know how intense was the struggle
going on within her, nor realize what it meant to her to give up the
life she had known always.
"And what if I told you," she said at length, her eyes still downcast,
"that I care more for you than anything else in this world, Dick?"
pronouncing his name aloud for the first time. "What would you say
then?"
"That I will love you for all time, Sweetheart! That I will make you the
happiest woman in the world!" he cried, his arms closing about her, and
kissing her full on the lips.
"When we are married," he said at last, "we'll start in search of the
Esmeralda, the famous old Spanish mine that was destroyed by the
earthquake, and if, as your brother said, he really found the lead
again, you and Don Felipe's child will be the two richest women in
Chihuahua."
"Then let it be soon, Dick!" she answered. "Oh! I know I've been
perfectly horrid!" she cried, flinging her arms about his neck in a
fresh outburst, and kissing him again and again. "But I'll make it up to
you, Dick! I'll show you how Bessie Van Ashton can love!" There was
another long silence, during which each could hear the beating of the
other's heart. Then looking up with a pained, disheartened expression on
her face, she said: "I'm sorry I can't come to you with a fortune, Dick.
My father will cast me off, and all I now possess in this world are you
and the clothes on my back."
"Why, you sweet, pathetic little beggar!" he exclaimed, sealing her lips
with a kiss.
"He said he would rather see me dead at his feet than married to you,"
she went on. "Of course, if you were immensely wealthy, he might learn
to tolerate you in time. We're all like that, you know, but as things
are, we'll have to shift as best we can."
"Well, I don't lay claim to much," he said, restraining his mirth with
difficulty. "There's the Esmeralda, you know, but even if that fails us,
there's no cause for immediate worry. We'll find a modest little hovel
somewhere that is large enough to contain our love." And then he laughed
long and loud, laughed as he had never laughed before.
"What are you laughing at?" she inquired, with a dawning suspicion that
he was keeping something from her.
"Oh, nothing," he answered at length. "You'll forgive me, I'm sure, when
I say, that I can't help thinking what an ass your father is!" And
Bessie Van Ashton stepped into a bigger life than she had ever known.