Perhaps all was not yet lost. The Padre's words and attitude acted like
a wonderful elixir upon Chiquita. They buoyed her up, lifted her soul
from the dust where it had been flung and trampled upon.
The house oppressed her, and sleep being impossible, she opened the door
and stepped out into the garden and wandered along the paths that led in
and out among the flowers and shrubs, inhaling the delicious night air,
faintly perfumed with the delicate fragrance of mignonette and
heliotrope and a few last roses.
The fresh air and the beauty and quiet of the night soothed her. She
felt her strength return, and a great calm took possession of her as she
moved to and fro in the moonlight, now casting her eyes toward the
stars, now downward at the wan, drooping heads of the flowers which
swayed gently in the faint night breeze. Her face radiantly beautiful,
her jewels flashing against the pale white setting of her dress and her
tawny skin, she resembled more the lovely ghost of some long-departed
Spanish woman that had returned to earth to revisit familiar haunts,
than one still among the living.
What was he doing now? she asked herself. It was impossible that he
should continue to believe in her. It was more than could be expected;
no one but Padre Antonio was capable of that. Just then she heard the
sound of footsteps on the walk outside the wall and a moment later, the
click of the latch on the gate as it swung open. She thought it must be
Padre Antonio come back again, and she turned to meet him. A faint,
suppressed cry escaped her, for there, just inside the gate, stood
Captain Forest.
He had evidently not yet seen her and paused as if uncertain whether to
advance. She stood in the open space beside the bench, just off the
pathway leading from the gate to the house, along which he must advance
should he decide to proceed farther. A pale, plumy spray of tamarisk
intervened between them, otherwise he must have seen her. For some time
he stood silent and motionless as if uncertain what to do, then he began
to advance slowly in her direction.
What did he want? Why had he come at this hour? Her heart beat high and
she began to tremble with excitement as she watched him coming toward
her.
Her wan, pale dress so closely resembled the moonlight in the shadow of
the tamarisk that he might have passed her unnoticed had she not
unconsciously closed her half-open fan which she was nervously clasping
in both hands. It shut with a soft, faint snap, causing him to stop and
turn in her direction.
"Chiquita!" he cried, and springing forward, had her in his arms before
she could prevent it.
"No, no; you must not!" she cried, overcome by his suddenness and vainly
struggling to free herself.
"Chiquita," he went on without heeding her, "I could not wait until
morning, and came to tell you again that I believe in you--that I love
you--that nothing but death can separate us in this life!"
She saw and felt the uselessness of struggling against his great
strength and will, so she relaxed her efforts and became quite passive
in his arms, her face cast down. Besides, it seemed as though all her
strength had left her. She trembled so violently and felt so weak that
she must have sunk to the ground had he not supported her.
"Sweetheart!" he cried more passionately than ever. "What do we care for
the world? Look up and say you will come with me!" Her soul thrilled
with the rapture his words caused her.
"Jack," she said at length, raising her head and looking up into his
face, "I love you too much to do that. Not until my name has been
cleared--" They heard a rustling sound on the other side of the
tamarisk. Another moment, and the long, plumy sprays parted and Don
Felipe stepped into the pathway. His face was ashen pale and wore the
look of a thoroughly desperate man.
"Captain Forest," he began, breaking the painful silence that ensued, "I
have vowed that you shall never marry her. I give you one more chance,"
and he raised his right arm and pointed toward the gate. "Go, while
there is yet time!" he commanded, his voice vibrant with passion. "Go
back to the _Posada_ at once and saddle your horse and leave the country
this very night. If you do not--"
"You think to intimidate me?" interrupted the Captain, quietly
releasing Chiquita from his arms and confronting him.
"Once more--will you go?" demanded Don Felipe in a harsh, fierce voice.
"No!" answered the Captain.
"Then your blood be upon your own head!" he cried, and without a
moment's warning, he drew a long knife from his inner breast pocket and
rushed furiously upon him.
"Coward, to attack an unarmed man!" cried the Captain, springing aside
just in time to avoid his thrust. Without replying, Don Felipe whirled
with the swiftness of a cat and rushed at him again. The Captain glanced
hurriedly about him in search of some weapon of defense. Close at hand
he espied a small, fragile, gilt chair that had been left there by
chance during the day. Seizing it by the back with both hands he raised
it aloft and aimed a swift blow at his adversary, but the latter
cleverly dodged it by dropping on one knee. The chair crashed to the
ground with terrific force, its fragments flying in all directions.
Captain Forest was a wonderfully active man for his size. Before Don
Felipe was on his feet again, he sprang forward and seized his right
arm. The two men grappled desperately for some moments, but what was Don
Felipe in the hands of a giant. Suddenly the knife went whirling back
over the Captain's shoulder, forming a glittering half-circle in the
moonlight as it fell among the flowers. Then Captain Forest lifted Don
Felipe with both hands as easily as he would have lifted a child and
hurled him violently to the ground several feet away. A smothered cry of
pain escaped him.
"Lie there, dog!" said the Captain, contemptuously.
"Not so, Captain Forest--we're not done yet!" answered Don Felipe,
rising with difficulty on one knee. From his hip pocket he drew a
pistol.
"Don Felipe Ramirez!" came Chiquita's voice, ringing clear; but he did
not heed the warning. Instantly her hand went to her breast and there
were two almost simultaneous shots. Don Felipe sprang into the air with
a loud cry, alighting upright upon both feet. He gasped, staggered
forward a pace, and then sank down on his knees. Again he gasped,
clutched desperately at his heart with his left hand, and then, with a
last supreme effort, slowly raised his weapon with his trembling hand
and once more took aim at the Captain. There was another quick flash and
report, and Don Felipe Ramirez lay dead on the ground between them.
In silence they gazed at one another across Don Felipe's body. The
Captain was about to speak when they were startled by a low moan just
behind them, and, turning, they saw Blanch sink slowly to the bench in a
sitting posture, her head resting on her arm across the back of the
bench. In an instant they were at her side.
[Illustration: "They were startled by a low moan and saw Blanch sink
slowly to the bench."]
"Blanch!" cried the Captain in consternation at the sight of the blood
that was oozing slowly from her left side, and which Chiquita was vainly
endeavoring to stanch with her handkerchief. At the sound of his voice,
she slowly opened her eyes.
"Forgive me," she whispered in an almost inaudible tone, as they knelt
on either side of her, supporting her. For some moments she lay quite
motionless, then a slight tremor passed through her and with a little
sigh like that of a child's, her head slipped down upon Chiquita's
breast. The bullet which Don Felipe had intended for the Captain had
passed through her heart; the penalty she paid for giving the signal in
the _patio_.
The moonlight fell full across her face, which, contrary to what one
might suppose, wore an expression of peace and calm, almost a smile,
like one in a dream.
"How beautiful she is!" murmured Chiquita, holding her tenderly in her
arms.
"Would to God she had been spared!" answered the Captain, his voice
choking with emotion. Yet each felt as they gazed on her upturned face,
whose expression was rather that of sleep than of death, that she was
better off thus; for what did life hold for her?