suppression in her clear gaze; if anything, only the faintest look of
wonder at his astonishment. And he--this jealously guarded secret, the
curse of his whole wretched life, had been guessed by this simple girl,
without comment, without reserve, without horror! And there had been no
scene, no convulsion of Nature, no tragedy; he had not thrown himself
into yonder sea; she had not fled from him shrinking, but was sitting
there opposite to him in gentle smiling expectation, the golden light
of Todos Santos around them, a bit of bright ribbon shining in her dark
hair, and he, miserable, outcast, and recluse, had not even changed his
position, but was looking up without tremulousness or excitement, and
smiling, too.
He raised himself suddenly on his knee.
"And what if it were all true?" he demanded.
"I should be very sorry for you, and glad it were all over now," she
said softly.
A faint pink flush covered her cheek the next moment, as if she had
suddenly become aware of another meaning in her speech, and she turned
her head hastily towards the village. To her relief she discerned that a
number of Indian children had approached them from behind and had halted
a few paces from the cross. Their hands were full of flowers and shells
as they stood hesitatingly watching the couple.
"They are some of the school-children," said Hurlstone, in answer to her
inquiring look; "but I can't understand why they come here so openly."
"Oh, don't scold them!" said Eleanor, forgetting her previous orthodox
protest; "let us go away, and pretend we don't notice them."
But as she was about to rise to her feet the hesitation of the little
creatures ended in a sudden advance of the whole body, and before she
comprehended what they were doing they had pressed the whole of their
floral tributes in her lap. The color rose again quickly to her laughing
face as she looked at Hurlstone.
"Do you usually get up this pretty surprise for visitors?" she said
hesitatingly.
"I assure you I have nothing to do with it," he answered, with frank
amazement; "it's quite spontaneous. And look--they are even decorating
ME."
It was true; they had thrown a half dozen strings of shells on
Hurlstone's unresisting shoulders, and, unheeding the few words he
laughingly addressed them in their own dialect, they ran off a few
paces, and remained standing, as if gravely contemplating their work.
Suddenly, with a little outcry of terror, they turned, fled wildly past
them, and disappeared in the bushes.
Miss Keene and Hurlstone rose at the same moment, but the young girl,
taking a step forward, suddenly staggered, and was obliged to clasp one
of the arms of the cross to keep herself from falling. Hurlstone sprang
to her side.
"Are you ill?" he asked hurriedly. "You are quite white. What is the
matter?"
A smile crossed her colorless face.
"I am certainly very giddy; everything seems to tremble."
"Perhaps it is the flowers," he said anxiously. "Their heavy perfume in
this close air affects you. Throw them away, for Heaven's sake!"
But she clutched them tighter to her heart as she leaned for a moment,
pale yet smiling, against the cross.
"No, no!" she said earnestly; "it was not that. But the children were
frightened, and their alarm terrified me. There, it is over now."
She let him help her to her seat again as he glanced hurriedly around
him. It must have been sympathy with her, for he was conscious of a
slight vertigo himself. The air was very close and still. Even the
pleasant murmur of the waves had ceased.
"How very low the tide is!" said Eleanor Keene, resting her elbow on
her knees and her round chin upon her hand. "I wonder if that could have
frightened those dear little midgets?" The tide, in fact, had left the
shore quite bare and muddy for nearly a quarter of a mile to seaward.
Hurlstone arose, with grave eyes, but a voice that was unchanged.
"Suppose we inquire? Lean on my arm, and we'll go up the hill towards
the Mission garden. Bring your flowers with you."
The color had quite returned to her cheek as she leant on his proffered
arm. Yet perhaps she was really weaker than she knew, for he felt the
soft pressure of her hand and the gentle abandonment of her figure
against his own as they moved on. But for some preoccupying thought,
he might have yielded more completely to the pleasure of that innocent
contact and have drawn her closer towards him; yet they moved steadily
on, he contenting himself from time to time with a hurried glance at
the downcast fringes of the eyes beside him. Presently he stopped,
his attention disturbed by what appeared to be the fluttering of a
black-winged, red-crested bird, in the bushes before him. The next
moment he discovered it to be the rose-covered head of Dona Isabel, who
was running towards them. Eleanor withdrew her arm from Hurlstone's.
"Ah, imbecile!" said Dona Isabel, pouncing upon Eleanor Keene like an
affectionate panther. "They have said you were on the seashore, and I
fly for you as a bird. Tell to me quick," she whispered, hastily putting
her own little brown ear against Miss Keene's mouth, "immediatamente,
are you much happy?"
"Where is Mr. Brace?" said Miss Keene, trying to effect a diversion, as
she laughed and struggled to get free from her tormentor.
"He, the idiot boy! Naturally, when he is for use, he comes not. But
as a maniac--ever! I would that I have him no more. You will to me
presently give your--brother! I have since to-day a presentimiento that
him I shall love! Ah!"
She pressed her little brown fist, still tightly clutching her fan,
against her low bodice, as if already transfixed with a secret and
absorbing passion.
"Well, you shall have Dick then," said Miss Keene, laughing; "but was it
for THAT you were seeking me?"
"Mother of God! you know not then what has happened? You are a blind--a
deaf--to but one thing all the time? Ah!" she said quickly, unfolding
her fan and modestly diving her little head behind it, "I have ashamed
for you, Miss Keene."
"But WHAT has happened?" said Hurlstone, interposing to relieve his
companion. "We fancied something"--
"Something! he says something!--ah, that something was a temblor! An
earthquake! The earth has shaken himself. Look!"
She pointed with her fan to the shore, where the sea had suddenly
returned in a turbulence of foam and billows that was breaking over the
base of the cross they had just quitted.
Miss Keene drew a quick sigh. Dona Isabel had ducked again modestly
behind her fan, but this time dragging with her other arm Miss Keene's
head down to share its discreet shadow as she whispered,--
"And--infatuated one!--you two never noticed it!"
CHAPTER V.
CLOUDS AND CHANGE.
The earthquake shock, although the first experienced by the Americans,
had been a yearly phenomenon to the people of Todos Santos, and was so
slight as to leave little impression upon either the low adobe walls of
the pueblo or the indolent population. "If it's a provision of Nature
for shaking up these Rip Van Winkle Latin races now and then, it's a
dead failure, as far as Todos Santos is concerned," Crosby had said,
with a yawn. "Brace, who's got geology on the brain ever since he
struck cinnabar ore, says he isn't sure the Injins ain't right when they
believe that the Pacific Ocean used to roll straight up to the Presidio,
and there wasn't any channel--and that reef of rocks was upheaved in
their time. But what's the use of it? it never really waked them up."
"Perhaps they're waiting for another kind of earthquake," Winslow had
responded sententiously.
In six weeks it had been forgotten, except by three people--Miss Keene,
James Hurlstone, and Padre Esteban. Since Hurlstone had parted with
Miss Keene on that memorable afternoon he had apparently lapsed into his
former reserve. Without seeming to avoid her timid advances, he met
her seldom, and then only in the presence of the Padre or Mrs. Markham.
Although uneasy at the deprivation of his society, his present shyness
did not affect her as it had done at first: she knew it was no longer
indifference; she even fancied she understood it from what had been her
own feelings. If he no longer raised his eyes to hers as frankly as he
had that day, she felt a more delicate pleasure in the consciousness of
his lowered eyelids when they met, and the instinct that told her
when his melancholy glance followed her unobserved. The sex of these
lovers--if we may call them so who had never exchanged a word of
love--seemed to be changed. It was Miss Keene who now sought him with a
respectful and frank admiration; it was Hurlstone who now tried to
avoid it with a feminine dread of reciprocal display. Once she had even
adverted to the episode of the cross. They were standing under the arch
of the refectory door, waiting for Padre Esteban, and looking towards
the sea.
"Do you think we were ever in any real danger, down there, on the
shore--that day?" she said timidly.
"No; not from the sea," he replied, looking at her with a half defiant
resolution.
"From what then?" she asked, with a naivete that was yet a little
conscious.
"Do you remember the children giving you their offerings that day?" he
asked abruptly.
"I do," she replied, with smiling eyes.
"Well, it appears that it is the custom for the betrothed couples to
come to the cross to exchange their vows. They mistook us for lovers."
All the instinctive delicacy of Miss Keene's womanhood resented the rude
infelicity of this speech and the flippant manner of its utterance. She
did not blush, but lifted her clear eyes calmly to his.
"It was an unfortunate mistake," she said coldly, "the more so as they
were your pupils. Ah! here is Father Esteban," she added, with a marked
tone of relief, as she crossed over to the priest's side.
When Father Esteban returned to the refectory that evening, Hurlstone
was absent. When it grew later, becoming uneasy, the good Father sought
him in the garden. At the end of the avenue of pear-trees there was a
break in the sea-wall, and here, with his face to the sea, Hurlstone was
leaning gloomily. Father Esteban's tread was noiseless, and he had laid
his soft hand on the young man's shoulder before Hurlstone was aware
of his presence. He started slightly, his gloomy eyes fell before the
priest's.
"My son," said the old man gravely, "this must go on no longer."
"I don't understand you," Hurlstone replied coldly.
"Do not try to deceive yourself, nor me. Above all, do not try to
deceive HER. Either you are or are not in love with this countrywoman
of yours. If you are not, my respect for her and my friendship for you
prompts me to save you both from a foolish intimacy that may ripen into
a misplaced affection; if you are already in love with her"--
"I have never spoken a word of love to her!" interrupted Hurlstone
quickly. "I have even tried to avoid her since"--
"Since you found that you loved her! Ah, foolish boy! and you think that
because the lips speak not, the passions of the heart are stilled! Do
you think your silence in her presence is not a protestation that she,
even she, child as she is, can read, with the cunning of her sex?"
"Well--if I am in love with her, what then?" said Hurlstone doggedly.
"It is no crime to love a pure and simple girl. Am I not free? You
yourself, in yonder church, told me"--
"Silence, Diego," said the priest sternly. "Silence, before you utter
the thought that shall disgrace you to speak and me to hear!"
"Forgive me, Father Esteban," said the young man hurriedly, grasping
both hands of the priest. "Forgive me--I am mad--distracted--but I swear
to you I only meant"--
"Hush!" interrupted the priest more gently. "So; that will do." He
stopped, drew out his snuff-box, rapped the lid, and took a pinch of
snuff slowly. "We will not recur to that point. Then you have told her
the story of your life?"
"No; but I will, She shall know all--everything--before I utter a word
of love to her."
"Ah! bueno! muy bueno!" said the Padre, wiping his nose ostentatiously.
"Ah! let me see! Then, when we have shown her that we cannot possibly
marry her, we will begin to make love to her! Eh, eh! that is the
American fashion. Ah, pardon!" he continued, in response to a gesture
of protestation from Hurlstone; "I am wrong. It is when we have told her
that we cannot marry her as a Protestant, that we will make love as a
Catholic. Is that it?"
"Hear me," said Hurlstone passionately. "You have saved me from madness
and, perhaps, death. Your care--your kindness--your teachings have given
me life again. Don't blame me, Father Esteban, if, in casting off my old
self, you have given me hopes of a new and fresher life--of"--
"A newer and fresher love, you would say," said the Padre, with a sad
smile. "Be it so. You will at least do justice to the old priest, when
you remember that he never pressed you to take vows that would have
prevented this forever."
"I know it," said Hurlstone, taking the old man's hand. "And you will
remember, too, that I was happy and contented before this came upon me.
Tell me what I shall do. Be my guide--my friend, Father Esteban. Put me
where I was a few months ago--before I learned to love her."
"Do you mean it, Diego?" said the old man, grasping his hand tightly,
and fixing his eyes upon him.
"I do."
"Then listen to me, for it is my turn to speak. When, eight months ago,
you sought the shelter of that blessed roof, it was for refuge from a
woman that had cursed your life. It was given you. You would leave it
now to commit an act that would bring another woman, as mad as yourself,
clamoring at its doors for protection from YOU. For what you are
proposing to this innocent girl is what you accepted from the older and
wickeder woman. You have been cursed because a woman divided for you
what was before God an indivisible right; and you, Diego, would now
redivide that with another, whom you dare to say you LOVE! You would use
the opportunity of her helplessness and loneliness here to convince
her; you would tempt her with sympathy, for she is unhappy; with
companionship, for she has no longer the world to choose from--with
everything that should make her sacred from your pursuit."
"Enough," said Hurlstone hoarsely; "say no more. Only I implore you tell
me what to do now to save her. I will--if you tell me to do it--leave
her forever."
"Why should YOU go?" said the priest quietly. "HER absence will be
sufficient."
"HER absence?" echoed Hurlstone.
"Hers alone. The conditions that brought YOU here are unchanged. You
are still in need of an asylum from the world and the wife you have
repudiated. Why should you abandon it? For the girl, there is no cause
why she should remain--beyond yourself. She has a brother whom she
loves--who wants her--who has the right to claim her at any time. She
will go to him."
"But how?"
"That has been my secret, and will be my sacrifice to you, Diego, my
son. I have foreseen all this; I have expected it from the day that
girl sent you her woman's message, that was half a challenge, from
her school--I have known it from the day you walked together on the
sea-shore. I was blind before that--for I am weak in my way, too, and
I had dreamed of other things. God has willed it otherwise." He paused,
and returning the pressure of Hurlstone's hand, went on. "My secret and
my sacrifice for you is this. For the last two hundred years the Church
has had a secret and trusty messenger from the See at Guadalajara--in
a ship that touches here for a few hours only every three years. Her
arrival and departure is known only to myself and my brothers of the
Council. By this wisdom and the provision of God, the integrity of
the Holy Church and the conversion of the heathen have been maintained
without interruption and interference. You know now, my son, why your
comrades were placed under surveillance; why it was necessary that the
people should believe in a political conspiracy among yourselves,
rather than the facts as they existed, which might have bred a dangerous
curiosity among them. I have given you our secret, Diego--that is but a
part of my sacrifice. When that ship arrives, and she is expected
daily, I will secretly place Miss Keene and her friend on board, with
explanatory letters to the Archbishop, and she will be assisted to
rejoin her brother. It will be against the wishes of the Council; but my
will," continued the old man, with a gesture of imperiousness, "is the
will of the Church, and the law that overrides all."
He had stopped, with a strange fire in his eyes. It still continued to
burn as he went on rapidly,--
"You will understand the sacrifice I am making in telling you this, when
you know that I could have done all that I propose without your leave or
hindrance. Yes, Diego; I had but to stretch out my hand thus, and that
foolish fire-brand of a heretic muchacha would have vanished from Todos
Santos forever. I could have left you in your fool's paradise, and one
morning you would have found her gone. I should have condoled with you,
and consoled you, and you would have forgotten her as you did the other.
I should not have hesitated; it is the right of the Church through all
time to break through those carnal ties without heed of the suffering
flesh, and I ought to have done so. This, and this alone, would have
been worthy of Las Casas and Junipero Serra! But I am weak and old--I
am no longer fit for His work. Far better that the ship which takes her
away should bring back my successor and one more worthy Todos Santos
than I."
He stopped, his eyes dimmed, he buried his face in his hands.
"You have done right, Father Esteban," said Hurlstone, gently putting
his arm round the priest's shoulders, "and I swear to you your secret is
as safe as if you had never revealed it to me. Perhaps," he added, with
a sigh, "I should have been happier if I had not known it--if she had
passed out of my life as mysteriously as she had entered it; but you
will try to accept my sacrifice as some return for yours. I shall see
her no more."
"But will you swear it?" said the priest eagerly. "Will you swear that
you will not even seek her to say farewell; for in that moment the
wretched girl may shake your resolution?"
"I shall not see her," repeated the young man slowly.
"But if she asks an interview," persisted the priest, "on the pretense
of having your advice?"
"She will not," returned Hurlstone, with a half bitter recollection of
their last parting. "You do not know her pride."
"Perhaps," said the priest musingly. "But I have YOUR word, Diego. And
now let us return to the Mission, for there is much to prepare, and you
shall assist me."
Meantime, Hurlstone was only half right in his estimate of Miss Keene's
feelings, although the result was the same. The first shock to her
delicacy in his abrupt speech had been succeeded by a renewal of her
uneasiness concerning his past life or history. While she would, in her
unselfish attachment for him, have undoubtingly accepted any explanation
he might have chosen to give her, his continued reserve and avoidance of
her left full scope to her imaginings. Rejecting any hypothesis of his
history except that of some unfortunate love episode, she began to think
that perhaps he still loved this nameless woman. Had anything occurred
to renew his affection? It was impossible, in their isolated condition,
that he would hear from her. But perhaps the priest might have been a
confidant of his past, and had recalled the old affection in rivalry of
her? Or had she herself been unfortunate through any idle word to reopen
the wound? Had there been any suggestion?--she checked herself suddenly
at a thought that benumbed and chilled her!--perhaps that happy hour at
the cross might have reminded him of some episode with another? That was
the real significance of his rude speech. With this first taste of the
poison of jealousy upon her virgin lips, she seized the cup and drank it
eagerly. Ah, well--he should keep his blissful recollections of the
past undisturbed by her. Perhaps he might even see--though SHE had no
past--that her present life might be as disturbing to him! She recalled,
with a foolish pleasure, his solitary faint sneer at the devotion of
the Commander's Secretary. Why shouldn't she, hereafter, encourage
that devotion as well as that sneer from this complacently beloved Mr.
Hurlstone? Why should he be so assured of her past? The fair and
gentle reader who may be shocked at this revelation of Eleanor Keene's
character will remember that she has not been recorded as an angel in
these pages--but as a very human, honest, inexperienced girl, for the
first time struggling with the most diplomatic, Machiavellian, and
hypocritical of all the passions.
In pursuance of this new resolution, she determined to accept an
invitation from Mrs. Markham to accompany her and the Commander to
a reception at the Alcalde's house--the happy Secretary being of the
party. Mrs. Markham, who was under promise to the Comandante not to
reveal his plan for the escape of herself and Miss Keene until the
arrival of the expected transport, had paid little attention to the late
vagaries of her friend, and had contented herself by once saying, with
a marked emphasis, that the more free they kept themselves from any
entanglements with other people, the more prepared they would be for A
CHANGE.
"Perhaps it's just as well not to be too free, even with those Jesuits
over at the Mission. Your brother, you know, might not like it."
"THOSE JESUITS!" repeated Miss Keene indignantly. "Father Esteban, to
begin with, is a Franciscan, and Mr. Hurlstone is as orthodox as you or
I."
"Don't be too sure of that, my dear," returned Mrs. Markham
sententiously. "Heaven only knows what disguises they assume. Why,
Hurlstone and the priest are already as thick as two peas; and you can't
make me believe they didn't know of each other before we came here. He
was the first one ashore, you remember, before the mutiny; and where
did he turn up?--at the Mission, of course! And have you forgotten that
sleepwalking affair--all Jesuitical! Why, poor dear Markham used to say
we were surrounded by ramifications of that society--everywhere. The
very waiter at your hotel table might belong to the Order."
The hour of the siesta was just past, and the corridor and gardens of
the Alcalde's house were grouped with friends and acquaintances as
the party from the Presidio entered. Mrs. Brimmer, who had apparently
effected a temporary compromise with her late instincts of propriety,
was still doing the honors of the Alcalde's house, and had once more
assumed the Mexican dishabille, even to the slight exposure of her
small feet, stockingless, in white satin slippers. The presence of the
Comandante and his Secretary guaranteed the two ladies of their party a
reception at least faultless in form and respect, whatever may have been
the secret feelings of the hostess and her friends. The Alcalde received
Mrs. Markham and Miss Keene with unruffled courtesy, and conducted them
to the place of honor beside him.
As Eleanor Keene, slightly flushed and beautiful in her unwonted nervous
excitement, took her seat, a flutter went around the corridor, and, with
the single exception of Dona Isabel, an almost imperceptible drawing
together of the other ladies, in offensive alliance. Miss Keene had
never abandoned her own style of dress; and that afternoon her delicate
and closely-fitting white muslin, gathered in at the waist with a broad
blue belt of ribbon, seemed to accentuate somewhat unflatteringly the
tropical neglige of Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Chubb. Brace, who was in
attendance, with Crosby, on the two Ramirez girls, could not help being
uneasily conscious of this, in addition to the awkwardness of meeting
Miss Keene after the transfer of his affections elsewhere. Nor was his
embarrassment relieved by Crosby's confidences to him, in a half audible
whisper,--
"I say, old man, after all, the regular straight-out American style lays
over all their foreign flops and fandoodles. I wonder what old Brimmer
would say to his wife's full-dress nightgown--eh?"
But at this moment the long-drawn, slightly stridulous utterances of
Mrs. Brimmer rose through the other greetings like a lazy east wind.
"I shall never forgive the Commander for making the Presidio so
attractive to you, dear Miss Keene, that you cannot really find time to
see your own countrymen. Though, of course, you're not to blame for not
coming to see two frights as we must look--not having been educated to
be able to do up our dresses in that faultless style--and perhaps not
having the entire control over an establishment like you; yet, I suppose
that, even if the Alcalde did give us carte blanche of the laundry HERE,
we couldn't do it, unaided even by Mrs. Markham. Yes, dear; you must let
me compliment you on your skill, and the way you make things last. As
for me and Miss Chubb, we've only found our things fit to be given away
to the poor of the Mission. But I suppose even that charity would look
as shabby to you as our clothes, in comparison with the really good
missionary work you and Mr. Hurlstone--or is it Mr. Brace?--I always
confound your admirers, my dear--are doing now. At least, so says that
good Father Esteban."
But with the exception of the Alcalde and Miss Chubb, Mrs. Brimmer's
words fell on unheeding ears, and Miss Keene did not prejudice the
triumph of her own superior attractions by seeming to notice Mrs.
Brimmer's innuendo. She answered briefly, and entered into lively
conversation with Crosby and the Secretary, holding the hand of Dona
Isabel in her own, as if to assure her that she was guiltless of any
design against her former admirer. This was quite unnecessary, as the
gentle Isabel, after bidding Brace, with a rap on the knuckles, to "go
and play," contented herself with curling up like a kitten beside Miss
Keene, and left that gentleman to wander somewhat aimlessly in the
patio.
Nevertheless, Miss Keene, whose eyes and ears were nervously alert, and
who had indulged a faint hope of meeting Padre Esteban and hearing news
of Hurlstone, glanced from time to time towards the entrance of the
patio. A singular presentiment that some outcome of this present visit
would determine her relations with Hurlstone had already possessed her.
Consequently she was conscious, before it had attracted the attention
of the others, of some vague stirring in the plaza beyond. Suddenly
the clatter of hoofs was heard before the gateway. There was a moment's
pause of dismounting, a gruff order given in Spanish, and the next
moment three strangers entered the patio.
They were dressed in red shirts, their white trousers tucked in high
boots, and wore slouched hats. They were so travel-stained, dusty, and
unshaven, that their features were barely distinguishable. One, who
appeared to be the spokesman of the party, cast a perfunctory glance
around the corridor, and, in fluent Spanish, began with the mechanical
air of a man repeating some formula,--
"We are the bearers of a despatch to the Comandante of Todos Santos from
the Governor of Mazatlan. The officer and the escort who came with us
are outside the gate. We have been told that the Comandante is in this
house. The case is urgent, or we would not intrude"--
He was stopped by the voice of Mrs. Markham from the corridor. "Well,
I don't understand Spanish much--I may be a fool, or crazy, or perhaps
both--but if that isn't James Markham's VOICE, I'll bet a cooky!"
The three strangers turned quickly toward the corridor. The next moment
the youngest of their party advanced eagerly towards Miss Keene, who had
arisen with a half frightened joy, and with the cry of "Why, it's Nell!"
ran towards her. The third man came slowly forward as Mrs. Brimmer
slipped hastily from the hammock and stood erect.
"In the name of goodness, Barbara," said Mr. Brimmer, closing upon her,
in a slow, portentous whisper, "where ARE your stockings?"
CHAPTER VI.
A MORE IMPORTANT ARRIVAL.
The Commander was the first to recover his presence of mind. Taking
the despatch from the hands of the unlooked-for husband of the woman he
loved, he opened it with an immovable face and habitual precision. Then,
turning with a military salute to the strangers, he bade them join him
in half an hour at the Presidio; and, bowing gravely to the assembled
company, stepped from the corridor. But Mrs. Markham was before him,
stopped him with a gesture, and turned to her husband.
"James Markham--where's your hand?"
Markham, embarrassed but subjugated, disengaged it timidly from his
wife's waist.
"Give it to that gentleman--for a gentleman he is, from the crown of
his head to the soles of his boots! There! Shake his hand! You don't get
such a chance every day. You can thank him again, later."
As the two men's hands parted, after this perfunctory grasp, and the
Commander passed on, she turned again to her husband.
"Now, James, I am ready to hear all about it. Perhaps you'll tell me
where you HAVE been?"
There was a moment of embarrassing silence. The Doctor and Secretary
had discreetly withdrawn; the Alcalde, after a brief introduction to Mr.
Brimmer, and an incomprehensible glance from the wife, had retired with
a colorless face. Dona Isabel had lingered last to blow a kiss across
her fan to Eleanor Keene that half mischievously included her brother.
The Americans were alone.
Thus appealed to, Mr. Markham hastily began his story. But, as he
progressed, a slight incoherency was noticeable: he occasionally
contradicted himself, and was obliged to be sustained, supplemented,
and, at times, corrected, by Keene and Brimmer. Substantially, it
appeared that they had come from San Francisco to Mazatlan, and, through
the influence of Mr. Brimmer on the Mexican authorities, their party,
with an escort of dragoons, had been transported across the gulf and
landed on the opposite shore, where they had made a forced march across
the desert to Todos Santos. Literally interpreted, however, by the
nervous Markham, it would seem that they had conceived this expedition
long ago, and yet had difficulties because they only thought of it the
day before the steamer sailed; that they had embarked for the isthmus of
Nicaragua, and yet had stopped at Mazatlan; that their information
was complete in San Francisco, and only picked up at Mazatlan; that
"friends"--sometimes contradictorily known as "he" and "she"--had
overpowering influence with the Mexican Government, and alone had helped
them, and yet that they were utterly dependent upon the efforts of Senor
Perkins, who had compromised matters with the Mexican Government and
everybody.
"Do you mean to say, James Markham, that you've seen Perkins, and it was
he who told you we were here?"
"No--not HIM exactly."
"Let me explain," said Mr. Brimmer hastily. "It appears," he corrected
his haste with practical businesslike precision, "that the filibuster
Perkins, after debarking you here, and taking the Excelsior to
Quinquinambo, actually established the Quinquinambo Government, and
got Mexico and the other confederacies to recognize its independence.
Quinquinambo behaved very handsomely, and not only allowed the Mexican
Government indemnity for breaking the neutrality of Todos Santos by the
seizure, but even compromised with our own Government their claim to
confiscate the Excelsior for treaty violation, and paid half the value
of the vessel, besides giving information to Mexico and Washington of
your whereabouts. We consequently represent a joint commission from both
countries to settle the matter and arrange for your return."
"But what I want to know is this: Is it to Senor Perkins that we
ought to be thankful for seeing you here at all?" asked Mrs. Markham
impatiently.
"No, no--not that, exactly," stammered Markham. "Oh, come now,
Susannah"--
"No," said Richard Keene earnestly; "by Jove! some thanks ought to go to
Belle Montgomery"--He checked himself in sudden consternation.
There was a chilly silence. Even Miss Keene looked anxiously at her
brother, as the voice of Mrs. Brimmer for the first time broke the
silence.
"May we be permitted to know who is this person to whom we owe so great
an obligation?"
"Certainly," said Brimmer, "She was--as I have already intimated--a
friend; possibly, you know," he added, turning lightly to his
companions, as if to corroborate an impression that had just struck him,
"perhaps a--a--a sweetheart of the Senor Perkins."
"And how was she so interested in us, pray?" said Mrs. Markham.
"Well, you see, she had an idea that a former husband was on board of
the Excelsior."
He stopped suddenly, remembering from the astonished faces of Keene and
Markham that the secret was not known to them, while they, impressed
with the belief that the story was a sudden invention of Brimmer's, with
difficulty preserved their composure. But the women were quick to notice
their confusion, and promptly disbelieved Brimmer's explanation.
"Well, as there's no Mister Montgomery here, she's probably mistaken,"
said Mrs. Markham, with decision, "though it strikes ME that she's very
likely had the same delusion on board of some other ship. Come along,
James; perhaps after you've had a bath and some clean clothes, you may
come out a little more like the man I once knew. I don't know how Mrs.
Brimmer feels, but I feel more as if I required to be introduced to
you--than your friend's friend, Mrs. Montgomery. At any rate, try and
look and behave a little more decent when you go over to the Presidio."
With these words she dragged him away. Mr. Brimmer, after a futile
attempt to appear at his ease, promptly effected the usual marital
diversion of carrying the war into the enemy's camp.
"For heaven's sake, Barbara," he said, with ostentatious indignation,
"go and dress yourself properly. Had you neither money nor credit to
purchase clothes? I declare I didn't know you at first; and when I did,
I was shocked; before Mrs. Markham, too!"
"Mrs. Markham, I fear, has quite enough to occupy her now," said Mrs.
Brimmer shortly, as she turned away, with hysterically moist eyes,
leaving her husband to follow her.
Oblivious of this comedy, Richard Keene and Eleanor had already wandered
back, hand in hand, to their days of childhood. But even in the joy that
filled the young girl's heart in the presence of her only kinsman, there
was a strange reservation. The meeting that she had looked forward to
with eager longing had brought all she expected; more than that, it
seemed to have been providentially anticipated at the moment of her
greatest need, and yet it was incomplete. She was ashamed that after the
first recognition, a wild desire to run to Hurlstone and tell HIM her
happiness was her only thought. She was shocked that the bright joyous
face of this handsome lovable boy could not shut out the melancholy
austere features of Hurlstone, which seemed to rise reproachfully
between them. When, for the third and fourth time, they had recounted
their past history, exchanged their confidences and feelings, Dick,
passing his arm around his sister's waist, looked down smilingly in her
eyes.
"And so, after all, little Nell, everybody has been good to you, and you
have been happy!"
"Everybody has been kind to me, Dick, far kinder than I deserved. Even
if I had really been the great lady that little Dona Isabel thought I
was, or the important person the Commander believed me to be, I couldn't
have been treated more kindly. I have met with nothing but respect and
attention. I have been very happy, Dick, very happy."
And with a little cry she threw herself on her brother's neck and burst
into a childlike flood of inconsistent tears.
Meantime the news of the arrival of the relief-party had penetrated
even the peaceful cloisters of the Mission, and Father Esteban had been
summoned in haste to the Council. He returned with an eager face to
Hurlstone, who had been anxiously awaiting him. When the Padre had
imparted the full particulars of the event to his companion, he added
gravely,--
"You see, my son, how Providence, which has protected you since you
first claimed the Church's sanctuary, has again interfered to spare
me the sacrifice of using the power of the Church in purely mundane
passions. I weekly accept the rebuke of His better-ordained ways, and
you, Diego, may comfort yourself that this girl is restored directly
to her brother's care, without any deviousness of plan or human
responsibility. You do not speak, my son!" continued the priest
anxiously; "can it be possible that, in the face of this gracious
approval of Providence to your resolution, you are regretting it?"
The young man replied, with a half reproachful gesture:
"Do you, then, think me still so weak? No, Father Esteban; I have
steeled myself against my selfishness for her sake. I could have
resigned her to the escape you had planned, believing her happier
for it, and ignorant of the real condition of the man she had learnt
to--to--pity. But," he added, turning suddenly and almost rudely upon
the priest, "do you know the meaning of this irruption of the outer
world to ME? Do you reflect that these men probably know my miserable
story?--that, as one of the passengers of the Excelsior, they will be
obliged to seek me and to restore me," he added, with a bitter laugh,
"to MY home, MY kindred--to the world I loathe?"
"But you need not follow them. Remain here."
"Here!--with the door thrown open to any talebearer OR PERHAPS TO MY
WIFE HERSELF? Never! Hear me, Father," he went on hurriedly: "these men
have come from San Francisco--have been to Mazatlan. Can you believe
that it is possible that they have never heard of this woman's search
for me? No! The quest of hate is as strong as the quest of love, and
more merciless to the hunted."
"But if that were so, foolish boy, she would have accompanied them."
"You are wrong! It would have been enough for her to have sent my
exposure by them--to have driven me from this refuge."
"This is but futile fancy, Diego," said Father Esteban, with a simulated
assurance he was far from feeling. "Nothing has yet been said--nothing
may be said. Wait, my child."
"Wait!" he echoed bitterly. "Ay, wait until the poor girl shall
hear--perhaps from her brother's lips--the story of my marriage as
bandied about by others; wait for her to know that the man who would
have made her love him was another's, and unworthy of her respect? No!
it is I who must leave this place, and at once."
"YOU?" echoed the Padre. "How?"
"By the same means you would have used for her departure. I must take
her place in that ship you are expecting. You will give ME letters
to your friends. Perhaps, when this is over, I may return--if I still
live."
Padre Esteban became thoughtful.
"You will not refuse me?" said the young man, taking the Padre's hand.
"It is for the best, believe me. I will remain secret here until then.
You will invent some excuse--illness, or what you like--to keep them
from penetrating here. Above all, to spare me from the misery of ever
reading my secret in her face."
Father Esteban remained still absorbed in thought.
"You will take a letter from me to the Archbishop, and put yourself
under his care?" he asked at last, after a long pause. "You will promise
me that?"
"I do!"
"Then we shall see what can be done. They talk, those Americanos,"
continued the priest, "of making their way up the coast to Punta St.
Jago, where the ship they have already sent for to take them away can
approach the shore; and the Comandante has orders to furnish them
escort and transport to that point. It is a foolish indiscretion of the
Government, and I warrant without the sanction of the Church. Already
there is curiosity, discontent, and wild talk among the people. Ah! thou
sayest truly, my son," said the old man, gloomily; "the doors of Todos
Santos are open. The Comandante will speed these heretics quickly on
their way; but the doors by which they came and whence they go will
never close again. But God's will be done! And if the open doors bring
thee back, my son, I shall not question His will!"
It would seem, however, as if Hurlstone's fears had been groundless. For
in the excitement of the succeeding days, and the mingling of the party
from San Antonio with the new-comers, the recluse had been forgotten. So
habitual, had been his isolation from the others, that, except for the
words of praise and gratitude hesitatingly dropped by Miss Keene to her
brother, his name was not mentioned, and it might have been possible for
the relieving party to have left him behind--unnoticed. Mr. Brimmer,
for domestic reasons, was quite willing to allow the episode of Miss
Montgomery's connection with their expedition to drop for the present.
Her name was only recalled once by Miss Keene. When Dick had professed
a sudden and violent admiration for the coquettish Dona Isabel, Eleanor
had looked up in her brother's face with a half troubled air.
"Who was this queer Montgomery woman, Dick?" she said.
Dick laughed--a frank, reassuring, heart-free laugh.
"Perfectly stunning, Nell. Such a figure in tights! You ought to have
seen her dance--my!"
"Hush! I dare say she was horrid!"
"Not at all! She wasn't such a bad fellow, if you left out her poetry
and gush, which I didn't go in for much,--though the other fellows"--he
stopped, from a sudden sense of loyalty to Brimmer and Markham. "No;
you see, Nell, she was regularly ridiculously struck after that man
Perkins,--whom she'd never seen,--a kind of schoolgirl worship for a
pirate. You know how you women go in for those fellows with a mystery
about 'em."
"No, I don't!" said Miss Keene sharply, with a slight rise of color;
"and I don't see what that's got to do with you and her."
"Everything! She was in correspondence with Perkins, and knows about the
Excelsior affair, and wants to help him get out of it with clean hands,
don't you see! That's why she made up to us. There, Nell; she ain't your
style, of course; but you owe a heap to her for giving us points as to
where you were. But that's all over now; she left us at Mazatlan, and
went on to Nicaragua to meet Perkins somewhere there--for the fellow has
always got some Central American revolution on hand, it appears. Until
they garrote or shoot him some day, he'll go on in the liberating
business forever."
"Then there wasn't any Mr. Montgomery, of course?" said Eleanor.
"Oh, Mr. Montgomery," said Dick, hesitating. "Well, you see, Nell, I
think that, knowing how correct and all that sort of thing Brimmer is,
she sort of invented the husband to make her interest look more proper."
"It's shameful!" said Miss Keene indignantly.
"Come, Nell; one would think you had a personal dislike to her. Let her
go; she won't trouble you--nor, I reckon, ANYBODY, much longer."
"What do you mean, Dick?"
"I mean she has regularly exhausted and burnt herself out with her
hysterics and excitements, and the drugs she's taken to subdue them--to
say nothing of the Panama fever she got last spring. If she don't go
regularly crazy at last she'll have another attack of fever, hanging
round the isthmus waiting for Perkins."
Meanwhile, undisturbed by excitement or intrusion of the outer world,
the days had passed quietly at the Mission. But one evening, at
twilight, a swift-footed, lightly-clad Indian glided into the sacristy
as if he had slipped from the outlying fog, and almost immediately
as quietly glided away again and disappeared. The next moment Father
Esteban's gaunt and agitated face appeared at Hurlstone's door.
"My son, God has been merciful, and cut short your probation. The signal
of the ship has just been made. Her boat will be waiting on the beach
two leagues from here an hour hence. Are you ready? and are you still
resolved?"
"I am," said Hurlstone, rising. "I have been prepared since you first
assented."
The old man's lips quivered slightly, and the great brown hand laid upon
the table trembled for an instant; with a strong effort he recovered
himself, and said hurriedly,--
"Concho's mule is saddled and ready for you at the foot of the garden.
You will follow the beach a league beyond the Indians' cross. In the
boat will await you the trusty messenger of the Church. You will say to
him, 'Guadalajara,' and give him these letters. One is to the captain.
You will require no other introduction." He laid the papers on the
table, and, turning to Hurlstone, lifted his tremulous hands in the air.
"And now, my son, may the grace of God"--
He faltered and stopped, his uplifted arms falling helplessly on
Hurlstone's shoulders. For an instant the young man supported him in his
arms, then placed him gently in the chair he had just quitted, and for
the first time in their intimacy dropped upon his knee before him. The
old man, with a faint smile, placed his hand upon his companion's head.
A breathless pause followed; Father Esteban's lips moved silently.
Suddenly the young man rose, pressed his lips hurriedly to the Father's
hand, and passed out into the night.
The moon was already suffusing the dropping veil of fog above him with
that nebulous, mysterious radiance he had noticed the first night he
had approached the Mission. When he reached the cross he dismounted,
and gathering a few of the sweet-scented blossoms that crept around its
base, placed them in his breast. Then, remounting, he continued his way
until he came to the spot designated by Concho as a fitting place to
leave his tethered mule. This done, he proceeded on foot about a mile
further along the hard, wet sand, his eyes fixed on the narrow strip of
water and shore before him that was yet uninvaded by the fog on either
side.
The misty, nebulous light, the strange silence, broken only by the
occasional low hurried whisper of some spent wave that sent its film of
spume across his path, or filled his footprints behind him, possessed
him with vague presentiments and imaginings. At times he fancied he
heard voices at his side; at times indistinct figures loomed through
the mist before him. At last what seemed to be his own shadow faintly
impinged upon the mist at one side impressed him so strongly that he
stopped; the apparition stopped too. Continuing a few hundred paces
further, he stopped again; but this time the ghostly figure passed on,
and convinced him that it was no shadow, but some one actually following
him. With an angry challenge he advanced towards it. It quickly
retreated inland, and was lost. Irritated and suspicious he turned back
towards the water, and was amazed to see before him, not twenty yards
away, the object of his quest--a boat, with two men in it, kept in
position by the occasional lazy dip of an oar. In the pursuit of his
mysterious shadow he had evidently overlooked it. As his own figure
emerged from the fog, the boat pulled towards him. The priest's password
was upon his lips, when he perceived that the TWO men were common
foreign sailors; the messenger of the Church was evidently not there.
Could it have been he who had haunted him? He paused irresolutely. "Is
there none other coming?" he asked. The two men looked at each other.
One said, "Quien sabe!" and shrugged his shoulders. Hurlstone without
further hesitation leaped aboard.
The same dull wall of vapor--at times thickening to an almost
impenetrable barrier, and again half suffocating him in its soft
embrace--which he had breasted on the night he swam ashore, carried back
his thoughts to that time, now so remote and unreal. And when, after a
few moments' silent rowing, the boat approached a black hulk that
seemed to have started forward out of the gloom to meet them, his vague
recollection began to take a more definite form. As he climbed up the
companion-ladder and boarded the vessel, an inexplicable memory came
over him. A petty officer on the gangway advanced silently and ushered
him, half dazed and bewildered, into the cabin. He glanced hurriedly
around: the door of a state-room opened, and disclosed the indomitable
and affable Senor Perkins! A slight expression of surprise, however,
crossed the features of the Liberator of Quinquinambo as he advanced
with outstretched hand.
"This is really a surprise, my dear fellow! I had no idea that YOU
were in this affair. But I am delighted to welcome you once more to the
Excelsior!"
CHAPTER VII.
THE RETURN OF THE EXCELSIOR.
Amazed and disconcerted, Hurlstone, nevertheless, retained his presence
of mind.
"There must be some mistake," he said coolly; "I am certainly not the
person you seem to be expecting."
"Were you not sent here by Winslow?" demanded Perkins.
"No. The person you are looking for is probably one I saw on the shore.
He no doubt became alarmed at my approach, and has allowed me quite
unwittingly to take his place in the boat."
Perkins examined Hurlstone keenly for a moment, stepped to the door,
gave a brief order, and returned.
"Then, if you did not intend the honor of this visit for me," he
resumed, with a smile, "may I ask, my dear fellow, whom you expected
to meet, and on what ship? There are not so many at Todos Santos, if my
memory serves me right, as to create confusion."
"I must decline to answer that question," said Hurlstone curtly.
The Senor smiled, with an accession of his old gentleness.
"My dear young friend," he said, "have you forgotten that on a far more
important occasion to YOU, I showed no desire to pry into your secret?"
Hurlstone made a movement of deprecation. "Nor have I any such desire
now. But for the sake of our coming to an understanding as friends,
let me answer the question for you. You are here, my dear fellow, as
a messenger from the Mission of Todos Santos to the Ecclesiastical
Commission from Guadalajara, whose ship touches here every three years.
It is now due. You have mistaken this vessel for theirs."
Hurlstone remained silent.
"It is no secret," continued Senor Perkins blandly; "nor shall I pretend
to conceal MY purpose here, which is on the invitation of certain
distressed patriots of Todos Santos, to assist them in their deliverance
from the effete tyranny of the Church and its Government. I have been
fortunate enough to anticipate the arrival of your vessel, as you were
fortunate enough to anticipate the arrival of my messenger. I am doubly
fortunate, as it gives me the pleasure of your company this evening,
and necessitates no further trouble than the return of the boat for the
other gentleman--which has already gone. Doubtless you may know him."
"I must warn you again, Senor Perkins," said Hurlstone sternly, "that
I have no connection with any political party; nor have I any sympathy
with your purpose against the constituted authorities."
"I am willing to believe that you have no political affinities at all,
my dear Mr. Hurlstone," returned Perkins, with unruffled composure,
"and, consequently, we will not argue as to what is the constituted
authority of Todos Santos. Perhaps to-morrow it may be on board THIS
SHIP, and I may still have the pleasure of making you at home here!"
"Until then," said Hurlstone dryly, "at least you will allow me to
repair my error by returning to the shore."
"For the moment I hardly think it would be wise," replied Perkins
gently. "Allowing that you escaped the vigilance of my friends on the
shore, whose suspicions you have aroused, and who might do you some
injury, you would feel it your duty to inform those who sent you of the
presence of my ship, and thus precipitate a collision between my
friends and yours, which would be promotive of ill-feeling, and perhaps
bloodshed. You know my peaceful disposition, Mr. Hurlstone; you can
hardly expect me to countenance an act of folly that would be in
violation of it."
"In other words, having decoyed me here on board your ship, you intend
to detain me," said Hurlstone insultingly.
"'Decoy,'" said Perkins, in gentle deprecation, "'decoy' is hardly the
word I expected from a gentleman who has been so unfortunate as to take,
unsolicited and of his own free will, another person's place in a boat.
But," he continued, assuming an easy argumentative attitude, "let us
look at it from your view-point. Let us imagine that YOUR ship had
anticipated mine, and that MY messenger had unwittingly gone on board of
HER. What do you think they would have done to him?"
"They would have hung him at the yard-arm, as he deserved," said
Hurlstone unflinchingly.
"You are wrong," said Perkins gently. "They would have given him the
alternative of betraying his trust, and confessing everything--which he
would probably have accepted. Pardon me!--this is no insinuation against
you," he interrupted,--"but I regret to say that my experience with the
effete Latin races of this continent has not inspired me with confidence
in their loyalty to trust. Let me give you an instance," he continued,
smiling: "the ship you are expecting is supposed to be an inviolable
secret of the Church, but it is known to me--to my friends ashore--and
even to you, my poor friend, a heretic! More than that, I am told that
the Comandante, the Padre, and Alcalde are actually arranging to deport
some of the American women by this vessel, which has been hitherto
sacred to the emissaries of the Church alone. But you probably know
this--it is doubtless part of your errand. I only mention it to convince
you that I have certainly no need either to know your secrets, to hang
you from the yard-arm if you refused to give them up, or to hold you
as hostage for my messenger, who, as I have shown you, can take care of
himself. I shall not ask you for that secret despatch you undoubtedly
carry next your heart, because I don't want it. You are at liberty to
keep it until you can deliver it, or drop it out of that port-hole
into the sea--as you choose. But I hear the boat returning," continued
Perkins, rising gently from his seat as the sound of oars came faintly
alongside, "and no doubt with Winslow's messenger. I am sorry you won't
let me bring you together. I dare say he knows all about you, and it
really need not alter your opinions."
"One moment," said Hurlstone, stunned, yet incredulous of Perkins's
revelations. "You said that both the Comandante and Alcalde had arranged
to send away certain ladies--are you not mistaken?"
"I think not," said Perkins quietly, looking over a pile of papers on
the table before him. "Yes, here it is," he continued, reading from
a memorandum: "'Don Ramon Ramirez arranged with Pepe for the secret
carrying off of Dona Barbara Brimmer.' Why, that was six weeks ago, and
here we have the Comandante suborning one Marcia, a dragoon, to abduct
Mrs. Markham--by Jove, my old friend!--and Dona Leonor--our beauty, was
she not? Yes, here it is: in black and white. Read it, if you like,--and
pardon me for one moment, while I receive this unlucky messenger."
Left to himself, Hurlstone barely glanced at the memorandum, which
seemed to be the rough minutes of some society. He believed Perkins; but
was it possible that the Padre could be ignorant of the designs of his
fellow-councilors? And if he were not--if he had long before been in
complicity with them for the removal of Eleanor, might he not also have
duped him, Hurlstone, and sent him on this mission as a mere blind;
and--more infamously--perhaps even thus decoyed him on board the wrong
ship? No--it was impossible! His honest blood quickly flew to his cheek
at that momentary disloyal suspicion.
Nevertheless, the Senor's bland revelations filled him with vague
uneasiness. SHE was safe with her brother now; but what if he and
the other Americans were engaged in this ridiculous conspiracy, this
pot-house rebellion that Father Esteban had spoken of, and which he had
always treated with such contempt? It seemed strange that Perkins had
said nothing of the arrival of the relieving party from the Gulf, and
its probable effect on the malcontents. Did he know it? or was the news
now being brought by this messenger whom he, Hurlstone, had supplanted?
If so, when and how had Perkins received the intelligence that brought
him to Todos Santos? The young man could scarcely repress a bitter smile
as he remembered the accepted idea of Todos Santos' inviolability--that
inaccessible port that had within six weeks secretly summoned Perkins
to its assistance! And it was there he believed himself secure!
What security had he at all? Might not this strange, unimpassioned,
omniscient man already know HIS secret as he had known the others'?
The interview of Perkins with the messenger in the next cabin was a long
one, and apparently a stormy one on the part of the newcomer. Hurlstone
could hear his excited foreign voice, shrill with the small vehemence of
a shallow character; but there was no change in the slow, measured tones
of the Senor. He listlessly began to turn over the papers on the table.
Presently he paused. He had taken up a sheet of paper on which Senor
Perkins had evidently been essaying some composition in verse. It seemed
to have been of a lugubrious character. The titular line at the top
of the page, "Dirge," had been crossed out for the substituted "In
Memoriam." He read carelessly:
"O Muse unmet--but not unwept--
I seek thy sacred haunt in vain.
Too late, alas! the tryst is kept--
We may not meet again!
"I sought thee 'midst the orange bloom,
To find that thou hadst grasped the palm
Of martyr, and the silent tomb
Had hid thee in its calm.
"By fever racked, thou languishest
On Nicaragua's"--
Hurlstone threw the paper aside. Although he had not forgotten the
Senor's reputation for sentimental extravagance, and on another occasion
might have laughed at it, there was something so monstrous in
this hysterical, morbid composition of the man who was even then
contemplating bloodshed and crime, that he was disgusted. Like most
sentimental egotists, Hurlstone was exceedingly intolerant of that
quality in others, and he turned for relief to his own thoughts of
Eleanor Keene and his own unfortunate passion. HE could not have written
poetry at such a moment!
But the cabin-door opened, and Senor Perkins appeared. Whatever might
have been the excited condition of his unknown visitor, the Senor's
round, clean-shaven face was smiling and undisturbed by emotion. As
his eye fell on the page of manuscript Hurlstone had just cast down, a
slight shadow crossed his beneficent expanse of forehead, and deepened
in his soft dark eyes; but the next moment it was chased away by his
quick recurring smile. Even thus transient and superficial was his
feeling, thought Hurlstone.
"I have some news for you," said Perkins affably, "which may alter your
decision about returning. My friends ashore," he continued, "judging
from the ingenuous specimen which has just visited me, are more
remarkable for their temporary zeal and spasmodic devotion than for
prudent reserve or lasting discretion. They have submitted a list to me
of those whom they consider dangerous to Mexican liberty, and whom they
are desirous of hanging. I regret to say that the list is illogical, and
the request inopportune. Our friend Mr. Banks is put down as an ally
of the Government and an objectionable business rival of that eminent
patriot and well-known drover, Senor Martinez, who just called upon me.
Mr. Crosby's humor is considered subversive of a proper respect for all
patriotism; but I cannot understand why they have added YOUR name as
especially 'dangerous.'"
Hurlstone made a gesture of contempt.
"I suppose they pay me the respect of considering me a friend of the
old priest. So be it! I hope they will let the responsibility fall on me
alone."
"The Padre is already proscribed as one of the Council," said Senor
Perkins quietly.
"Do you mean to say," said Hurlstone impetuously, "that you will permit
a hair of that innocent old man's head to be harmed by those wretches?"
"You are generous but hasty, my friend," said Senor Perkins, in gentle
deprecation. "Allow me to put your question in another way. Ask me if
I intend to perpetuate the Catholic Church in Todos Santos by adding
another martyr to its roll, and I will tell you--No! I need not say
that I am equally opposed to any proceedings against Banks, Crosby, and
yourself, for diplomatic reasons, apart from the kindly memories of our
old associations on this ship. I have therefore been obliged to return
to the excellent Martinez his little list, with the remark that I should
hold HIM personally responsible if any of you are molested. There
is, however, no danger. Messrs. Banks and Crosby are with the other
Americans, whom we have guaranteed to protect, at the Mission, in the
care of your friend the Padre. You are surprised! Equally so was the
Padre. Had you delayed your departure an hour you would have met them,
and I should have been debarred the pleasure of your company.
"By to-morrow," continued Perkins, placing the tips of his fingers
together reflectively, "the Government of Todos Santos will have changed
hands, and without bloodshed. You look incredulous! My dear young
friend, it has been a part of my professional pride to show the world
that these revolutions can be accomplished as peacefully as our own
changes of administration. But for a few infelicitous accidents, this
would have been the case of the late liberation of Quinquinambo. The
only risk run is to myself--the leader, and that is as it should be. But
all this personal explanation is, doubtless, uninteresting to you, my
young friend. I meant only to say that, if you prefer not to remain
here, you can accompany me when I leave the ship at nine o'clock with a
small reconnoitring party, and I will give you safe escort back to your
friends at the Mission."
This amicable proposition produced a sudden revulsion of feeling in
Hurlstone. To return to those people from whom he was fleeing, in what
was scarcely yet a serious emergency, was not to be thought of! Yet,
where could he go? How could he be near enough to assist HER without
again openly casting his lot among them? And would they not consider
his return an act of cowardice? He could not restrain a gesture of
irritation as he rose impatiently to his feet.
"You are agitated, my dear fellow. It is not unworthy of your youth;
but, believe me, it is unnecessary," said Perkins, in his most soothing
manner. "Sit down. You have an hour yet to make your decision. If you
prefer to remain, you will accompany the ship to Todos Santos and join
me."
"I don't comprehend you," interrupted Hurlstone suspiciously.
"I forgot," said Perkins, with a bland smile, "that you are unaware of
our plan of campaign. After communicating with the insurgents, I land
here with a small force to assist them. I do this to anticipate any
action and prevent the interference of the Mexican coaster, now due,
which always touches here through ignorance of the channel leading to
the Bay of Todos Santos and the Presidio. I then send the Excelsior,
that does know the channel, to Todos Santos, to appear before the
Presidio, take the enemy in flank, and cooperate with us. The arrival
of the Excelsior there is the last move of this little game, if I may so
call it: it is 'checkmate to the King,' the clerical Government of Todos
Santos."
A little impressed, in spite of himself, with the calm forethought and
masterful security of the Senor, Hurlstone thanked him with a greater
show of respect than he had hitherto evinced. The Senor looked
gratified, but unfortunately placed that respect the next moment in
peril.
"You were possibly glancing over these verses," he said, with a
hesitating and almost awkward diffidence, indicating the manuscript
Hurlstone had just thrown aside. "It is merely the first rough draft
of a little tribute I had begun to a charming friend. I sometimes," he
interpolated, with an apologetic smile, "trifle with the Muse. Perhaps I
ought not to use the word 'trifle' in connection with a composition of
a threnodial and dirge-like character," he continued deprecatingly.
"Certainly not in the presence of a gentleman as accomplished and
educated as yourself, to whom recreation of this kind is undoubtedly
familiar. My occupations have been, unfortunately, of a nature not
favorable to the indulgence of verse. As a college man yourself, my dear
sir, you will probably forgive the lucubrations of an old graduate of
William and Mary's, who has forgotten his 'ars poetica.' The verses you
have possibly glanced at are crude, I am aware, and perhaps show the
difficulty of expressing at once the dictates of the heart and the
brain. They refer to a dear friend now at peace. You have perhaps,
in happier and more careless hours, heard me speak of Mrs. Euphemia
M'Corkle, of Illinois?"
Hurlstone remembered indistinctly to have heard, even in his reserved
exclusiveness on the Excelsior, the current badinage of the passengers
concerning Senor Perkins' extravagant adulation of this unknown poetess.
As a part of the staple monotonous humor of the voyage, it had only
disgusted him. With a feeling that he was unconsciously sharing the
burlesque relief of the passengers, he said, with a polite attempt at
interest,
"Then the lady is--no more?"
"If that term can be applied to one whose work is immortal," corrected
Senor Perkins gently. "All that was finite of this gifted woman was
lately forwarded by Adams's Express Company from San Juan, to receive
sepulture among her kindred at Keokuk, Iowa."
"Did she say she was from that place?" asked Hurlstone, with half
automatic interest.
"The Consul says she gave that request to the priest."
"Then you were not with her when she died?" said Hurlstone absently.
"I was NEVER with her, neither then nor before," returned Senor Perkins
gravely. Seeing Hurlstone's momentary surprise, he went on, "The late
Mrs. M'Corkle and I never met--we were personally unknown to each other.
You may have observed the epithet 'unmet' in the first line of the first
stanza; you will then understand that the privation of actual contact
with this magnetic soul would naturally impart more difficulty into
elegiac expression."
"Then you never really saw the lady you admire?" said Hurlstone
vacantly.
"Never. The story is a romantic one," said Perkins, with a smile that
was half complacent and yet half embarrassed. "May I tell it to you?
Thanks. Some three years ago I contributed some verses to the columns
of a Western paper edited by a friend of mine. The subject chosen was my
favorite one, 'The Liberation of Mankind,' in which I may possibly have
expressed myself with some poetic fervor on a theme so dear to my heart.
I may remark without vanity, that it received high encomiums--perhaps at
some more opportune moment you may be induced to cast your eyes over a
copy I still retain--but no praise touched me as deeply as a tribute
in verse in another journal from a gifted unknown, who signed herself
'Euphemia.' The subject of the poem, which was dedicated to myself,
was on the liberation of women--from--er--I may say certain domestic
shackles; treated perhaps vaguely, but with grace and vigor. I replied
a week later in a larger poem, recording more fully my theories and
aspirations regarding a struggling Central American confederacy,
addressed to 'Euphemia.' She rejoined with equal elaboration and
detail, referring to a more definite form of tyranny in the relations of
marriage, and alluding with some feeling to uncongenial experiences of
her own. An instinct of natural delicacy, veiled under the hyperbole
of 'want of space,' prevented my editorial friend from encouraging the
repetition of this charming interchange of thought and feeling. But I
procured the fair stranger's address; we began a correspondence, at once
imaginative and sympathetic in expression, if not always poetical
in form. I was called to South America by the Macedonian cry of
'Quinquinambo!' I still corresponded with her. When I returned to
Quinquinambo I received letters from her, dated from San Francisco. I
feel that my words could only fail, my dear Hurlstone, to convey to you
the strength and support I derived from those impassioned breathings
of aid and sympathy at that time. Enough for me to confess that it was
mainly due to the deep womanly interest that SHE took in the fortunes
of the passengers of the Excelsior that I gave the Mexican authorities
early notice of their whereabouts. But, pardon me,"--he stopped
hesitatingly, with a slight flush, as he noticed the utterly inattentive
face and attitude of Hurlstone,--"I am boring you. I am forgetting
that this is only important to myself," he added, with a sigh. "I only
intended to ask your advice in regard to the disposition of certain
manuscripts and effects of hers, which are unconnected with our
acquaintance. I thought, perhaps, I might entrust them to your delicacy
and consideration. They are here, if you choose to look them over; and
here is also what I believe to be a daguerreotype of the lady herself,
but in which I fail to recognize her soul and genius."
He laid a bundle of letters and a morocco case on the table with a
carelessness that was intended to hide a slight shade of disappointment
in his face--and rose.
"I beg your pardon," said Hurlstone, in confused and remorseful apology;
"but I frankly confess that my thoughts WERE preoccupied. Pray forgive
me. If you will leave these papers with me, I promise to devote myself
to them another time."
"As you please," said the Senor, with a slight return of his old
affability. "But don't bore yourself now. Let us go on deck."
He passed out of the cabin as Hurlstone glanced, half mechanically, at
the package before him. Suddenly his cheek reddened; he stopped, looked
hurriedly at the retreating form of Perkins, and picked up a manuscript
from the packet. It was in his wife's handwriting. A sudden idea flashed
across his mind, and seemed to illuminate the obscure monotony of the
story he had just heard. He turned hurriedly to the morocco case, and
opened it with trembling fingers. It was a daguerreotype, faded and
silvered; but the features were those of his wife!
CHAPTER VIII.
HOSTAGE.
The revolution of Todos Santos had to all appearances been effected as
peacefully as the gentle Liberator of Quinquinambo could have wished.
Two pronunciamientos, rudely printed and posted in the Plaza, and
saluted by the fickle garrison of one hundred men, who had, however,
immediately reappointed their old commander as Generalissimo under the
new regime, seemed to leave nothing to be desired. A surging mob of
vacant and wondering peons, bearing a singular resemblance to the wild
cattle and horses which intermingled with them in blind and unceasing
movement across the Plaza and up the hilly street, and seemingly as
incapable of self-government, were alternately dispersed and stampeded
or allowed to gather again as occasion required. Some of these
heterogeneous bands were afterwards found--the revolution
accomplished--gazing stupidly on the sea, or ruminating in bovine
wantonness on the glacis before the Presidio.
Eleanor Keene, who with her countrywomen had been hurried to the refuge
of the Mission, was more disturbed and excited at the prospect of
meeting Hurlstone again than by any terror of the insurrection. But
Hurlstone was not there, and Father Esteban received her with a coldness
she could not attribute entirely to her countrymen's supposed sympathy
with the insurgents. When Richard Keene, who would not leave his sister
until he had seen her safe under the Mission walls, ventured at her
suggestion to ask after the American recluse, Father Esteban replied
dryly that, being a Christian gentleman, Hurlstone was the only one who
had the boldness to seek out the American filibuster Perkins, on his
own ship, and remonstrate with him for his unholy crusade. For the old
priest had already become aware of Hurlstone's blunder, and he hated
Eleanor as the primary cause of the trouble. But for her, Diego would be
still with him in this emergency.
"Never mind, Nell," said Dick, noticing the disappointed eyes of his
sister as they parted, "you'll all be safe here until we return. Between
you and me, Banks, Brimmer, and I think that Brace and Winslow have gone
too far in this matter, and we're going to stop it, unless the whole
thing is over now, as they say."
"Don't believe that," said Crosby. "It's like their infernal
earthquakes; there's always a second shock, and a tidal wave to follow.
I pity Brace, Winslow, and Perkins if they get caught in it."
There seemed to be some reason for his skepticism, for later the calm of
the Mission Garden was broken upon by the monotonous tread of banded men
on the shell-strewn walks, and the door of the refectory opened to
the figure of Senor Perkins. A green silk sash across his breast, a
gold-laced belt, supporting a light dress-sword and a pair of pistols,
buckled around the jaunty waist of his ordinary black frock-coat, were
his scant martial suggestions. But his hat, albeit exchanged for a soft
felt one, still reposed on the back of his benevolent head, and seemed
to accent more than ever the contrast between his peaceful shoulders
and the military smartness of his lower figure. He bowed with easy
politeness to the assembled fugitives; but before he could address them,
Father Esteban had risen to his feet,--
"I thought that this house, at least, was free from the desecrating
footsteps of lawlessness and impiety," said the priest sternly. "How
dare YOU enter here?"
"Nothing but the desire to lend my assistance to the claims of beauty,
innocence, helplessness, and--if you will allow me to add," with a low
bow to the priest--"sanctity, caused this intrusion. For I regret to say
that, through the ill-advised counsels of some of my fellow-patriots,
the Indian tribes attached to this Mission are in revolt, and threaten
even this sacred building."
"It is false!" said Father Esteban indignantly. "Even under the accursed
manipulation of your emissaries, the miserable heathen would not dare to
raise a parricidal hand against the Church that fostered him!"
Senor Perkins smiled gently, but sadly.
"Your belief, reverend sir, does you infinite credit. But, to save
time, let me give way to a gentleman who, I believe, possesses your
confidence. He will confirm my statement."
He drew aside, and allowed Hurlstone, who had been standing unperceived
behind, to step forward. The Padre uttered an exclamation of pleasure.
Miss Keene colored quickly. Hurlstone cast a long and lingering glance
at her, which seemed to the embarrassed girl full of a new, strange
meaning, and then advanced quickly with outstretched hands towards
Father Esteban.
"He speaks truly," he said, hurriedly, "and in the interests of humanity
alone. The Indians have been tampered with treacherously, against his
knowledge and consent. He only seeks now to prevent the consequences of
this folly by placing you and these ladies out of reach of harm aboard
of the Excelsior."
"A very proper and excellent idea," broke in Mrs. Brimmer, with genteel
precision. "You see these people evidently recognize the fact of Mr.
Brimmer's previous ownership of the Excelsior, and the respect that is
due to him. I, for one, shall accept the offer, and insist upon Miss
Chubb accompanying me."
"I shall be charmed to extend the hospitality of the Excelsior to you on
any pretext," said the Senor gallantly, "and, indeed, should insist upon
personally accompanying you and my dear friends Mrs. Markham and Miss
Keene; but, alas! I am required elsewhere. I leave," he continued,
turning towards Hurlstone, who was already absorbed in a whispered
consultation with Padre Esteban--"I leave a sufficient escort with you
to protect your party to the boats which have brought us here. You will
take them to the Excelsior, and join me with the ship off Todos Santos
in the morning. Adieu, my friends! Good-night, and farewell!"
The priest made a vehement movement of protestation, but he was checked
by Hurlstone, as, with a low bow, Senor Perkins passed out into the
darkness. The next moment his voice was heard raised in command, and
the measured tramp of his men gradually receded and was lost in the
distance.
"Does he think," said the priest indignantly, "that I, Padre Esteban,
would desert my sacred trust, and leave His Holy Temple a prey to
sacrilegious trespass? Never, while I live, Diego! Call him back and
tell him so!"
"Rather listen to me, Father Esteban," said the young man earnestly.
"I have a plan by which this may be avoided. From my knowledge of these
Indians, I am convinced that they have been basely tricked and cajoled
by some one. I believe that they are still amenable to reason and
argument, and I am so certain that I am ready to go down among them and
make the attempt. The old Chief and part of his band are still encamped
on the shore; we could hear them as we passed in the boats. I will go
and meet them. If I succeed in bringing them to reason I will return; if
I find them intractable, I will at least divert their attention from the
Mission long enough for you to embark these ladies with their escort,
which you will do at the end of two hours if I do not return."
"In two hours?" broke in Mrs. Brimmer, in sharp protest. "I positively
object. I certainly understood that Senor Perkins' invitation, which,
under the circumstances, I shall consider equal to a command from Mr.
Brimmer, was to be accepted at once and without delay; and I certainly
shall not leave Miss Chubb exposed to imminent danger for two hours to
meet the caprice of an entire stranger to Mr. Brimmer."
"I am willing to stay with Father Esteban, if he will let me," said
Eleanor Keene quietly, "for I have faith in Mr. Hurlstone's influence
and courage, and believe he will be successful."
The young man thanked her with another demonstrative look that brought
the warm blood to her cheek.
"Well," said Mrs. Markham promptly; "I suppose if Nell stays I must
see the thing through and stay with her--even if I haven't orders from
Jimmy."
"There is no necessity that either Mr. or Mrs. Brimmer should be
disobeyed in their wishes," said Hurlstone grimly. "Luckily there are
two boats; Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Chubb can take one of them with half
the escort, and proceed at once to the Excelsior. I will ride with them
as far as the boat. And now," he continued, turning to the old priest,
with sparkling eyes, "I have only to ask your blessing, and the good
wishes of these ladies, to go forth on my mission of peace. If I am
successful," he added, with a light laugh, "confess that a layman and
a heretic may do some service for the Church." As the old man laid his
half detaining, half benedictory hands upon his shoulders, the young man
seized the opportunity to whisper in his ear, "Remember your promise to
tell her ALL I have told you," and, with an other glance at Miss Keene,
he marshalled Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Chubb before him, and hurried them
to the boat.
Miss Keene looked after him with a vague felicity in the change that
seemed to have come on him, a change that she could as little account
for as her own happiness. Was it the excitement of danger that had
overcome his reserve, and set free his compressed will and energy? She
longed for her brother to see him thus--alert, strong, and chivalrous.
In her girlish faith, she had no fear for his safety; he would conquer,
he would succeed; he would come back to them victorious! Looking up from
her happy abstraction, at the side of Mrs. Markham, who had calmly gone
to sleep in an arm-chair, she saw Father Esteban's eyes fixed upon her.
With a warning gesture of the hand towards Mrs. Markham, he rose, and,
going to the door of the sacristy, beckoned to her. The young girl
noiselessly crossed the room and followed him into the sanctuary.
Half an hour later, and while Mrs. Markham was still asleep, Father
Esteban appeared at the door of the sacristy ostentatiously taking
snuff, and using a large red handkerchief to wipe his more than usually
humid eyes. Eleanor Keene, with her chin resting on her hand, remained
sitting as he had left her, with her abstracted eyes fixed vacantly on
the lamp before the statue of the Virgin and the half-lit gloom of the
nave.
Padre Esteban had told her ALL! She now knew Hurlstone's history even
as he had hesitatingly imparted it to the old priest in this very
church--perhaps upon the very seat where she sat. She knew the peace
that he had sought for and found within these walls, broken only by his
passion for her! She knew his struggles against the hopelessness of this
new-born love, even the desperate remedy that had been adopted against
herself, and the later voluntary exile of her lover. She knew
the providential culmination of his trouble in the news brought
unconsciously by Perkins, which, but a few hours ago, he had verified
by the letters, records, and even the certificate of death that had thus
strangely been placed in his hands! She knew all this so clearly now,
that, with the instinct of a sympathetic nature, she even fancied she
had heard it before. She knew that all the obstacles to an exchange
of their affection had been removed; that her lover only waited his
opportunity to hear from her own lips the answer that was even now
struggling at her heart. And yet she hesitated and drew back, half
frightened in the presence of her great happiness. How she longed,
and yet dreaded, to meet him! What if anything should have happened to
him?--what if he should be the victim of some treachery?--what if he did
not come?--what if?--"Good heavens! what was that?"
She was near the door of the sacristy, gazing into the dim and shadowy
church. Either she was going mad, or else the grotesque Indian hangings
of the walls were certainly moving towards her. She rose in speechless
terror, as what she had taken for an uncouthly swathed and draped
barbaric pillar suddenly glided to the window. Crouching against the
wall, she crept breathlessly towards the entrance to the garden. Casting
a hurried glance above her, she saw the open belfry that was illuminated
by the misty radiance of the moon, darkly shadowed by hideously
gibbering faces that peered at her through the broken tracery. With a
cry of horror she threw open the garden-door; but the next moment was
swallowed up in the tumultuous tide of wild and half naked Indians who
surged against the walls of the church, and felt herself lifted from her
feet, with inarticulate cries, and borne along the garden. Even in her
mortal terror, she could recognize that the cries were not those of
rage, but of vacant satisfaction; that although she was lifted on lithe
shoulders, the grasp of her limbs was gentle, and the few dark faces she
could see around her were glistening in childlike curiosity. Presently
she felt herself placed upon the back of a mule, that seemed to be
swayed hither and thither in the shifting mass, and the next moment
the misty, tossing cortege moved forward with a new and more definite
purpose. She called aloud for Father Esteban and Mrs. Markham; her voice
appeared to flow back upon her from the luminous wall of fog that
closed around her. Then the inarticulate, irregular outcries took upon
themselves a measured rhythm, the movement of the mass formed itself
upon the monotonous chant, the intervals grew shorter, the mule broke
into a trot, and then the whole vast multitude fell into a weird,
rhythmical, jogging quick step at her side.
Whatever was the intent of this invasion of the Mission and her own
strange abduction, she was relieved by noticing that they were going in
the same direction as that taken by Hurlstone an hour before. Either he
was cognizant of their movements, and, being powerless to prevent their
attack on the church, had stipulated they were to bring her to him in
safety, or else he was calculating to intercept them on the way. The fog
prevented her from forming any estimation of the numbers that surrounded
her, or if the Padre and Mrs. Markham were possibly preceding her as
captives in the vanguard. She felt the breath of the sea, and knew they
were traveling along the shore; the monotonous chant and jogging motion
gradually dulled her active terror to an apathetic resignation, in which
occasionally her senses seemed to swoon and swim in the dreamy radiance
through which they passed; at times it seemed a dream or nightmare with
which she was hopelessly struggling; at times she was taking part in an
unhallowed pageant, or some heathen sacrificial procession of which she
was the destined victim.
She had no consciousness of how long the hideous journey lasted. Her
benumbed senses were suddenly awakened by a shock; the chant had ceased,
the moving mass in which she was imbedded rolled forward once more as
if by its own elasticity, and then receded again with a jar that almost
unseated her. Then the inarticulate murmur was overborne by a voice. It
was HIS! She turned blindly towards it; but before she could utter the
cry that rose to her lips, she was again lifted from the saddle, carried
forward, and gently placed upon what seemed to be a moss-grown bank.
Opening her half swimming eyes she recognized the Indian cross. The
crowd seemed to recede before her. Her eyes closed again as a strong arm
passed around her waist.
"Speak to me, Miss Keene--Eleanor--my darling!" said Hurlstone's voice.
"O my God! they have killed her!"
With an effort she moved her head and tried to smile. Their eyes, and
then their lips met; she fainted.
When she struggled to her senses again, she was lying in the
stern-sheets of the Excelsior's boat, supported on Mrs. Markham's
shoulder. For an instant the floating veil of fog around her, and the
rhythmical movement of the boat, seemed a part of her mysterious ride,
and she raised her head with a faint cry for Hurlstone.
"It's all right, my dear," said Mrs. Markham, soothingly; "he's ashore
with the Padre, and everything else is all right too. But it's rather
ridiculous to think that those idiotic Indians believed the only way
they could show Mr. Hurlstone that they meant us no harm was to drag
us all up to THEIR Mission, as they call that half heathen cross of
theirs--for safety against--who do you think, dear?--the dreadful
AMERICANS! And imagine all the while the Padre and I were just behind
you, bringing up the rear of the procession--only they wouldn't let us
join you because they wanted to show you special honor as"--she sank her
voice to a whisper in Eleanor's ear--"as the future Mrs. Hurlstone! It
appears they must have noticed something about you two, the last time
you were there, my dear. And--to think--YOU never told me anything about
it!"
When they reached the Excelsior, they found that Mrs. Brimmer, having
already settled herself in the best cabin, was inclined to extend the
hospitalities of the ship with the air of a hostess. But the arrival of
Hurlstone at midnight with some delegated authority from Senor Perkins,
and the unexpected getting under way of the ship, disturbed her
complacency.
"We are going through the channel into the bay of Todos Santos," was the
brief reply vouchsafed her by Hurlstone.
"But why can't we remain here and wait for Mr. Brimmer?" she asked
indignantly.
"Because," responded Hurlstone grimly, "the Excelsior is expected off
the Presidio to-morrow morning to aid the insurgents."
"You don't mean to say that Miss Chubb and myself are to be put in the
attitude of arraying ourselves against the constituted authorities--and,
perhaps, Mr. Brimmer himself?" asked Mrs. Brimmer, in genuine alarm.
"It looks so," said Hurlstone, a little maliciously; "but, no doubt,
your husband and the Senor will arrange it amicably."
To Mrs. Markham and Miss Keene he explained more satisfactorily that
the unexpected disaffection of the Indians had obliged Perkins to so far
change his plans as to disembark his entire force from the Excelsior,
and leave her with only the complement of men necessary to navigate her
through the channel of Todos Santos, where she would peacefully await
his orders, or receive his men in case of defeat.
Nevertheless, as the night was nearly spent, Mrs. Markham and Eleanor
preferred to await the coming day on deck, and watch the progress of the
Excelsior through the mysterious channel. In a few moments the barque
began to feel the combined influence of the tide and the slight morning
breeze, and, after rounding an invisible point, she presently rose and
fell on the larger ocean swell. The pilot, whom Hurlstone recognized
as the former third mate of the Excelsior, appeared to understand the
passage perfectly; and even Hurlstone and the ladies, who had through
eight months' experience become accustomed to the luminous obscurity
of Todos Santos, could detect the faint looming of the headland at the
entrance. The same soothing silence, even the same lulling of the unseen
surf, which broke in gentle undulations over the bar, and seemed to lift
the barque in rocking buoyancy over the slight obstruction, came back to
them as on the day of their fateful advent. The low orders of the pilot,
the cry of the leadsman in the chains, were but a part of the restful
past.
Under the combined influence of the hour and the climate, the
conversation fell into monosyllables, and Mrs. Markham dozed. The lovers
sat silently together, but the memory of a kiss was between them. It
spanned the gulf of the past with an airy bridge, over which their
secret thoughts and fancies passed and repassed with a delicious
security; henceforth they could not flee from that memory, even if they
wished; they read it in each other's lightest glance; they felt it
in the passing touch of each other's hands; it lingered, with vague
tenderness, on the most trivial interchange of thought. Yet they spoke a
little of the future. Eleanor believed that her brother would not object
to their union; he had spoken of entering into business at Todos Santos,
and perhaps when peace and security were restored they might live
together. Hurlstone did not tell her that a brief examination of his
wife's papers had shown him that the property he had set aside for
her maintenance, and from which she had regularly drawn an income, had
increased in value, and left him a rich man. He only pressed her hand,
and whispered that her wishes should be his. They had become tenderly
silent again, as the Excelsior, now fairly in the bay, appeared to be
slowly drifting, with listless sails and idle helm, in languid search of
an anchorage. Suddenly they were startled by a cry from the lookout.
"Sail ho!"
There was an incredulous start on the deck. The mate sprang into the
fore-rigging with an oath of protestation. But at the same moment the
tall masts and spars of a vessel suddenly rose like a phantom out of the
fog at their side. The half disciplined foreign crew uttered a cry
of rage and trepidation, and huddled like sheep in the waist, with
distracted gestures; even the two men at the wheel forsook their post to
run in dazed terror to the taffrail. Before the mate could restore order
to this chaos, the Excelsior had drifted, with a scarcely perceptible
concussion, against the counter of the strange vessel. In an instant a
dozen figures appeared on its bulwarks, and dropped unimpeded upon the
Excelsior's deck. As the foremost one approached the mate, the latter
shrank back in consternation.
"Captain Bunker!"
"Yes," said the figure, advancing with a mocking laugh; "Captain Bunker
it is. Captain Bunker, formerly of this American barque Excelsior, and
now of the Mexican ship La Trinidad. Captain Bunker ez larnt every
foot of that passage in an open boat last August, and didn't forget it
yesterday in a big ship! Captain Bunker ez has just landed a company
of dragoons to relieve the Presidio. What d'ye say to that, Mr.
M'Carthy--eh?"
"I say," answered M'Carthy, raising his voice with a desperate effort to
recover his calmness, "I say that Perkins landed with double that number
of men yesterday around that point, and that he'll be aboard here in
half an hour to make you answer for this insult to his ship and his
Government."
"His Government!" echoed Bunker, with a hoarser laugh; "hear him!--HIS
Government! His Government died at four o'clock this morning, when
his own ringleaders gave him up to the authorities. Ha! Why, this yer
revolution is played out, old man; and Generalissimo Leonidas Perkins is
locked up in the Presidio."
CHAPTER IX.
LIBERATED.
The revolution was, indeed, ended. The unexpected arrival of a relieving
garrison in the bay of Todos Santos had completed what the dissensions
in the insurgents' councils had begun; the discontents, led by Brace and
Winslow, had united with the Government against Perkins and his aliens;
but a compromise had been effected by the treacherous giving up of the
Liberator himself in return for an amnesty granted to his followers.
The part that Bunker had played in bringing about this moral catastrophe
was, however, purely adventitious. When he had recovered his health, and
subsequent events had corroborated the truth of his story, the Mexican
Government, who had compromised with Quinquinambo, was obliged to
recognize his claims by offering him command of the missionary ship, and
permission to rediscover the channel, the secret of which had been lost
for half a century to the Government. He had arrived at the crucial
moment when Perkins' command were scattered along the seashore, and the
dragoons had invested Todos Santos without opposition.
Such was the story substantially told to Hurlstone and confirmed on his
debarkation with the ladies at Todos Santos, the Excelsior being now in
the hands of the authorities. Hurlstone did not hesitate to express to
Padre Esteban his disgust at the treachery which had made a scapegoat of
Senor Perkins. But to his surprise the cautious priest only shrugged his
shoulders as he took a complacent pinch of snuff.
"Have a care, Diego! You are of necessity grateful to this man for
the news he has brought--nay, more, for possibly being the instrument
elected by Providence to precipitate the denouement of that miserable
woman's life--but let it not close your eyes to his infamous political
career. I admit that he was opposed to the revolt of the heathen against
us, but it was his emissaries and his doctrines that poisoned with
heresy the fountains from which they drank. Enough! Be grateful! but do
not expect ME to intercede for Baal and Ashtaroth!"
"Intercede!" echoed Hurlstone, alarmed at the sudden sacerdotal hardness
that had overspread the old priest's face. "Surely the Council will
not be severe with the man who was betrayed into their power by others
equally guilty?"
Padre Esteban avoided Hurlstone's eyes as he answered with affected
coolness,--"Quien sabe? There will be expulsados, no doubt. The
Excelsior, which is confiscated, will be sent to Mexico with them."
"I must see Senor Perkins," said Hurlstone suddenly.
The priest hesitated.
"When?" he asked cautiously.
"At once."
"Good." He wrote a hurried line on a piece of paper, folded it, sealed
it, and gave it to Hurlstone. "You will hand that to the Comandante. He
will give you access to the prisoner."
In less than half an hour Hurlstone presented himself before the
Commander. The events of the last twenty-four hours had evidently
affected Don Miguel, for although he received Hurlstone courteously,
there was a singular reflection of the priest's harshness in his face as
he glanced over the missive. He took out his watch.
"I give you ten minutes with the prisoner, Don Diego. More, I cannot."
A little awed by the manner of the Commander, Hurlstone bowed and
followed him across the courtyard. It was filled with soldiers, and
near the gateway a double file of dragoons, with loaded carbines, were
standing at ease. Two sentries were ranged on each side of an open door
which gave upon the courtyard. The Commander paused before it, and with
a gesture invited him to enter. It was a large square apartment, lighted
only by the open door and a grated enclosure above it. Seated in his
shirtsleeves, before a rude table, Senor Perkins was quietly writing.
The shadow of Hurlstone's figure falling across his paper caused him to
look up.
Whatever anxiety Hurlstone had begun to feel, it was quickly dissipated
by the hearty, affable, and even happy greeting of the prisoner.
"Ah! what! my young friend Hurlstone! Again an unexpected pleasure," he
said, extending his white hands. "And again you find me wooing the Muse,
in, I fear, hesitating numbers." He pointed to the sheet of paper before
him, which showed some attempts at versification. "But I confess to a
singular fascination in the exercise of poetic composition, in instants
of leisure like this--a fascination which, as a man of imagination
yourself, you can appreciate."
"And I am sorry to find you here, Senor Perkins," began Hurlstone
frankly; "but I believe it will not be for long."
"My opinion," said the Senor, with a glance of gentle contemplation at
the distant Comandante, "as far as I may express it, coincides with your
own."
"I have come," continued Hurlstone earnestly, "to offer you my services.
I am ready," he raised his voice, with a view of being overheard, "to
bear testimony that you had no complicity in the baser part of the late
conspiracy,--the revolt of the savages, and that you did your best to
counteract the evil, although in doing so you have sacrificed yourself.
I shall claim the right to speak from my own knowledge of the Indians
and from their admission to me that they were led away by the vague
representations of Martinez, Brace, and Winslow."
"Pardon--pardon me," said Senor Perkins deprecatingly, "you are
mistaken. My general instructions, no doubt, justified these young
gentlemen in taking, I shall not say extreme, but injudicious measures."
He glanced meaningly in the direction of the Commander, as if to
warn Hurlstone from continuing, and said gently, "But let us talk
of something else. I thank you for your gracious intentions, but
you remember that we agreed only yesterday that you knew nothing of
politics, and did not concern yourself with them. I do not know but you
are wise. Politics and the science of self-government, although dealing
with general principles, are apt to be defined by the individual
limitations of the enthusiast. What is good for HIMSELF he too
often deems is applicable to the general public, instead of wisely
understanding that what is good for THEM must be good for himself. But,"
said the Senor lightly, "we are again transgressing. We were to choose
another topic. Let it be yourself, Mr. Hurlstone. You are looking
well, sir; indeed, I may say I never saw you looking so well! Let me
congratulate you. Health is the right of youth. May you keep both!"
He shook Hurlstone's hand again with singular fervor.
There was a slight bustle and commotion at the door of the guard-room,
and the Commander's attention was called in that direction. Hurlstone
profited by the opportunity to say in a hurried whisper:
"Tell me what I can do for you;" and he hesitated to voice his renewed
uneasiness--"tell me if--if--if your case is--urgent!"
Senor Perkins lifted his shoulders and smiled with grateful benevolence.
"You have already promised me to deliver those papers and manuscripts
of my deceased friend, and to endeavor to find her relations. I do not
think it is urgent, however."
"I do not mean that," said Hurlstone eagerly. "I"--but Perkins stopped
him with a sign that the Commander was returning.
Don Miguel approached them with disturbed and anxious looks.
"I have yielded to the persuasions of two ladies, Dona Leonor and the
Senora Markham, to ask you to see them for a moment," he said to Senor
Perkins. "Shall it be so? I have told them the hour is nearly spent."
"You have told them--NOTHING MORE?" asked the Senor, in a whisper
unheard by Hurlstone.
"No."
"Let them come, then."
The Commander made a gesture to the sentries at the guard-room, who drew
back to allow Mrs. Markham and Eleanor to pass. A little child, one of
Eleanor's old Presidio pupils, who, recognizing her, had followed her
into the guard-room, now emerged with her, and momentarily disconcerted
at the presence of the Commander, ran, with the unerring instinct of
childhood, to the Senor for protection. The filibuster smiled, and
lifting the child with a paternal gesture to his shoulder by one hand,
he extended the other to the ladies.
"The Commander," said Mrs. Markham briskly, "says it's against the
rules; that visiting time is up; and you've already got a friend with
you, and all that sort of thing; but I told him that I was bound to see
you, if only to say that if there's any meanness going on, Susannah and
James Markham ain't in it! No! But we're going to see you put right and
square in the matter; and if we can't do it here, we'll do it, if we
have to follow you to Mexico!--that's all!"
"And I," said Eleanor, grasping the Senor's hand, and half blushing as
she glanced at Hurlstone, "see that I have already a friend here who
will help me to put in action all the sympathy I feel."
Senor Perkins drew himself up, and cast a faint look of pride towards
the Commander.
"To HEAR such assurances from beautiful and eloquent lips like those
before me," he said, with his old oratorical wave of the hand, but a
passing shadow across his mild eyes, "is more than sufficient. In my
experience of life I have been favored, at various emergencies, by the
sympathy and outspoken counsel of your noble sex; the last time by Mrs.
Euphemia M'Corkle, of Peoria, Illinois, a lady of whom you have heard me
speak--alas! now lately deceased. A few lines at present lying on yonder
table--a tribute to her genius--will be forwarded to you, dear Mrs.
Markham. But let us change the theme. You are looking well--and you,
too, Miss Keene. From the roses that bloom on your cheeks--nourished
by the humid air of Todos Santos--I am gratified in thinking you have
forgiven me your enforced detention here."
At a gesture from the Commander he ceased, stepped back, bowed gravely,
and the ladies recognized that their brief audience had terminated. As
they passed through the gateway, looking back they saw Perkins still
standing with the child on his shoulder and smiling affably upon them.
Then the two massive doors of the gateway swung to with a crash, the
bolts were shot, and the courtyard was impenetrable.
* * * * *
A few moments later, the three friends had passed the outermost angle of
the fortifications, and were descending towards the beach. By the time
they had reached the sands they had fallen into a vague silence.
A noise like the cracking and fall of some slight scaffolding behind
them arrested their attention. Hurlstone turned quickly. A light smoke,
drifting from the courtyard, was mingling with the fog. A faint cry of
"Dios y Libertad!" rose with it.
With a hurried excuse to his companions, Hurlstone ran rapidly back, and
reached the gate as it slowly rolled upon its hinges to a file of men
that issued from the courtyard. The first object that met his eyes
was the hat of Senor Perkins lying on the ground near the wall, with a
terrible suggestion in its helpless and pathetic vacuity. A few paces
further lay its late owner, with twenty Mexican bullets in his breast,
his benevolent forehead bared meekly to the sky, as if even then mutely
appealing to the higher judgment. He was dead! The soul of the Liberator
of Quinquinambo, and of various other peoples more or less distressed
and more or less ungrateful, was itself liberated!
* * * * *
With the death of Senor Perkins ended the Crusade of the Excelsior.
Under charge of Captain Bunker the vessel was sent to Mazatlan by the
authorities, bearing the banished and proscribed Americans, Banks,
Brace, Winslow, and Crosby; and, by permission of the Council, also
their friends, Markham and Brimmer, and the ladies, Mrs. Brimmer, Chubb,
and Markham. Hurlstone and Miss Keene alone were invited to remain, but,
on later representations, the Council graciously included Richard Keene
in the invitation, with the concession of the right to work the mines
and control the ranches he and Hurlstone had purchased from their
proscribed countrymen. The complacency of the Council of Todos Santos
may be accounted for when it is understood that on the day the firm
of Hurlstone & Keene was really begun under the title of Mr. and Mrs.
Hurlstone, Richard had prevailed upon the Alcalde to allow him to add
the piquant Dona Isabel also to the firm under the title of Mrs. Keene.
Although the port of Todos Santos was henceforth open to all commerce,
the firm of Hurlstone & Keene long retained the monopoly of trade, and
was a recognized power of intelligent civilization and honest progress
on the Pacific coast. And none contributed more to that result than the
clever and beautiful hostess of Excelsior Lodge, the charming country
home of James Hurlstone, Esq., senior partner of the firm. Under the
truly catholic shelter of its veranda Padre Esteban and the heretic
stranger mingled harmoniously, and the dissensions of local and central
Government were forgotten.
"I said that you were a dama de grandeza, you remember," said the
youthful Mrs. Keene to Mrs. Hurlstone, "and, you see, you are!"
End of Project Gutenberg's The Crusade of the Excelsior, by Bret Harte