DON BERNARDINO
The stranger held himself with, if possible, greater hauteur as he
answered:
"I have that great honour."
"And I, sir," said Marjory, with a pride rivalling his own, "am an
American!" Issue was joined.
For a period which from its strain seemed very long, though it was
probably but a few seconds, they stood facing each other; types of the
two races whose deadly contest was then the interest of the world. The
time was at any rate sufficiently long for me to consider the situation,
and to admire the types. It would have been hard to get a better
representative of either, of the Latin as well as of the Anglo-Saxon.
Don Bernardino, with his high aquiline nose and black eyes of eagle
keenness, his proud bearing and the very swarthiness which told of
Moorish descent, was, despite his modern clothes, just such a picture as
Velasquez would have loved to paint, or as Fortuny might have made to
live again.
And Marjory! She looked like the spirit of her free race, incarnate.
The boldness of her pose; her free bearing; her manifest courage and
self belief; the absence of either prudery or self-consciousness; her
picturesque, noble beauty, as with set white face and flashing eyes she
faced the enemy of her country, made a vision never to be forgotten.
Even her racial enemy had unconsciously to fall into admiration; and
through it the dominance of his masculine nature spoke. His words were
gracious, and the easy gracefulness of their delivery was no less marked
because the calm was forced:
"Our nations alas! Senora are at war; but surely not even the courtesies
of the battlefield need be strained when individuals, even of the most
loyal each to their own, meet on neutral soil!" It was evident that even
Marjory's quick wit did not grasp at a suitable reply. The forgiveness
of enemies is not the strong point of any woman's nature, or of her
education. The only remark she made was to again repeat:
"I am an American!" The Spaniard felt the strength of his position;
again his masculinity came out in his reply:
"And all good women, as well as all men, should be loyal to their Flag.
But oh Senora, before even your nationality comes your sex. The Spanish
nation does not make war on women!" He seemed really to believe what he
said; for the proud light in his face could not have been to either a
dastard or a liar. I confess it was with a shock that I heard Marjory's
words:
"In the _reconcentrados_ were as many women as men. More, for the men
were fighting elsewhere!" The passionate, disdainful sneer on her lips
gave emphasis to the insult; and blood followed the stab. A red tide
rushed to the Spaniard's swarthy face, over forehead and ears and neck;
till, in a moment of quick passion of hate, he seemed as if bathed in
red light.
And then in truth I saw the very man of my vision at Whinnyfold.
Marjory, womanlike, feeling her superiority over the man's anger, went
on mercilessly:
"Women and children herded together like beasts; beaten, starved,
tortured, mocked at, shamed, murdered! Oh! it is a proud thought for a
Spaniard, that when the men cannot be conquered, even in half a century
of furious oppression, their baffled foes can wreak their vengeance on
the helpless women and children!"
The Spaniard's red became white; a deathly pallor which looked grey
in the darkened room. With his coldness came the force of coldness,
self-command. I had a feeling that in those few moments of change had
come to him some grim purpose of revenge. It was borne in upon me by
flashes of memory and instinct that the man was of the race and class
from which came the rulers and oppressors of the land, the leaders of
the Inquisition. Eyes like his own, burning in faces of deathly white,
looked on deeds of torture, whose very memory after centuries can appal
the world. But with all his passion of hate and shame he never lost the
instinct of his dignity, or his grace of manner. One could not but feel
that even when he struck to kill he would strike with easeful grace.
Something of the feeling was in his speech, perhaps in the manner rather
than the words, when after a pause he said:
"For such foul acts I have nought but indignation and grief; though in
the history of a nation such things must be. It is the soldier's duty to
obey; even though his heart revolt. I have memory of hearing that even
your own great nation has exercised not so much care as might be"--how
he sneered with polished sarcasm as he turned the phrase--"in the
dealing with Indians. Nay more, even in your great war, when to kill was
fratricidal, there were hardships to the conquered, even to the helpless
women and children. Have I not heard that one of your most honoured
generals, being asked what was to become of the women in a great march
of devastation that he was about to make, replied, "The women? I would
leave them nothing but their eyes to weep with!" But, indeed, I grieve
that in this our mutual war the Senora grieves. Is it that she has
suffered in herself, or through others dear to her?" Marjory's eyes
flashed; pulling herself to full height she said proudly:
"Sir, I am not one who whines for pain of my own. I and mine know how to
bear our own troubles, as our ancestors did before us. We do not bend
before Spain; no more to-day than when my great ancestors swept the
Spaniard from the Western Main, till the seas were lit with blazing
masts and the shores were fringed with wreckage! We Americans are not
the stuff of which you make _reconcentrados_. We can die! As for me, the
three hundred years that have passed without war, are as a dream; I look
on Spain and the Spaniard with the eyes, and feel with the heart, of my
great uncle Francis Drake."
Whilst she was speaking Don Bernardino was cooling down. He was
still deadly pale, and his eyes had something of the hollow glare of
phosphorus in the sockets of a skull. But he was master of himself; and
it seemed to me that he was straining every nerve to recover, for some
purpose of his own, his lost ground. It may have been that he was
ashamed of his burst of passion, with and before a woman; but anyhow he
was manifestly set on maintaining calm, or the appearance of it. With
the fullness of his grace and courtesy he said, turning to Mrs. Jack:
"I thank you for the permission, so graciously granted to me, to visit
again this my house. You will permit me, however, I hope without any
intention of offence, to withdraw from where my presence has brought so
much of disturbance; the which I deplore, and for which I crave pardon."
To me he bowed stiffly with a sort of lofty condescension; and finally,
looking towards Marjory, he said:
"The Senora will I trust believe that even a Spaniard may have pity
to give pain; and that there are duties which gentlemen must observe
because they are gentlemen, and because they reverence the trust that is
reposed in them more than do common men. She can appreciate the call of
duty I know; for she can be none other than the new patriot who restores
in the west our glorious memories of the Maid of Saragossa. I pray that
the time may come when she shall understand these things and believe!"
Then, with a bow which seemed the embodiment of old-fashioned grace and
courtesy, he bent almost to the ground. Marjory instinctively bowed. Her
training as to good manners, here stood her in good stead; not even
patriotic enthusiasm can at times break the icy barrier of social
decorum.
When the Spaniard left the room, which he did with long strides but
bearing himself with inconceivable haughtiness, Mrs. Jack, with a glance
at us, went with him. Instinctively I started to take her place; in the
first instance to relieve her from an awkward duty, and beyond this with
a feeling that I was not quite satisfied with him. No one could be in
antagonism with Marjory, and acquire or retain my good will. As I moved,
Marjory held up her hand and whispered to me to stay. I did so, and
waited for her to explain. She listened intently to the retreating
footsteps; when we heard the echoing sound of the closing the heavy
outer door, she breathed freely and said to me with relief in her voice:
"I know you two would have fought if you had got alone together just
now!"
I smiled, for I was just beginning to understand that that was just how
I felt. Marjory remained standing at the table, and I could see that she
was buried in thought. Presently she said:
"I felt it was cruel to say such things to that gentleman. Oh! but he
is a gentleman; the old idea seems embodied in him. Such pride, such
haughtiness; such disdain of the commoner kind; such adherence to ideas;
such devotion to honour! Indeed, I felt it very cruel and ungenerous;
but I had nothing else to do. I had to make him angry; and I knew he
couldn't quarrel with me. Nothing else would have taken us all away from
the cipher." Her words gave me quite a shock. "Do you mean to say
Marjory," I asked, "that you were acting a part all the time?"
"I don't know" she answered pensively, "I meant every word I said, even
when it hurt him most. I suppose that was the American in me. And yet
all the time I had a purpose or a motive of my own which prompted me. I
suppose that was the woman in me."
"And what was the motive or purpose?" I asked again, for I wondered.
"I don't know!" she said naively. I felt that she was concealing
something from me; but that it was a something so tender or so deep in
her heart that its very concealment was a shy compliment. So I smiled
happily as I said:
"And that is the girl in you. The girl that is American, and European,
and Asiatic, and African, and Polynesian. The girl straight out of the
Garden of Eden, with the fragrance of God's own breath in her mouth!"
"Darling!" she said, looking at me lovingly. That was all.
During the day, we discussed the visitor of the morning. Mrs. Jack said
very little, but now and again implored Marjory to be cautious; when she
was asked her reason for the warning her only reply was:
"I don't like a man who can look like that. I don't know which is worst,
when he is hot or cold!" I gathered that Marjory in the main agreed
with her; but did not feel the same concern. Marjory would have been
concerned if the danger had been to anyone else; but she was not
habituated to be anxious about herself. Besides, she was young; and the
antagonist was a man; and haughty and handsome, and interesting.
In the afternoon we completed our arrangements for the visit to the
treasure cave. We both felt the necessity for pressing on this matter,
since the existence of the secret writing was known to Don Bernardino.
He had not hesitated to speak openly, though he did not know of course
the extent of our own knowledge of the subject, of a grave duty which he
had undertaken from hereditary motives, or of the tragic consequences
which might ensue. It was whilst we were speaking of the possibility of
his being able to decipher the cryptogram, that Marjory suddenly said:
"Did you understand exactly why I asked you to give him the paper at
once?"
"Far be it from me" I answered "to profess to understand _exactly_ the
motives of any charming woman."
"Not even when she tells you herself?"
"Ah! then the real mystery only begins!" I said bowing. She smiled as
she replied:
"You and I are both fond of mysteries. So I had better tell you at once.
That man doesn't know the secret. I am sure of it. He knows there is a
secret; and he knows a part, but only a part. That eager look wouldn't
have been in his eye if he had known already. I daresay there is,
somewhere, some duplicate of what the original Don Bernardino put down
in his story. And of course there must be some allusion to the treasure
in the secret records at Simancas or the Quirinal or the Vatican.
Neither the kings of Spain nor the Popes would let such a treasure pass
out of mind. Indeed it is possible that there is some key or clue to it
which he holds. Did you notice how he referred at once to the secret
meaning of the memorandum in the beginning of the law book? If we had
not given it up at once, he would have forced on the question and wished
to take the paper away; and we could not have refused without letting
him know something by our very refusal. Do you understand any more of
my meaning now? And can you forgive me any more for my ill-mannered
outbreak? That is what I am most sorry for, of all that has been in the
interview to-day. Is that also any more light to you on the mystery of a
woman's mind?"
"It is, you dear! it is!" I said as I took her for a moment in my arms.
She came easily and lovingly to me, and I could not but be assured that
the yielding even momentarily to tenderness helped to ease the strain
which had been bearing upon her for so long. For my Marjory, though a
strong and brave one, was but a woman after all.
At six o'clock I took my way back to Whinnyfold; for I wanted to have
all ready for our enterprise, and take full advantage of the ebb tide.
We arranged that on this occasion Marjory should come alone to join me
at the house--our house.