COLONEL WARLOW'S STORY--CONTINUED.
The morning of that Sabbath broke calm and serene. A warm haze brooded
over the valley or danced in lines of quivering heat across the green
prairies of the upland, and the dew had long since ceased to glitter on
the rank blue-stem grass when our friends awoke.
The breakfast which followed almost caused them to forget the fact that
they were out upon the borders of the "Great American Desert," and they
might have fancied that they were once more but picnicking under the
shade of their native groves; for it was a meal that had exhausted the
culinary art of both matrons. Wild mushrooms, stewed in sweet cream,
deliciously fragrant and hinting of the wild-wood near by, delicate
brook-trout from the stream, mingled their aroma with the elder-bloom
fritters which Maud was preparing; and on the snowy damask, spread on
the grass, Mrs. Moreland's golden honey-comb vied with the Warlow jelly
and crimson marmalade, while the coffee would make one dream of Araby
the blest.
An hour after the morning meal we find our friends seated under the
shade of the great elm among the ruins, the sunlight struggling faintly
through the verdant canopy and weaving a golden veil over the ashen
buffalo-grass, starred by daisies and violets. The spring welled out
with a sleepy murmur, and overhead an oriole, near its swinging nest,
caroled forth a stream of bubbling melody.
"A month passed," continued the colonel, "and we still lingered in the
stately mansion, daily and hourly meeting the young heiress, who was
always accompanied by her matronly kinswoman. But one morning, as Bruce
was loitering in the court, he glanced up and saw the smiling face of
Ivarene, framed by the passion-flowers, fuchsias, and jasmine which
festooned the walls within the court and wreathed the lattice above her
balcony.
"With an impulse which he could not resist our young hero swung himself
up by the vines, and stood, with his sunny hair and smiling blue eyes,
within the balcony. He wore the uniform of a captain of cavalry--soft
gray, with cords and lace of frosted gilt over the breast--top-boots,
embossed with gold, and a hat half concealed by the drooping plumes.
"She threw back the gilded jalousies which guarded her window, and,
smiling graciously, held out her hand, which he clasped with all the
rapture of an infatuated lover.
"She was robed in soft, rose-colored India muslin, embroidered in white
lilies, and over her breast and arms fell a cascade of lace, caught
lightly over her raven tresses, in that graceful manner which the ladies
of Spanish America wear the mantilla; gleaming through its filmy folds
could be seen the rubies which burned in her hair.
"Within that flower-entwined balcony was re-enacted that tender
scene--old as the dawn of creation, still ever new. How he told the
tale, or how she answered, I can not say, but may readily surmise from
the brilliant wedding which followed in the old cathedral a few months
later.
"Bruce had become very popular with the young officers of our army, and
I have often seen him riding about the city with McClellan, and--"
"What! not our 'Little Mac?'" cried Squire Moreland, springing to his
feet, transformed into an impetuous soldier by the magic of a name, and
while the others regarded him with amazement, as he paced back and forth
with clenched hands, he continued in a tone of repressed vehemence: "If
there is one name that would cause me to leap from the grave, it is that
of 'Little Mac,' the Giant of Antietam; and, as there is a God above, I
believe it was McClellan who led us to victory at Gettysburg. Oh, can I
ever forget that terrible day when the host of Lee beat and broke in
thunder over the hills like the ocean on a rocky shore, drenching our
ranks in a surf of blood--when reckless Longstreet charged like a
whirlwind through smoke and flame, while our columns staggered under the
shock? The scream of countless shells and the stunning belch and roar of
a thousand cannon mingled with the trample of the Southern cavalry as it
hurled its squadrons upon us like the throes of an earthquake, their
storm of rebel yells rising above the notes of Dixie and all the din of
conflict with the roar of a hurricane. Oh, Heaven! how then we longed
for one hour of 'Little Mac!' That day our Nation's fate trembled in
the balance; a few more shocks and all would be lost; then this fierce
army--another such the world has never seen--would sweep over the North
like an avalanche! Every moment hurried myriads into eternity, wringing
loving hearts and breaking many a home from Maine to Texas. But when the
word, like an electric shock, flashed along our hopeless ranks, '_Little
Mac has come_,' can I ever, ever, forget the shout of delight that burst
from the parched lips of threescore thousand men? the rapid rush of
marching ranks as they hurried to death, shouting, 'Little Mac, Little
Mac!' when squadrons flashed by to the cannon's mouth, shaking the earth
with their thunders of that mighty name? Oh! the wild delight and glory
of that hour, when the fierce but baffled hosts of Lee broke and fled!
But at the battle's close they claimed that it was only a ruse, and that
McClellan was not there. Yet I shall always believe he did lead us that
day; but, unwilling to impair the laurels of Meade, he has kept silent
all these years--only such a man is capable of that grand heroism. I
have interrupted you, Colonel. Please excuse me, and proceed with your
narrative."
After a moment's silence, the colonel said:
"Bruce Walraven was descended from a noble English family that had
settled in New York in the earliest colonial days, but their fortunes
had waned until himself and his sword were all that remained of that
once powerful house. He was an orphan, who had graduated with honor at
West Point Military Academy, and was utterly alone in the world, with
no one to love but Ivarene and myself, yet no brothers could have been
more deeply attached than we soon became to each other.
"I have never yet described him to you, from the fact that--that--Well,
I feel a strange reluctance to say that Clifford, here, is the very
image of that friend who died four years before my boy was born; but as
I look at my son now, I almost fancy that Bruce is with me again, and
that all my manhood's troubled years are only a fitful dream.
"Since his boyhood I have noticed Clifford's resemblance to Bruce, and
as my boy grew older he seemed to almost take the place of my lost
friend, which has resulted, you perceive, in a sort of companionship
between us which leads strangers to take us for brothers, instead of
father and son. But to my story again.
"The wedding-day dawned fair and serene, and at noon a company of young
cadets from Chapultepec, all of whom were sons of the highest Mexican
aristocracy, filed out on the avenue of cypresses that led to Monteluma,
their snow-white horses trapped with gold and purple, and their steel
helmets a mass of tossing plumes; their high top-boots of glossy black
were embossed with gilt, and on the breasts of their white tunics the
Mexican eagle flashed in silver, as two and two they galloped out to the
great hacienda.
"An hour later Ivarene entered her low, open carriage, which was richly
gilded and drawn by four white horses that were almost hidden by
garlands of bright-hued flowers. She wore a robe of white satin, while
a tiara and necklace of pearls glimmered through the filmy veil that
trailed like a mist about her form. Behind her, there rode in separate
carriages, each drawn by two white horses, her seven bridesmaids, who
were likewise dressed in white. Senora Labella sat by the side of
Ivarene, and a grand dame also occupied each carriage with a bridesmaid;
their sumptuous toilets of satin, velvet, and brocade were of purple and
cream-rose, emerald and lilac.
"As this brilliant company filed out on the avenue, four cadets riding
in double file between each carriage, flowers were strewn in the road by
long lines of peon children dressed in white. At the city gates a double
guard of Mexican and American soldiers, riding white horses and gorgeous
with military trappings, escorted them through the city to the grand
plaza, where the old cathedral was thronged with the proud and great of
two nations, while the ministers and foreign ambassadors of nearly all
of Europe and the Americas, waited in pomp of state with their wives and
daughters, all attired in the extreme of luxury. I shall not try to
depict the splendor of the final scene when the cardinal in his robes of
scarlet pronounced the solemn service, and pale, handsome Bruce, wearing
his uniform of a colonel, received his bride from the hand of Don
Hernando Rozarro, the Spanish ambassador.
"Haughty Santa Anna was there, and General Taylor looked happily on,
while all around were grouped our gallant officers, graceful and young,
whose names now thunder down the galleries of fame linked with Antietam,
Shiloh, and blood-drenched Malvern Hill. Grant and Lee, those slumbering
lions, that in after years were to shake the continent with appalling
conflict, now stood side by side, each carrying the wedding favor of
their friend.
"A scene of splendor ensued that recalled the old pageants of the
Montezumas, when a long line of gilded coaches and prancing white horses
filed out in the twilight, along the avenue returning to Monteluma. The
sun had set, but a parting gleam was yet crimsoning the snow on the
volcano of Toluco, while the sombre cypresses were aglow with the green
and rosy light of torches, carried by the double line of peons in their
ancient Aztec garb. Old Monteluma glimmered like a jewel from terrace to
turret with colored lights, while out upon the broad esplanades, where
thousands of the peons were feasting, the fountains flashed white and
misty, like the snow-storms of my Northern home.
"When Ivarene, leaning on Bruce's arm, walked up the long flight of
steps to the doorway of her old home, the marble beneath her feet was
hidden by the rose-leaves strewn by peon girls in white, while her train
was borne by four small Indian pages in feather costumes, gorgeous as
humming-birds. Within, the halls were blazing with light, and garlanded
by tropic flowers. Tables were loaded with gold, silver, and crystal;
wine flowed like water; while the viol and harp, gay dance and song,
caused the hours to speed swiftly by, and the tired but happy revelers
only sought their homes when the snowy summit of Popocatapetl was
flushed with rose, and bars of pale gold flashed out from behind the dim
crest of Orizaba.
"After a brief honey-moon, which was spent at La Puebla, Bruce and his
bride returned to Monteluma, and so urgent was the invitation which they
extended for me to make my home with them until I should decide to
return northward, that I immediately joined them in their princely
abode.
"My friend soon discovered that his rosy path was beset thickly with
thorns, for every day he was made aware of the aversion in which his
Mexican neighbors held him; their cold neglect cut deeper than their
swords. So it was with growing alarm that his wife beheld these
symptoms, for she well knew how the fine speeches and grave courtesy of
her countrymen often covered hearts of hate and tiger-like rage; and
when she saw the covert hostility of her former friends she became
apprehensive, indeed, for the safety of her husband.
"One day she startled us by proposing that we should all go North to her
husband's former home on the Hudson, and she then proceeded to say that
she had grown to view her native land with something of the feelings
with which it was regarded abroad. She had resided in England several
years, and now longed again for the life and freedom of the
Anglo-Saxons.
"Although Bruce was overjoyed at the prospect, he still said he would
not insist on taking her from her native land and kindred; but when she
said that her only relative living now was Labella, who was soon to
marry Herr Von Brunn, a merchant of the capital, and that she had
determined to sell Monteluma to an Englishman for seventy thousand
doubloons, or over a million dollars, then he reluctantly consented to
the change, only stipulating that the immediate park, grounds, and
mansion should be reserved, so that if she grew tired of her Northern
home they would find her old mansion awaiting their return.
"Kissing him tenderly, she declared he was a Rozarro in spirit, if not
in name. It was decided to leave the villa in charge of Labella, and in
a short time a sale of the estate was consummated for the sum of fifty
thousand doubloons, or seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in
gold--the mansion and park being reserved.
"Senora Labella was dowered by Ivarene with a gift of several thousand
doubloons on her wedding Von Brunn, after which event we set to work
earnestly preparing for our overland journey northward. A long train of
wagons were loaded with dry-goods for the markets of Northern Mexico.
The price of such articles there had been enhanced enormously by the
war, and Von Brunn shrewdly advised us to pursue this course. When
Ivarene kindly offered to loan me money to invest in this manner, I
gladly accepted fifty thousand dollars, with which I bought linen and
cotton goods at the port of Vera Cruz, which was then crowded by the
ships of all nations.
"I might be pardoned for digressing a moment while speaking of the
strange belief in a future state which Bruce entertained. There was a
vein of seriousness and grave, quiet religion running through the nature
of my friend, and often, while we were stretched on our blanket with no
canopy but the dewless Mexican sky, studded by the Southern Cross, and
bespangled by constellations that were new and strange to our
eyes--often, I say, he would talk of that weird belief, which then was
very enigmatical to me, but which in my maturer life has recurred with a
sweet solace to my declining years.
"Bruce believed that the soul was an individual, invisible as air and
imperishable as time itself, and that the spirit was a progressive,
rational being, which could never leave this earth until the great
Judgment-day, at which time our planet would be as unfit for a human
abode as the moon is at present.
"After death, which, he said, was only a wearing out of the outer
garment of the soul or spirit, the animating principle, or life, would
still inhabit the earth, invisible to human eyes, but yet an
intelligent, observing being; subtile as air, yet powerful as
electricity. Whenever the newly released soul chose to do so, it could
take on a new form by being re-born. He thought that before birth we
were possessed of a life akin to that of the vegetable kingdom, but at
birth a spirit that had lived before took possession of our bodies, and
used us as a habitation until our bodies became either worn through age,
or distasteful to the occupant--death ensuing in either case.
"His highest idea of heaven, he said, would be to have the power to live
again, and again meet those friends whom he had loved best in the prior
life, guided to them unerringly by the mystic ties of love and affinity.
Memory of the past life, he thought, was that sense which we call
instinct, conscience, or intuition, being only a feeble glimmer, as it
were, of the previous state in which we had lived.
"I remember well, the night before the battle of Churubusco, how Bruce
and I talked of these things; for he said, as we sat beneath a
palm-tree, while the tropic moon flooded the earth with a dreamy
splendor, that we were to fight the last great battle of the war on the
morrow--a conflict in which one or both of us might perish--and all that
reconciled him to such a fate was the belief that we should live again,
and meet each other in this world, which was the only heaven we were yet
fitted for.
"I would not have you entertain the thought for one instant that Bruce
was skeptical or irreligious. On the contrary, his fearless piety was
often commented upon; for I have seen him kneel on the bloody fields of
Cerro Gordo and Contreras, and thank God in a trembling voice for his
gracious preservation of my life and his own, while the rude soldiery
stood by with mute respect, remembering his reckless daring and
lion-like bravery in the hours of deadliest peril to which human life
can be exposed.
"No; his creed was a very strange one, though one that is old as history
itself; he appeared to differ from the general belief only in his
definition of heaven and its location. He often said that if a man
retrograded and became brutal he would meet his punishment in the next
life, for his brutal instincts would seek their affinity after death and
he could only be re-born as a brute, in which state he would remain
until his new life exhausted the brutal element from his soul.
"I fancy he imbibed his doctrines from his father, who had been an
officer in India. It might have been that the elder Walraven had there
caught glimpses of a belief somewhat akin to Buddhism. When I pressed
Bruce for his proof of this strange theory he referred me to the
Bible--Matthew xvi; 13, 14: 'When Jesus came to Cesarea Philippi, he
asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I, the Son of man, am?
And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist; some, Elias; and
others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets.' All of which goes to prove
how ancient the belief really is; for it is apparent that people
believed Christ to be the reincarnation of a spirit of one of those
people who had been dead many years.
"Ivarene soon became converted to Bruce's creed, while I often find
myself, even yet, taking solace in this strange belief.
"Early in the spring of 1848, the long caravan started northward, and
when we arrived at Chihuahua, a ready market was found for the goods,
after disposing of which I found that I had more than doubled the sum
invested; so when the debt was repaid to my kind benefactors, with the
addition of a liberal interest for the use of the money, there was
still left me, as clear profit, fifty thousand dollars in gold.
"We spent the winter in Santa Fe, but early the next spring resumed our
journey, I having in the meantime bought a few wagon-loads of wool to
take through to Independence, Missouri, which was then the eastern
terminus of the Santa Fe Trail; but the money which I had saved from my
speculation remained intact, and was deposited with fifty sacks of
doubloons (which were the property of Bruce and Ivarene) in a large
iron-bound cask of cypress-wood, each sack plainly marked with the name
of its owner, and the whole tightly packed in wool within the cask.
"This vast treasure, more than half a million of dollars in gold coin,
only represented a portion of my friend's wealth; for there were chests
of costly silks, brocades, velvets, and priceless laces, all the
accumulation of centuries of luxury and boundless riches; paintings by
Murillo and Velasquez, that for ages had adorned the long gallery at
Monteluma; books of vellum, and richly bound volumes from its
marble-paved library, together with a dozen wagon-loads of carved ebony,
mahogany, and rosewood furniture from the same stately home.
"I shall never forget that glorious scene, the last evening in
Chihuahua, when the sinking sun lit up the low room where we three sat,
with an open casket before us and the stone table ablaze with glimmering
gems.
"There were scores of great, pure diamonds, flashing back a quivering
glare of rainbow hues; rubies glowing like fire with rose and crimson
light; white, frosty pearls, glinting beside the baleful emeralds, that
emitted fitful gleams of green and gold. Over all flickered the wavering
shimmer of opal and blood-stones, mingling with the violet, lilac, and
purple rays of sapphires and amethysts.
"A great many of these gems had been purchased by my friends through the
advice and assistance of Von Brunn; but the most precious of the lot
were heir-looms, of which Ivarene was justly proud, and for an hour she
recounted their histories:--
"The great blood-stone had once shone in the war-club of an Aztec
prince, who was slain in battle by the first Baron of Monteluma, one of
those adventurous spirits that came over and shared the glory of the
conquest with Cortez.
"The carcanet of pearls was a gift from Queen Isabella to the bride of
the same brave knight.
"A diamond cross that had been bestowed by Leo X. upon a cardinal of the
house of Rozarro.
"A ruby dragon that carried in its mouth the Order of the Golden Fleece.
This was a mark of the highest honor that a Spanish king could confer
upon his subject, a viceroy of Mexico, also a member of the same
illustrious family at Monteluma.
"There was a chain of rose-colored coral, to which was attached an
enormous pearl of the same delicate hue; this bauble had been bestowed
by the Doge of Genoa upon Don Arven Rozarro while the latter was
ambassador of Spain at that superb though decaying city, and it was
through this elegant gift that the then all-powerful Spanish sword was
induced to interpose its terrible edge as a shield against the
aggressions of France.
"A pair of golden spurs, won long ago in the first Crusade by the Knight
of Rozarro, and ropes of pearls that had adorned many a proud but long
forgotten mistress of the great castle.
"All these were placed within the steel casket, and the only jewel that
Ivarene reserved for her personal use on the journey was a locket with a
long gold chain. This was the most precious _souvenir_ in the whole
collection, so she averred, for it was set in gems with the name of her
mother, and contained the miniature portraits of Bruce and Ivarene.
"The precious casket was kept in the large carriage, where Ivarene, her
two maids, and Bruce rode on cushioned seats, that were constructed so
as to serve as couches when the inmates of the vehicle became fatigued.
Everything that wealth and loving care could secure was provided by
Bruce to lessen the tedium of the journey.
"The gold was placed in a large, strong wagon, drawn by twelve mules,
and in addition to the treasure-cask, several barrels of wine and other
liquors were placed in the wagon for the purpose of warding off
suspicion. This vehicle was my special charge, and I carefully guarded
it at night, but spent a portion of the day in sleep.
"We arrived in Santa Fe in the fall of 1848, and early the following
spring our long caravan started out on the monotonous course across the
plains, by the route to Independence, Missouri, the quiet routine of
our journey only relieved by meeting with great trains of freighters on
the broad trail, or when Ivarene would take her guitar and sit out in
the starry evening playing the sweet airs of her home-land, old Spanish
ballads full of pathos and melody. Thus we journeyed until we reached
this very spot on the 22d of August, 1849. The night was dark and
cloudy, while a strange silence brooded over all nature, broken only by
the dismal howl of the wolf as it prowled on the lonely hills.
"We had remarked during the day that no teams were met--a most unusual
occurrence on that great thoroughfare, the Santa Fe Trail--and we
vaguely wondered why the corral should be silent and deserted; for it
was a camping place that was renowned all along the trail for its safety
and convenience.
"The corral was an inclosure of about an acre, surrounded by lofty stone
walls that were pierced by loop-holes on every side; two large doors, or
gates, opened to the north and south, which, after the teams of
freighters had been drawn inside, were locked in times of danger. This
fort-like corral had been built by the government as a place of refuge
for travelers, but our long journey had been so free from trouble that
we had become careless, and, as the night was very sultry and the air
oppressive, we preferred camping outside the walls on the level land,
where we are now sitting, near the bank of the Cottonwood.
"Ivarene had been feeling unwell that day, and we were all very
solicitous for her comfort and welfare at that time; for it was known
that an interesting event would soon occur, that would give my dear
friend Bruce the title of father. In deference to her condition the
usual noise and hilarity of the camp were not indulged in; but a sense
of coming disaster, a foreboding of some great calamity, seemed to weigh
on the spirits of our party on that fatal evening.
"How strange it is that when the sky is serene and clear we may feel the
approaching storm! Who can explain that shock of repulsion we feel when
we meet a secret foe? The same Providence whispered, that murky night,
of the danger and disaster lurking near.
"But each one tried to shake off the feeling of apprehension; and as a
storm was rising in the north-west we attributed our depression to that
state of the atmosphere which precedes the thunderstorm.
"I did not sleep for several hours after retiring to the wagon, but
remained wakeful and restless, listening to the jabbering of the wolves
and rumble of the distant thunder. The fitful slumber into which I at
length fell was pervaded by hideous dreams, and when I was awakened by
the yell of savages it seemed, for a moment, only the continuation of
the strange phantasms that had haunted my sleep.
"But I sprang out, a pistol in each hand, and was soon struggling in the
whirlpool of confusion and terror that prevailed around. The crack of
rifles and whistling of arrows, the shrieks of the wounded and dying,
the blood-chilling whoops of the Indians, all commingled with the
bellowing of the frightened cattle in hideous clamor.
"With a feeling of sickening dread I thought of Bruce and his wife as I
dashed toward their wagon. As I neared it a vivid flash of lightning
from the cloud which had arisen revealed a scene of such revolting
horror that its remembrance causes me yet to turn faint and dizzy. More
than a quarter of a century has rolled by, fraught with war and sorrow,
but that scene of woe is burned deep within my heart, to rankle long as
life endures."
Here the colonel's voice broke to a whisper, while the sobs of Maud and
Grace mingled with their mother's soft weeping. Then, after a moment of
silent anguish, while his hands hung clenched in an agony of intense
grief, with bowed head and a voice so husky that it was barely audible,
the colonel continued:--
"By the dazzling light I saw Ivarene kneeling in her white robe, a look
of imploring agony upon her pale, uplifted face. Over her, with a poised
tomahawk, glared a powerful, painted demon. Bruce, struggling in the
grasp of two hideous savages, was driving his glittering dirk into the
breast of one of his assailants. I fired at the heart of the wretch who
stood over Ivarene. With a dying yell he bounded into the air. Then, as
darkness was once again settling down over the scene, I felt the shock
of a stunning blow--then a long oblivion."
The colonel was too visibly affected to proceed further with the
narrative, and as he relapsed into silence the listeners slowly
dispersed, some to the duties of camp-life; others strolled out to the
long, grass-grown grave, leaving Colonel Warlow alone, lost in
meditation.