When Raquel had given Agueda the note and the kiss, and had seen her
ride rapidly away, she closed the shutter. She made the room as dark as
possible. She could not bear to have the sun shine on a girl who had
written to a man to come to her succour. It could mean nothing less than
marriage, and it was as if she had offered it. But what else remained
for her but to appeal to Don Gil? If the few words that he had spoken
meant anything, they meant love. If the beating of her heart, when she
caught ever so distant a glimpse of him, meant anything, it meant love.
She had received a note from him only a week back. She would read it
again. Her uncle had searched her room only yesterday for letters, and
she was thankful that she had had the forethought to conceal Silencio's
missive where he would not discover it. He had ordered old Ana to search
the girl's dresses, and Ana, with moist eyes and tender words, had
carried out Escobeda's instructions. She had found nothing, and so had
told the Señor Escobeda.
"And when does the child get a chance to receive notes from the
Señores?" asked Ana, indignant that her charge should be suspected. It
was the reflection upon herself, also, that galled her. "I guarded her
mother; I can guard her, Señor," said the old woman, with dignity.
"Do you not know that the young of our nation are fire and tow?" snarled
Escobeda. "I shall put it out of her power to deceive me longer."
With that he had flung out of the casa and ridden away. It was then that
Raquel had beckoned to Agueda, where she loitered under the shelter of
the coffee bushes. After Agueda had gone, Raquel seated herself upon a
little stool which had been hers from childhood. She raised one foot to
her knee, took the heel in her hand, and drew off the slipper. Some
small pegs had pressed through and had made little indentations in the
tender foot. But between the pegs and the stocking was a thick piece of
paper, whose folds protected the skin. She had just removed it when the
door opened, and Ana entered. Raquel started and seemed confused for a
moment.
"You frightened me, Ana," said Raquel. "I thought that you had gone to
the fair. So I told--"
"You told? And whom did you have to tell, Señorita?"
"I told my uncle. He was here but now. Oh! dear Ana, I am so tired of
this hot house. I long for the woods. When do you think that he will
let me go to the forest again?"
Ana drew the girl toward her. Her lips trembled.
"I am as sorry as you can be, muchachita; but what can I do? What is
that paper that you hold in your hand, Raquel?"
Raquel blushed crimson. Fortunately Ana's eyes were fixed upon the
paper.
"I had it folded in my shoe," said Raquel. She threw the paper in the
scrap basket as she spoke. "See, Ana." She held up the slipper. "Look at
those pegs! They have pushed through, and my heel is really lame. I can
hardly walk." Raquel limped round the room to show Ana what suffering
was hers, keeping her back always to the scrap-basket. "If he would
allow me to go to the town and buy some shoes!" said Raquel--Ana's
espionage having created the deceit whose prophylactic she would be.
"You had better put on your slipper," said the prudent Ana. "You will
wear out your stockings else."
"But how can I put on my slipper with those pegs in the heel?" asked
Raquel.
"You had the paper."
"It was punched full of holes."
"Let me see it," said Ana.
"I threw it away," said Raquel. "Get me another piece of paper, for the
love of God, dear Ana. My uncle does not allow me even a journal. I am
indeed in prison."
Ana arose.
"I will take the scrap-basket with me," she said.
"Not until you have brought the paper, Ana. I shall tear up some other
pieces."
When Ana had closed the door Raquel pounced upon the waste-basket. She
took the folded paper from the top of the few scraps lying there. This
she opened, pulling it apart with difficulty, for the pegs had punched
the layers together, as if they had been sewn with a needle. She spread
the paper upon her knee, but first ran to the door and called, "Ana,
bring a piece of the cotton wool, also, I beg of you."
"That will keep her longer," said Raquel, smiling. She spoke aloud as
lonely creatures often do. "She must hunt for that, I know." She heard
Ana pulling out bureau drawers, and sat down again to read her letter.
"Dearest Señorita," it ran. "I hear that you are unhappy. What can
I do? I hear that you are going away. Do not go, for the love of
God, without letting me know.