Suddenly Agueda was conscious of something creeping against her foot. It
was cold! Good God! It was wet! The sole of her shoe was soaked; the
river had reached even there. She heard the licking of those hungry lips
which were ready to drink in the helpless souls stranded at their mercy.
This was indeed a sudden rising! Then there was no hope. She wondered
how long it would be before Beltran would learn the fact, and what he
would do when the truth came to him. She drew herself up by the iron
staple and curled her body half way round the chimney. Her ear touched
the ruffles of Felisa's gown. She heard a tender voice speaking much as
it had to her a year ago.
"Come closer," it said. "Do not fear. I am here."
"Beltran!" she called. "Beltran!"
"Who calls me?" came his voice from out the blackness. "You, Agueda?"
"Yes, it is I, Agueda. The river is rising very high. It has come up
quickly. I felt it against my foot. Can you not try to catch some tree
or branch?"
"Oh, God! Oh, God! Save me!" It was Felisa's voice. "Why did I ever come
to this accursed island? Why, oh, why? How dared you tell me that I was
safe! Safe with you? Oh, my God! Safe with you! Are you greater than
God? If He cannot save me, can you?"
As Felisa shrieked these words, which were almost drowned by the sound
of the swiftly rushing waters, she raised her small fist and struck at
Beltran. The jewels on her fingers cut his lip.
His musical voice, patient and still tender, answered as if to a naughty
child.
"Careful! you will throw yourself off! Agueda, why must you come here
frightening my cousin? When the moon rises she will see the falseness of
your story."
As if to convict him out of his own mouth, the moon suddenly shone
through a rift in the black clouds which edged the horizon. It
discovered to Agueda Felisa clasped to a resting-place that was her own
by right. It showed her Beltran holding the little form in his arms, as
once he had held her own. It showed her Beltran covering the blonde head
with passionate kisses, as once he had covered her darker one.
Agueda clutched the chimney for support. Death was no worse than this.
Felisa opened her trembling lids and gazed abroad on the expanse of
waters. Wail after wail issued from her white lips and mingled with the
wind that blew wantonly the tendrils of her hair. She struck Beltran in
the face again, she pushed him from her with the fury of a maniac.
Great trees and branches were pounding against the roof. The peons had
climbed to the highest point, and now, as a trunk came tearing down
toward them, with a pitying glance at those they left behind, and a
chuckle at their own presence of mind, they caught at it, and were
whirled away to death or to succour.
Don Noé, ever on the watch, with face thin and fierce, with nostrils
extended and eyes wild and staring, peered round the chimney where he
hung in prayerful terror. His resolution was made in one of those sudden
moments of decision that come to the weakest. Watching his chance, he
sprang and clutched at the giant as it came bobbing and wobbling by, and
in company with Palandrez and Eduardo Juan, he floated away from his
late companions.
Agueda, left alone upon her side of the roof, crouched, looking ever
toward the south, searching for a cask, a boat, a tree, a plank, a piece
of household furniture, anything by which she might hold and save her
life and Beltran's. Not Felisa's; that she could not do, even though
Beltran loved her.
Until now Agueda had thought that she longed for death; but the instinct
of self-preservation is strong, and she could hardly comprehend her
newly awakened desire to seize upon some sort of floating thing which
might mean safety for herself. She stood gazing over the broad expanse
of water. It had become a sea. The face of nature was changed. The
position of the river bank was discernible only from the waving line of
branches which testified where their trunks stood. There were one or two
oases whose tops showed still above the surface of the stretching,
reaching flood. Agueda thought that she could discern some one in a
treetop near the hill rancho. She wondered if it could be Uncle Adan.
She thought that she heard a shout. She tried to answer, but the weak
sound of her voice was forced back into her throat. It would not carry
against the force of the wind. No other land nearer than the heights of
Palmacristi was to be seen. The horses and cattle must have perished. It
had indeed become, as Uncle Adan had warned her, a greater flood than
the country had ever known. To add to the unspeakable gloom of the
scene, the clouds parted wider and allowed the moon to sparkle more
fully upon the boiling water below and the trees and branches as they
rolled and hastened onward.
As Agueda stood and gazed up the stream, suddenly, from out the
perspective of the moon-flecked tide, a little craft came sailing
down--a tiny thing that seemed to have been set upon the waste of waters
by some pitying hand. She watched it with eager eyes, as it floated
onward. Her body swayed unconsciously with each change in its course or
pointing of its bow to right, to left, as if she feared that it would
escape her anxious hand. Fate drifted it exactly across the thatch at
the south end of the roof. On it came, and was driven to her very feet.
Here was succour! Here was help! She could save herself, unwatched,
unknown, of those others behind the shelter there, and float away to the
chance of rescue. Agueda stepped ankle-deep in the water, and stooping,
held in frenzied clutch this gift of the gods.
"The little duck boat of Felipe," she exclaimed, as she drew it toward
her. "The little duck boat of Felipe!"
Beltran had arisen as he heard the boat grate against the roof. He
stepped cautiously out from behind the chimney, Felisa leaning upon him.
Agueda raised her eyes to them. She shook as if with a chill. She was
drawing the boat nearer, and battling with the flood to keep her
treasure in hand.
"Agueda," called Beltran. "Take her with you. Her weight is slight."
Felisa raised her head from his shoulder, and cast a terrified look
about her. Beltran looked at Agueda, and then down at Felisa.
"She will save you," he said.
"I will not go without you, Beltran," sobbed Felisa. "I dare not go
without you. Oh! come with me! That girl of yours, that Agueda, I dare
not go with her! She hates me! She will kill me!"
When Beltran had said, "She will save you," Agueda had begun to draw the
skiff nearer to him. She moved with great care, that the flood might not
wrench from her this treasure trove.
"It is true that I hate you," said Agueda, in a hard, cold voice, as she
brought the boat to Felisa's feet, "but I will not kill you." She pushed
the tiny craft nearer to Felisa. "Take your place," said she. "I will
hold it steady."
"I will not go without you," again shrieked Felisa, turning to Beltran.
"I dare not go without you. Oh, Agueda! dear Agueda! You do not care to
live. What have you to live for? While I--"
"True," said Agueda. "Will the Señorita take her place?"
Felisa still held to Beltran's hand.
"I will not go alone," she said. "Come with me, dear love! Come with
me; I cannot live without you."
"There is not room for all," said Beltran, glancing, as he spoke, at
Agueda. "At least, Felisa, we can die together."
Ever changeable, and suddenly angered at this, Felisa again struck at
Beltran, and tried with her small strength to thrust him aside, so that
his footing was imperilled. Agueda turned pale as she saw his danger.
Beltran laughed nervously, and seized with firmer grasp the staple
buried in the mortar.
"And do you think that will compensate me?" screamed Felisa. "Do you
think that I shall welcome death because I may die in your company? I
tell you, I will not die. I love all the pleasant things of life--I love
myself, my pretty self. I am meant for life and love and warmth, not
cold and death. There is not a human being who could reconcile me to
death. Oh, my God! and such a death!"
Felisa screamed hysterically. She sobbed and choked, and amid her
shrieks were heard the disjointed words, "I--will--_not_--die!"
In her frenzy the fastening at her throat gave way, and Agueda caught
sight of the diamond pendant at her neck. Agueda, with her eyes on
Beltran, nodded her head toward the boat, as if to say, "Do as she
asks." When she spoke, she said:
"I will hold it steady, as steady as I can."
Felisa cast another horrified look around her upon the moonlit,
shoreless sea.
"Oh, God!" she sobbed, as holding frantically to Beltran's hand, she
stepped into the boat. She drew him toward her, so that he could with
difficulty resist the impelling of her hand. Beltran tried to release
his fingers from the grasp of Felisa. He turned to Agueda, and motioned
toward the one hope of succour.
She shook her head.
"I cannot hold it long," she said.
"Beltran! Beltran!" sobbed Felisa.
The boat pulled and jerked like a race horse. Even Felisa's slight
weight made a marked difference in its buoyancy.
Agueda's position was made the more unstable by her skirt, which
fluttered in the wind.
"I can hold it but a second more," she said. She was still stooping,
holding the boat in as firm a grasp as her footing would allow.
Beltran stood irresolute, wavering.
"I cannot leave you here, Agueda, to die perhaps--for--her--for me."
"I died long weeks ago," she muttered, more to herself than to him, and
motioned again with her head toward the boat.
The water was rushing past them. It was ankle-deep now. Agueda steadied
herself more firmly against the chimney.
Felisa, shivering with fright, stretched out her arms appealingly to
Beltran, her cheeks streaming with tears. Beltran glanced at Agueda,
with a look that was half beseeching, half apologetic, as if to
forestall the contempt which he knew that she must feel for him,
and--stepped into the boat. His weight tore it from Agueda's grasp. It
began to float away, but before it had passed a span from where Agueda
stood alone, he turned and shouted, "Come! Agueda, come! Throw yourself
in, I can save you!"
Ah! that was all that she cared to hear. It was the old voice. It sank
into her heart and gave her peace. For in that flash of sudden and
overwhelming remorse which is stronger than death, Beltran had seen that
which he had not noticed before, the sad change in her girlish figure.
Felisa clung to him, threatening to upset the skiff. He thrust her from
him. "Come!" again he shouted, "Come!" He stretched out his arms to
Agueda, but as the words left his lips he was whirled from her presence.
In that supreme moment Beltran caught the motion of her lips. "My
love!" they seemed to say, and still holding to the staple with one
hand, she raised the other toward him, in good-by perhaps--perhaps in
blessing.
Agueda kept her gaze fixed upon the little speck, shrinking
involuntarily when she saw some great trunk endanger its buoyancy.
The boat was drifting swiftly along in the waters now, and in that mad
rush to the sea Beltran strained his eyes ever backward to catch the
faint motion of that fluttering garment in its wave of farewell.
PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY
AND SONS COMPANY AT THE
LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL.