"Elaria!" he exclaimed. "Do you dare tell me of love for Elaria! But
you are only a blind fool, and do not know that I am going to marry her
myself."
"Are you mad, Torcuato, to talk of marrying your sister?"
"She is no more my sister than you are my brother," he returned. "I,"
he continued, striking his breast passionately, "am the only child of
my father, Loreto Silva. Elaria, whose mother died in giving her birth,
was adopted by my parents. And because she is going to be my wife, I
am willing that she should have a share of the property; but you, a
miserable foundling, why were you lifted up so high? Was it not enough
that you were clothed and fed till you came to man's estate? Not a
hand's-breadth of the estancia land should be yours by right, and now
you presume to speak of love for Elaria."
My blood was on fire with so many insults, but I remembered all the
benefits I had received from his father, and did not raise my hand
against him. Without more words he left me. I then hastened to Elaria
and told her what had passed.
"This," I said, "is the secret you would not impart to me. Why, when
you knew these things, was I kept in ignorance?"
"Have pity on me, Anacleto," she replied, crying. "Did I not see that
you two were no longer friends and brothers, and this without knowing
of each other's love? I dared not open my lips to you or to him. It is
always a woman's part to suffer in silence. God intended us to be poor,
Anacleto, for we were both born of poor parents, and had this property
never come to us, how happy we might have been!"
"Why do you say such things, Elaria? Since we love each other, we
cannot be unhappy, rich or poor."
"Is it a little matter," she replied, "that Torcuato must be our bitter
enemy? But you do not know every thing. Before Torcuato's father died,
he said he wished his son to marry me when we came of age. When he
spoke about it we were sitting together by his bed."
"And what did you say, Elaria?" I asked, full of concern.
"Torcuato promised to marry me. I only covered my face, and was silent,
for I loved you best even then, though I was almost a child, and my
heart was filled with grief at his words. After we came here, Torcuato
reminded me of his father's words. I answered that I did not wish to
marry him, that he was only a brother to me. Then he said that we were
young and he could wait until I was of another mind. This is all I have
to say; but how shall we three live together any longer? I cannot bear
to part from you, and every moment I tremble to think what may happen
when you two are together."
"Fear nothing," I said. "To-morrow morning you can go to spend a week
at some friend's house in the town; then I will speak to Torcuato, and
tell him that since we cannot live in peace together we must separate.
Even if he answers with insults I shall do nothing to grieve you, and
if he refuses to listen to me, I shall send some person we both respect
to arrange all things between us."
This satisfied her, but as evening approached she grew paler, and I
knew she feared Torcuato's return. He did not, however, come back that
night. Early next morning she was ready to leave. It was an easy walk
to the town, but the dew was heavy on the grass, and I saddled a horse
for her to ride. I had just lifted her to the saddle when Torcuato
appeared. He came at great speed, and throwing himself off his horse,
advanced to us. Elaria trembled and seemed ready to sink upon the earth
to hide herself like a partridge that has seen the hawk. I prepared
myself for insults and perhaps violence. He never looked at me; he only
spoke to her.
"Elaria," he said, "something has happened--something that obliges me
to leave this house and neighbourhood at once. Remember when I am away
that my father, who cherished you and enriched you with his bounty, and
who also cherished and enriched this ingrate, spoke to us from his
dying bed and made me promise to marry you. Think what his love was; do
not forget that his last wish is sacred, and that Anacleto has acted a
base, treacherous part in trying to steal you from me. He was lifted
out of the mire to be my brother and equal in everything except this.
He has got a third part of my inheritance--let that satisfy him; your
own heart, Elaria, will tell you that a marriage with him would be a
crime before God and man. Look not for my return to-morrow nor for many
days. But if you two begin to laugh at my father's dying wishes, look
for me, for then I shall not delay to come back to you, Elaria, and to
you, Anacleto. I have spoken."
He then mounted his horse and rode away. Very soon we learned the cause
of his sudden departure. He had quarrelled over his cards and in a
struggle that followed had stabbed his adversary to the heart. He had
fled to escape the penalty. We did not believe that he would remain
long absent; for Torcuato was very young, well off, and much liked,
and this was, moreover, his first offence against the law. But time
went on and he did not return, nor did any message from him reach us,
and we at last concluded that he had left the country. Only now after
four years have I accidentally discovered his fate through seeing his
piebald horse.
After he had been absent over a year, I asked Elaria to become my wife.
"We cannot marry till Torcuato returns," she said. "For if we take the
property that ought to have been all his, and at the same time disobey
his father's dying wish, we shall be doing an evil thing. Let us take
care of the property till he returns to receive it all back from us;
then, Anacleto, we shall be free to marry."
I consented, for she was more to me than lands and cattle. I put
the estancia in order and leaving a trustworthy person in charge of
everything I invested my money in fat bullocks to resell in Buenos
Ayres, and in this business I have been employed ever since. From the
estancia I have taken nothing, and now it must all come back to us--his
inheritance and ours. This is a bitter thing and will give Elaria great
grief.
Thus ended Anacleto's story, and when he had finished speaking and
still seemed greatly troubled in his mind, Sotelo said to him,
"Friend, let me advise you what to do. You will now shortly be married
to the woman you love and probably some day a son will be born to you.
Let him be named Torcuato, and let Torcuato's inheritance be kept
for him. And if God gives you no son, remember what was done for you
and for the girl you are going to marry, when you were orphans and
friendless, and look out for some unhappy child in the same condition,
to protect and enrich him as you were enriched."
"You have spoken well," said Anacleto. "I will report your words to
Elaria, and whatever she wishes done that will I do."
So ends my story, friend. The cattle-drover left us that night and
we saw no more of him. Only before going he gave the piebald and the
silver trappings to Sotelo. Six months after his visit, Sotelo also
received a letter from him to say that his marriage with Elaria had
taken place; and the letter was accompanied with a present of seven
cream-coloured horses with black manes and hoofs.