After having had his wounds dressed, Roger threw himself down upon
the bed that had been prepared for him, and lay tossing for hours.
Hitherto he had believed, and had often reproached himself for it,
that he had not loved Amenche as she had loved him. She had loved
him with the passion and devotion of the people of her race, and it
was no figure of speech when she said that she was ready to give
her life for him.
Roger knew that, until lately, his love had been poor by the side
of hers. From the time he had sailed from England, to his first
meeting with her, he had pictured to himself that some day, when he
came to command a ship of his own, he would marry his cousin, if
she had borne him in mind since he parted with her on Plymouth Hoe.
This dream had faded away, from the time he had first met Amenche;
and when Cacama had proposed the marriage to him, he had accepted
the offer gladly. His chance of ever leaving the country, at that
time, seemed slight; and he felt sure that he should be happy with
Amenche. Since that time, the girl's frank expression of her love
for him, her tender devotion, and her willingness to sacrifice
country, and people, and all, to throw in her lot with him, had
greatly heightened the feeling he had towards her; and he had come
to love her truly; but still, perhaps, rather with the calm earnest
affection of a brother, than the passionate devotion of a lover.
But now he knew that she had his whole heart. If she died, it
seemed of little consequence to him what became of his life. It was
for his sake that she had risked everything, had left all--friends
and home and country--and he felt that he would gladly die with
her.
Morning was breaking before Malinche came into his room.
"She is sensible," she said, "and my countryman, who is with her,
thinks that she will live."
The relief was so great that Roger burst into tears.
"Come with me," Malinche said, taking his hand. "We do not think
she knows what has happened, but she looks anxiously about the
room. She is very, very weak; but the leech thinks that if she sees
you, and knows that you are safe and well, it will rouse her and
put her in the way of recovery. You must not talk to her, or excite
her in any way."
Roger followed Malinche into her room. Amenche was lying, without a
vestige of color on her face, and with her eyes closed and her
breathing so faint that Roger, as he looked at her, thought that
she was dead.
"Take her hand and kneel down beside her," Malinche whispered.
Roger took the girl's hand. As he did so, a slight tremor ran
through her, as if she recognized his touch. Then her eyes opened.
"Amenche, my darling, do you know me?" Roger said, as he stooped
his face close to hers.
Her face brightened suddenly, and a look of intense happiness came
into her eyes.
"O Roger!" she whispered; "I dreamed that they had killed you."
"I am safe and well, as you see," he said. "They have hurt you,
darling; but you will get better, and we shall be happy together.
You must not talk, but I may stay by you, if you will keep quiet.
"Drink this first," and he handed to her a cup that the Mexican
doctor held out to him; and placing his arm under Amenche's head,
raised it and poured the liquid between her lips.
Then he laid her head down again on the pillow and, kneeling beside
her, held her hand in his.
She lay looking up into his face, with an expression of quiet
happiness, occasionally murmuring, "Dear Roger."
Presently her eyelids drooped, and in a few minutes her regular
breathing showed that she was asleep.
The Mexican doctor placed another cup of medicine within Roger's
reach, and murmured in his ear, "I think that she will do now. Give
her this when she awakes. I shall be within call, if I am wanted."
Amenche slept for some hours, and Roger, overcome by want of sleep,
and from the anxiety through which he had passed, dropped off many
times into short dozes.
He woke from one of these at a slight movement of Amenche's hand,
and opened his eyes at the moment that she was opening hers.
"What has happened, Roger? And where am I?" she asked, in wonder.
"First drink this medicine, and then I will tell you," he said.
"You remember, dear, we were in the boat together, and we were
attacked. An arrow struck you, but I knew nothing about it until I
had reached the causeway, and found you senseless, and brought you
here to Malinche's room; and she and one of the doctors of your
country dressed your wound, and now you have been sleeping quietly
for some hours."
"Oh yes," she said, "I remember now. I was struck with an arrow. It
was a sharp pain, but I did not cry out; for you had need of all
your strength and vigor. I lay there quietly, and heard the din of
fighting; and at last, when I knew that you had conquered, I felt a
faintness stealing over me, and thought that I was dying; and then
I remember nothing more, only it seemed that, in my dreams, you
came to me and knelt by the side of me and kissed me; and now I
know that that part is true, and I have been having such happy
dreams, ever since.
"But why should I lie here? Cannot I get up?"
"No, dear. You are weak from loss of blood, and quiet is necessary.
Lie here a minute. I will fetch the leech in, to see how you are."
The Mexican was sleeping on some mats outside the door. He at once
came in and, after examining Amenche, pronounced her decidedly
better. Malinche, who had given orders that she was to be informed
as soon as the princess was awake, came in a minute or two; and a
consultation was held, when it was decided that Amenche should at
once be taken from the fort, which was crowded with soldiers, as
well as exposed to the din and turmoil of the night attacks.
Malinche went out and soon returned, saying that she had spoken to
one of the Tezcucan caziques in alliance with the Spaniards. He had
at once offered to receive Amenche at his palace, which was situate
but three miles from the end of the causeway.
"I cannot leave Roger again," the princess said, when she
understood what was proposed.
"There is no thought of your leaving him," Malinche said, kindly.
"Roger is to accompany you. He needs rest and peace almost as much
as you do. Besides, he has been seriously wounded, though he makes
light of it.
"The cazique has sent off a messenger for a party of his people to
meet you. A boat will be in readiness to take you across the lake,
at sunset. You will be carried in litters from the landing place to
his palace."
This programme was carried out and, by nine o'clock that evening,
Roger and Amenche were both settled in luxurious apartments in the
cazique's palace.
Cortez, now recovered from his wounds, prepared for a fresh
advance; which was this time to be conducted in a different manner.
Against so stubborn and active a foe the advance must be
irresistible, steady, and continued. In future, no step backward
was to be taken. Every breach, every canal, was to be filled up so
firmly and solidly that it could never again be disturbed; and for
this purpose every building--whether a private house, temple, or
palace--was to be demolished. It was with the greatest reluctance
that Cortez arrived at this determination. He would fain have saved
the city intact, as the most glorious trophy of his success; but
his experience showed him that with every house a fortress, every
street cut up by canals, it was hopeless to expect to conquer it.
The Indian allies heard his intention with the greatest
satisfaction, for there was ever in their mind the dread that,
should the white men depart, the Aztecs would take a terrible
revenge upon their rebellious subjects. Enormous numbers of men
were assembled, and provided with implements for the work. This was
steadily carried out, until the whole of the suburbs were leveled,
and a wide space round the city left open for the maneuvers of the
cavalry and the play of the artillery.
Before making the last attack, Cortez tried once more to persuade
the emperor to yield; and sent three Aztec nobles, who had been
captured in one of the late fights, to bear a message to him. He
told Guatimozin that he and his people had done all that brave men
could, and that there remained no hope, no chance, of escape. Their
provisions were exhausted. Their communications cut off. Their
vassals had deserted them, and the nations of Anahuac were banded
against them. He prayed him, therefore, to have compassion on his
brave subjects, who were daily perishing before his eyes, and on
the fair city now fast crumbling into ruins. He begged him to
acknowledge his allegiance to the sovereign of Spain; in which case
he should be confirmed in his authority, and the persons, the
property, and all the rights of the Aztecs should be respected.
The young monarch would have instantly refused the terms, but he
called a council to deliberate upon them. Many would have accepted
them, but the priests threw all their influence in the scale
against it; reminding the king of the fate of Montezuma, after all
his hospitality to the Whites, of the seizure and imprisonment of
Cacama, of the massacre of the nobles, of the profanation of the
temple, and of the insatiable greed that had stripped the country
of its treasures.
The answer to the Spaniards was given in the form of a tremendous
sortie along each causeway; but the guns of the Spanish batteries
and ships drove the assailants back, and the operations of
destruction went on. Day by day the army of workers leveled the
houses and filled the canals, although the Mexicans made incessant
attacks upon the troops who covered the workmen. For several weeks
the work continued, while the wretched inhabitants were fast
wasting away with hunger. All the food stored up had long since
been consumed, and the population reduced to feed on roots dug up
in the gardens, on the bark of trees, leaves, and grass, and on
such rats, mice, and lizards as they could capture.
The houses, as the besiegers advanced, were found to be full of
dead; while in some lay men, women, and children in the last stage
of famine. And yet, weakened and suffering as they were, the Aztecs
maintained their resolution, rejecting every overture of Cortez.
At last the division of Alvarado cleared its way into the great
square, and a party, mounting the great temple where so many of
their comrades had been massacred, defeated the Aztecs who guarded
the position, slaughtered the priests, and set fire to the
sanctuary; and the next day the division of Cortez won their way to
the same spot, and joined that of Alvarado.
Seven-eighths of the city was now destroyed; and with the exception
of the king's palace and a few temples, all the buildings that had,
when they first saw it, so excited the admiration of the Spaniards,
and had made the city one of the loveliest in the world, had been
leveled.
In the portion that remained the whole of the Aztec population were
crowded. Their number was still vast, for before the siege began
the people from many of the surrounding cities had flocked into the
capital. Pestilence was aiding famine in its work; and the Spanish
writers say that "as the troops advanced, the bodies lay so thick
that it was impossible to walk without treading on them."
Again and again Cortez endeavored to negotiate with the emperor.
Although so reduced by weakness that they could scarce keep their
feet, the Aztecs maintained their defiant attitude, and the advance
of the allies recommenced. The Aztecs fought as bravely as ever;
but they were so weakened that their missiles were no longer
dangerous, and their arms could scarce lift their weapons.
It was a dreadful carnage. The confederates, panting with hatred of
the race that had subdued and so long humiliated them, showed no
pity; and even when Cortez ordered that quarter should be shown to
all who asked it, the allies refused to be checked, and the work of
slaughter went on until the Spanish trumpets sounded a retreat.
During that day, alone, it was calculated that forty thousand
persons had fallen. That night a mournful stillness reigned over
the city. In silent despair, and yet with no thought of surrender,
the Aztecs awaited their fate.
The next morning, August 15th, 1521, the troops were formed up
again; but before ordering the advance Cortez obtained an interview
with some of the principal chiefs, and persuaded them to see the
emperor, and try to induce him to surrender; but the answer came
that Guatimozin was ready to die where he was, and would hold no
parley with the Spanish commander. Cortez still postponed the
assault for several hours.
Then, finding delay unavailing, he reluctantly gave the order for
the attack to recommence. As upon the previous day it was a mere
slaughter. Many of the Aztecs sought to fly in canoes, but these
were cut off by the fleet.
Presently, however, while the butchery was still going on, the
welcome news was brought that Guatimozin himself had been captured
by one of the vessels. With him was his wife, the beautiful
Princess Tecuichpo, a daughter of Montezuma; and twenty nobles of
high rank. The news of his capture spread rapidly through the fleet
and city, and the feeble resistance the Aztecs still offered ceased
at once.
Guatimozin was brought before Cortez, and behaved with a dignity
and calmness that excited the admiration and respect of the general
and his followers. The next morning, at the emperor's request,
Cortez gave permission for all the survivors of the siege to leave
the town; and issued strict orders, both to the Spaniards and their
savage allies, that no insult or injury should be offered to them.
For three days sad processions of men, women, and children--worn
out with fatigue, wasted with fever and hunger, and in many cases
scarred with wounds--made their way along the causeways. The number
of men, alone, was variously estimated at from thirty to seventy
thousand.
The losses during the siege were also placed at varying figures by
contemporary writers. The lowest estimate was one hundred and
twenty thousand, while some writers place it at double that amount.
The higher figures probably approximate most nearly to the truth,
for the population of the city, in itself very large, was
enormously swelled by the vast number of persons from all the
surrounding cities, who took refuge there at the approach of the
Spaniards.
The Spanish loss was comparatively small, the larger portion of it
being incurred upon the day of the destruction of Alderete's
column. The loss of the allies, however, was very large; as they
were not provided, as were the Spaniards, with armor which defied
the missiles of the enemy. Of the Tezcucans, alone, it is said that
thirty thousand perished.
The amount of booty taken in the city was comparatively small, and
the army was bitterly disappointed at the poor reward which it
reaped for its labors and sacrifices. There can be no doubt that
the Aztec treasures were removed and buried, before the approach of
the Spaniards to the city. Indeed, during the siege the Aztecs
constantly taunted them with shouts that, even if they ever took
the city, they would find no gold there to reward their efforts.
The defense of the city of Mexico has been frequently likened to
that of Jerusalem against Titus. In each case a vast population,
ignorant of the arts of war, resisted with heroic constancy the
efforts of a civilized enemy, and succumbed to hunger and disease
rather than to the foe.
The fate of the Aztecs befell them because, while a conquering
people, they had enslaved and tyrannized over the nations they
subdued; extending to them no rights or privileges, but using them
simply as means of supplying the pomp and luxury of the capital,
and of providing men for its wars. Even the cities of the valley,
the near neighbors of Mexico, were kept in a galling state of
dependence; and the result was that the whole of the Aztec Empire
broke up at once, and fell upon its oppressors as soon as the
coming of the Spaniards afforded them the opportunity for
retaliation and revenge. Had it not been for this, it would have
needed a force many times as numerous as that of Cortez to conquer
an empire so extensive and populous, and composed of peoples so
brave and fearless of death.
Terrible as the destruction of life was, in the capture of Mexico,
the Spaniards were not open to blame for it; except in the massacre
of the nobles, for which conduct Cortez was in no way responsible.
The war was not conducted with the cruelty that too often
distinguished the warfare of the Spaniards. Cortez had certainly no
desire to destroy the beautiful capital of the country he had
conquered for Spain. The prisoners taken during the siege, and the
people who came out and surrendered, were always treated with
kindness, even when the Spaniards were maddened by the sight of the
daily sacrifices of their countrymen by the Aztecs. Again and
again, during the siege, Cortez endeavored to induce the enemy to
come to terms; and after the fighting was over, the whole of the
survivors were permitted to depart unharmed.
A fortnight after the fall of Mexico, Amenche and Roger were both
convalescent. Amenche's wound had, after the first day, caused but
little anxiety. She had fainted from loss of blood, and from the
effects of the long strain which she had undergone, from the time
that she had heard that Roger was a captive in the hands of the
Mexicans, and destined for sacrifice at the temple. Under the
influence, then, of happiness; and of the care and attention she
received; she was, in two or three days, well enough to get up and
go into the adjoining room, and sit by the couch of Roger; who was
prostrated by fever, the result of imprisonment, anxiety, and his
wounds. For a time his life was in danger; but after the crisis had
passed, he too recovered rapidly.
Malinche came several times to see them, and a warm affection
sprang up between her and Amenche.
"What do you mean to do, Roger?" she asked him one day, when she
found him alone.
"I mean to marry Amenche, at once," he said; "and to go back to
Europe, if possible, without delay."
"I have managed that for you," Malinche said. "I spoke to Cortez
yesterday. The city cannot resist many days longer, and after that
we hope that there will be no more fighting. At any rate, I told
him that you were so shaken from what you had gone through, it
would be a long time before you would be fit to carry arms again;
and that you desired greatly to go to Europe, for a time; and he
has consented that you shall go down to the coast with the first
convoy of wounded, as soon as the city falls. Of course, he has
given consent for your marriage with Amenche; and said, when I
asked him, that she had fairly won you. He says that, if you return
hither, he will give to Amenche a wide portion of her brother's
dominions. I did not tell him that it was little likely he would
ever see you out here, again."
During the next fortnight, Roger instructed Amenche in the outlines
of the Christian faith and, the day before the convoy was to start,
three weeks after the fall of Mexico, Father Olmedo received her
into the Church, and the marriage ceremony took place. It was
attended by Cortez and most of his leaders, and by many of the
native nobles.
Among them, Roger was glad to meet Cuitcatl. He was one of the
party who had been captured with the emperor; and had been at once
released, by Cortez, when the latter was informed by Malinche that
he had befriended and released Roger. That evening, the two friends
had a long talk together.
"You will be happy," Cuitcatl said, "and will come, in time, in
your home in your own country, to look back at this terrible time
as a troubled dream. I do not mourn for Cacama or Maclutha. They
are fortunate in escaping the troubles that yet remain, for my
unhappy country; for I well foresee that the Spaniards will
gradually subdue those who have served them so well in their
campaign against us. Their allies will in time become their
subjects, until the whole empire of the Aztecs will lie prostrate
at their feet.
"But whatever happens, I shall take no further part in it. I have
fought by the side of the Aztecs against my own countrymen. I have
done my best to save our nation from falling under the dominion of
the Spaniards. I shall retire now to my estates, and devote myself
to them. Cortez has given me a paper, signed by him, saying that I,
although fighting against him, saved the life of a Spanish
prisoner, who was the only one of those captured who escaped being
sacrificed; and that, therefore, he orders all Spaniards to treat
me with kindness and consideration, and confirms to me and my
heirs, to all time, the possession of my estates free from all
takes or imposts whatever. Malinche obtained this document from
him, and has induced the treasurer and chamberlain, also, to affix
their seals to it; and she says that it will be undoubtedly
respected.
"As you know, Roger, I should long ago have married my cousin, who
was one of Maclutha's ladies in waiting; but we deferred it until
these troubles should be over. I have been to Tezcuco today, and we
shall be married at the end of the week; so that I have every hope
of leading a quiet and happy life, and think that, in the end,
these troubles will tend to the happiness of the people of the
country. As a Tezcucan, I can acknowledge that the Aztec tyranny
was a heavy one, that the people were sorely oppressed. The
wholesale sacrifices at the temples, now abolished forever, were
the cause of constant wars; and I think that when the Spaniards
once overcome all resistance, and establish a firm and stable
government, the people will be happier than they ever could have
been under the Aztec rule.
"What has become of Bathalda?"
"He accompanied us here, and then went off to your estates; saying
that he should collect a few of his friends and occupy your house,
to see that none took advantage of the troubles to plunder it. I
recommend him to your care, Cuitcatl."
"There is no occasion to do that, Roger. He has been a faithful
servant and friend, and shall in future be my right hand."
The next morning Malinche came to say farewell to them.
"How much has taken place, in the last four years, Roger!" she
said. "Then, I was a slave girl. You were a captive in a strange
country. What scenes we have passed through since then!
"I am sorry, indeed, that you are going, Roger," and the tears came
into her eyes; "you were my first friend, and I have loved you ever
since, as a brother. I shall miss you sorely, indeed. However, I
know that you and Amenche will be happy together.
"Princess, I have something of yours," and she held up a heavy
girdle.
Amenche gave a cry of joy.
"I missed it," she said, "but I thought that it must have fallen
off in the boat, or as Roger carried me thence to the castle.
"See, Roger," she said, holding it out to them, "this is my dowry.
I told you I should not come to you a penniless bride, but I have
thought lately that I was mistaken. Maclutha, when she died, gave
me all the jewels we carried away from the treasure room at
Tezcuco. I selected all the most valuable ones, and sewed them into
this broad girdle, which I put on under my things on the night when
you escaped. Its loss has grieved me, though you have said that the
two little bags you have, already, would suffice to make you rich.
Still, they were Maclutha's, and I wanted to give you mine; but I
could not think what had become of the belt."
"I found it on you, Amenche, when we loosened your robe to examine
your wound; and put it by to give to you or Roger, whichever might
recover; and now I am glad to hand it over, as your joint property.
I have already returned Roger his own two little bags, that he had
given me to take care of.
"And now, farewell to you both. You will think of me, sometimes, in
your distant home in England?"
And Malinche, bursting into tears, hurried away.
The journey to the coast was an easy one, as the sick were all
transported on litters, carried by native porters. The bracing air
of the high land did much to restore the strength of the sick men,
who had been suffering much from the terrible heat of the valley.
The officer in command of the convoy halted them for a week on the
Tlascalan plateau, in order that they might get the full benefit of
the cool air; and by the time they reached the coast, and were
carried on board ship, Roger felt his strength fast returning.
A comfortable cabin was assigned to him and Amenche, as Cortez had,
at Malinche's request, written a letter specially commending them
to the care of the officer in command of the ship. The voyage to
Spain was a long one and, before the vessel arrived at Cadiz, Roger
and Amenche were completely restored to health and strength.
Roger's success, indeed, had been beyond his wildest hopes. The two
bags of jewels, and those which Amenche had brought away with her,
would suffice to make him a very rich man. He had, too, an
assortment of the finest Mexican stuffs, which Malinche had given
him as a special present for his friends at home; and he had a bar
of gold, of the value of a thousand pounds, which was his share (as
one of Cortez's bodyguard) of the gold found at the capture of the
capital.
He had learned, from a vessel which was spoken as they neared
Spain, that England and Spain were in alliance against France; and
he had no doubt, therefore, that he should find English ships at
Cadiz. His heart was gladdened, as the vessel entered the port, by
seeing the English flag flying on several vessels in harbor.
As soon as Roger and his companions landed, they were surrounded by
an eager crowd, all anxious to learn more of the capture of Mexico;
of which a swift vessel, sent off as soon as the city fell, had
brought news six weeks earlier; and Roger had to tell the story of
the siege a dozen times over.
As soon as he could get free from the crowd, he went to a money
changer's, and obtained Spanish gold in exchange for his bar. Then
he purchased, at a clothier's, a suit of garments of Spanish
fashion and, putting these on, was able to move about without
attracting observation.
Amenche did not disembark until after nightfall, but Roger's first
care after landing was to purchase a chestful of garments, fit for
a Spanish lady of rank, and to send them out to the vessel. Having
sent these off, he made his way down to the port and, inquiring
among the sailors, found that an English ship would sail on the
following day.
Hiring a boat, he went on board. He determined to maintain his
character as a Spaniard to the last, as he would thereby avoid all
questions; and it was, accordingly, in that language that he
arranged for a passage for himself and his wife, the captain taking
him for a Spanish gentleman having business with the Court in
London.
Having settled this, Roger returned on board and, late in the
evening, was rowed with Amenche to the English ship, which was to
sail early the next morning. The wind was favorable, and the ship
made a quick passage. The captain and sailors amused Roger by their
comments on his appearance. Never, they agreed, had they seen a
Spaniard of such size and strength before.
"He stands six feet three, if he is an inch," an old sailor said,
"and he is as broad as any man I ever saw. He is never a bit like a
Spaniard in appearance, with his blue eyes and light brown hair. If
you were to put him in good English broadcloth, and teach him to
talk like a Christian, no one would dream he was other than an
Englishman. The Spaniards generally have solemn faces, but this
chap looks as if he could laugh and joke with the best of us. One
could almost swear that he understood what I am saying, now."
Roger was several times tempted to say that he did understand, but
he kept his counsel.
As soon as they landed, near London Bridge, they went to an inn;
and when the sailors who had carried his trunk for him had left, he
addressed the landlord in English.
"Can you direct me to a clothier, where I can obtain suitable
clothes?" he said. "I have been staying in Spain and, having been
wrecked and lost all my outfit, had to rig myself in Spanish
fashion. I also wish to purchase clothing of English fashion for my
wife."
"I thought you were an Englishman, by your looks," the landlord
said; "though the fashion of your clothes was altogether foreign,
and you speak, too, with a strange accent."
For indeed, Roger found the English words come with difficulty;
after having, for nearly six years, spoken nothing but Mexican and
Spanish.
"I have been some time away," he said; "and have been talking with
the Spaniards until I have well-nigh forgotten my own tongue."
Two hours later, he was attired in the fashion of a well-to-do
merchant; and Amenche made, as he told her, the prettiest wife
merchant ever had. They stayed for a week in London, Amenche being
greatly amused and interested in all she saw. At the end of that
time, having purchased a stout horse, and a sword to defend himself
against any robbers he might meet with on the way, Roger started to
ride down to Plymouth, with Amenche behind him on a pillion.
Six days after leaving London they entered the town, and Roger,
having seen Amenche comfortably bestowed at the principal inn, took
his way to the house of Master Diggory Beggs. The latter was in his
shop, and came forward, bowing, as Roger entered it.
"What can I do for you today, good sir?" he said. "I have goods of
all sorts and kinds: Italian work and Spanish; silks, and satins,
and velvets."
"I would have a talk with you alone, Master Beggs. I am the bearer
of a message from an old friend of yours. If you will grant me a
few minutes' talk, we may do business together."
"By all means," the merchant said, thinking that such an
introduction offered some important transactions. "Will you be good
enough to follow me?" and he led the way upstairs.
Dame Mercy was sitting at work with her youngest daughter when they
entered the room, Diggory saying:
"Please to leave, Dame. This gentleman and I have business of
importance to discuss together."
"There is no occasion for you to leave us," Roger said. "My
business is not so private but that you and Mistress Agnes may hear
us."
"You know my daughter's name!" Dame Beggs exclaimed, in surprise.
"The gentleman comes with a message from an old friend of ours,"
Diggory said; "and has doubtless heard him mention our daughter's
name."
"And Dorothy," Roger asked; "she is well, I hope."
"My eldest daughter was married, three months since," Dame Mercy
replied.
Roger gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
"And so none of you know me?" he asked. "And yet, you are but
little changed; except that Mistress Agnes has grown into a young
woman, whereas she was but a child when I parted from her."
Diggory Beggs and his wife gazed at Roger in astonishment. Agnes
stood up, with her hands tightly clasped together.
"It is Roger," she cried. "Oh, mother! It is Roger, come back to
us."
"I am Roger, sure enough, aunt," he said, stooping and kissing her;
and then shaking hands with his uncle, and kissing Agnes.
"And your father," Diggory asked, "and the Swan?"
"It is a sad story," Roger said. "A very sad story, uncle. Six
years ago, the Swan was wrecked on the coast of Tabasco; and every
soul, save myself, lost."
It was a blow for Diggory Beggs. He had, indeed, long since given
up all hope of ever seeing his cousin Reuben, or of obtaining any
return for the capital he had embarked on the Swan; but the sight
of Roger had, for a moment, raised his hopes that the venture had,
after all, been productive. However, he speedily recovered himself.
"I am grieved to hear it, Roger, though in no ways surprised. For
two years we looked for your return; but we have all, long since,
given up hope, and written off our shares in the Swan as lost
money. I am sorry for Reuben, very sorry, for I loved him like a
brother.
"Well, well, do not let us talk about it, now. You are restored to
us, safe and sound; and though the loss was a heavy one, and
crippled me for a time, I have got over it.
"Now, tell us what have you been doing, ever since. And by what
miracle have you returned, safe and sound?"
"It is a long story, uncle. A very long story. But before I begin
it, I may tell you that, though the ship and its venture were lost,
I myself have returned by no means penniless; and can, indeed,
repay to the full all the money expended upon the Swan and her
outfit.
"Now I want you all to come round with me to the inn, for there I
have left a lady whom I would fain introduce to you."
"Your wife?" Mistress Mercy cried. "You don't say you have brought
home a wife, Roger?"
"That do I, aunt. She is a princess, in her own country; but what
is much better, she is the dearest of women, and all but gave her
life to save mine."
Mistress Mercy looked grave, and was about to speak, when Roger
interrupted her.
"I know what you are about to say, aunt. The thought of having a
foreign woman for your niece is shocking to you. Never mind, leave
it unsaid, until you have seen her.
"But as we go, let us call in and see Dorothy, and take her on with
us. I should wish her to be one of the first to welcome my wife."
Dorothy was as astonished as the others had been, when they arrived
at her house with Roger; and cast a meaning glance at him, when she
heard that he had brought home a wife.
"I know what you are thinking of, Dorothy--our parting on the hoe."
Dorothy laughed.
"I meant it when I said it, Dorothy, and meant it for a good time
afterwards. It was only when it seemed that I should never come
back again that I fell in love with some one else; and when you
have heard my story, and know what she did for me, and how much I
owe her, and come to love her for herself, you won't blame me."
"I don't blame you one bit, Roger," she said, frankly. "When you
went away, we thought we cared for each other; but of course we
were only boy and girl then, and when I grew up and you did not
come home, and it seemed that you never would come home, as you
say, I fell in love with someone else.
"And now I will put on my hood, and come round and see your wife.
What is her name?"
"Her name is Amenche," Roger said; "and Amenche I mean to call her.
When she was christened--for of course she had to be christened
before we were married--Father Olmedo said she must have a
Christian name, and christened her Caterina; but for all that her
name is Amenche, and we mean to stick to it.
"But come along; she has been an hour alone in this strange place,
already, and must begin to think that I have run away from her."
Dorothy and Agnes were at once won by the soft beauty of the
dark-skinned princess; and when, that evening, Roger told the story
of all that had taken place in Mexico, Dame Mercy's last prejudice
vanished, and she took Amenche in her arms and kissed her tenderly.
"My dear," she said, "Roger has always been as a son to me, and
henceforth you will be as one of my daughters."
As to Diggory, his delight and satisfaction were almost too great
for words. He was overjoyed that Roger had returned, vastly
gratified that the money he expended on the Swan was to be repaid,
and greatly captivated by Amenche.
The princess could speak but a few words of English, for Roger had
been afraid to commence her tuition in that language until they
were safely in England: but she was greatly pleased with the
welcome she received; and began, for the first time, to feel that
someday she might come to regard this strange country as home.
There was a long talk, between Roger and his uncle, as to the steps
that should be taken. It was agreed that, now Spain and England
were so closely allied, it would be imprudent in the extreme to
allow it to become known that the Swan had sailed for the Western
Indies, or that Roger had obtained wealth there; for if it came to
the ears of the Court--and such strange news would travel fast--it
might well be that a ruinous fine might be imposed upon all
concerned in the matter. Therefore, it was arranged that nothing
whatever should be said about it; but that it should be given out
that the Swan had been wrecked in foreign parts; and that Roger,
who had been sole survivor of the wreck, had settled abroad and
made money there, and had married a foreign lady.
More than that, it would be unnecessary to tell. The gems could be
sent over, a few at a time, to Amsterdam; and there sold to
merchants who would care nothing whence they came; and the partners
of Diggory Beggs, in the venture of the Swan, would be only too
glad to receive their money back again, and to ask no questions as
to how it had been obtained. And so matters were carried out.
For some months, Roger remained in nominal partnership with his
uncle; and then bought a large estate, a few miles out of the town,
where he set up as a country gentleman. He was, for a time,
somewhat shyly looked upon by the magistrates of the county, who
deemed it an unheard-of thing for a Plymouth merchant thus to
settle among them; but in time he was accepted, especially after it
became known that, when he went up to town, he held his place among
the highest there, and kept a state and expenditure equal to that
of many of the nobles.
His wife was remarkable, not only for her beauty, but for the
richness of her jewels, many of which were fashioned in a way such
as had never before been seen at the English Court. As time went
on, and the relations between England and Spain grew cold, there
was no longer any occasion for secrecy; and little by little it
became known that the Swan had sailed to the Spanish main, that
Roger had formed one of the conquering band of Cortez, and that
Amenche was not a Spaniard but an Aztec Princess. This caused a
great talk at the time, and added much to the consideration in
which Roger was held. He took a leading position in the country
and, many years after, fitted out two ships at his own cost to
fight against the Spanish Armada.
Happily, Amenche's health never suffered from the change to the
comparatively cold climate of Devonshire. She bore Roger several
children, and to this day many of the first families in Devonshire
are proud that there runs in their veins the blood of the Aztec
princess.