CHAPTER IV.
S
SHE was still weeping quietly, when the branches of the orange tree which formed a leafy bower around her, were parted, and a voice exclaimed, with passionate intensity,—
‘Maraquita!’
The girl sprang to her feet without any effort to conceal her tears. Henri de Courcelles stood beside her.
‘Oh, go!’ she implored, ‘go at once. You don’t know the risk you are running.My mother suspects us, and she may be back in another moment. Formysake, Henri, go.’
‘Not unless you will tell me the cause of your grief. Is it because this burden is too heavy for you? If so, come with me, and let us share it, and fight the world together.’
‘I cannot talk with you about it now, Henri,’ replied Maraquita, with a look of alarm; ‘it is impossible. Youmustleave me. I see Jessica coming from the house.’
‘Then where will you meet me, for I shall not rest until you have satisfied my curiosity; besides, I have important news for you about—it.’
This intelligence made Quita change her mind. She was intensely anxious to have the assurance of her own complete safety, and she could be cunningenough where her inclinations were concerned.
‘Have you done—what I asked you?’ she gasped.
‘I have made everything right, but I cannot explain the matter to you in a moment, nor where there is any fear of our being overheard.’
‘Wait for me in the oleander thicket, then,’ cried Maraquita. ‘I will be there in five minutes.’
Henri de Courcelles nodded acquiescence, and disappeared as old Jessica came up to her young mistress.
‘Missus Courtney send me to ask if my missy like to have someting to eat and drink now; and will missy come back to de house, or will she have it brought out here under de trees?’ asked the negress.
‘Neither, Jessica. Tell mamma I am not hungry or thirsty, only very sleepy,and I want to be left alone for an hour or two. I can call you when I wake.’
‘If missy sleepy, better come and sleep in house,’ urged Jessica. ‘So many flies and ’skeeters about here.’
‘I wish you would let me do as I like, Jessica,’ said Quita, ‘and keep your suggestions to yourself.’
‘I’se very sorry, missy. I won’t say any more, only stop here and keep off de flies and tings from your face.’
‘You’re enough to drive a saint mad!’ cried Maraquita, stamping her foot. ‘Didn’t I tell you I wanted to be left alone? What is it to you if I like flies and mosquitoes buzzing about me? Go back to the house, and don’t come near me again till I give you leave.’
The old nurse obeyed without a murmur; but shedidmurmur, for all that. The coloured people are very secretive,and can assume an appearance of complete innocence, all the time they are cognisant of their employer’s most important secrets.
‘Ah! my poor little missy,’ muttered Jessica to herself, as she shambled on her bare flat feet towards the house, ‘you think ole black nurse blind, but she see too well. She know all about de baby at Doctor’s bungalow, and who’s de fader and moder of it, as well as you. And she will see her little missy revenged, before many moons is ober her head, into de bargain. Cuss dat oberseer!’
Meanwhile Maraquita, having watched Jessica into the house, through the branches of the orange tree, stole out the opposite side, and, keeping well out of view of the windows, took her way towards the oleander thicket, which lay between her home and De Courcelles’bungalow. It was a wild patch of flowering shrubs, densely planted together, and forming a sufficient ambush to conceal any number of persons from the public gaze. There was a wooden bench in one part of it, where Maraquita and De Courcelles had often held their moonlight trysts together; and there she found him eager to tell his news, and claim his reward.
Quita sunk down upon the bench, and trembled. She was not only weak from her recent illness, but she dreaded the scene which might follow the impending revelation.
‘You are far from well yet, my Quita,’ said Henri de Courcelles, as he folded his arms about her trembling form; ‘but I have something to tell you which will set your mind at rest.’
‘Tell it to me quickly, then,’ rejoinedMaraquita. ‘Have you sent it out of the island? Are yousureI shall never hear of it again?’
‘No, I cannot quite promise you that,’ replied De Courcelles, with an intuitive disgust (even in the midst of his passion) for her undisguised selfishness. ‘It has never been in my hands, so it was impossible I could form any plans for it. But circumstances have fallen out so fortunately, that I don’t see any chance of suspicion falling uponyou.’
‘What do you mean? I don’t understand you,’ said Quita pettishly. ‘If it is to remain in San Diego, the secret may come out any day, and my only safety will be in leaving the island.’
‘Wait a moment, dearest, and listen to me. It seems that the day before the Doctor’s death, he brought the child home to his bungalow, where it now is—’
‘With Lizzie? In the bungalow?’ cried Quita, turning ashy pale. ‘Oh, my God! then all is over, and I am lost!’
‘Hush! hush! Maraquita. Nothing of the sort. Liz refuses to say a word upon the subject.Ihave questioned her narrowly; so has your father; and all she will answer is that before his death Dr Fellows extracted a solemn oath from her never to disclose anything concerning the child, and that her lips are sealed.’
‘Oh, but it will come out; it is sure to come out some day!’ exclaimed Quita, weeping, as she wrung her hands in abject fear. ‘You have ruined me, Henri! You have destroyed all my future prospects! I shall be branded for ever as a dishonest woman!’
‘But it is impossible! All the plantation—I may say all San Diego—already believes the child to be Lizzie’s own.’
Maraquita stared at him in astonishment.
‘They believethat! But what does Lizzie say?’
‘She can say nothing! Her lips are sealed by her oath!’
‘Some day the shame may prove too hard to bear, and they will be forced open.’
‘It will be too late then to assert her innocence. The world of San Diego is quite convinced by this time that she is the mother of the infant, and her attempts to cast the blame on you will only appear to be an impudent subterfuge. She has no proof—or witness—to bring forward in confirmation of the truth.’
‘Poor Lizzie,’ said Quita, in a low voice, visions of past kindnesses on the part of her adopted sister, and of a faithful life-long affection, floated before her mind, andmade her tremble. Something—was it the last effort made by her Good Angel in her behalf—seemed to rise within her heart, and prompt her to cry out thatit must not be, that shecouldnot be guilty of this dreadful wrong, and let her just burthen lie on the shoulders of an innocent woman. But then she remembered the shame and the disgrace that would ensue to her, and how her parents would despise and reproach her, and Sir Russell Johnstone would refuse to make her his wife, and moral cowardice made her shiver and remain silent.
‘Ay! poor Lizzie,’ echoed De Courcelles. ‘I am really sorry for the girl; but what can be done? It is a choice between two evils. Eithershemust be sacrificed, or my peerless Maraquita. Do you suppose I could hesitate between them? There is one thing to be said,however. Lizzie is not in your position. She will not feel the disgrace so keenly as you would. And, before long, Maraquita, we may be able to relieve her of her burthen.’
Maraquita did not like the last allusion.
‘I don’t seehow,’ she answered lamely.
‘Have you forgotten, then, what you promised, when you asked me to assist you to escape the inevitable blame of the consequences of our mutual love,—that, if your parents refused to sanction our marriage, you would elope with me to Santa Lucia, and not return until we were man and wife in the eyes of the law, as we are now in the eyes of Heaven?’
‘But you havenotdone as I asked you,’ she replied evasively. ‘I don’t see that you have done anything.Itis still here, closer at hand even than I thought it was, and (whatever you may say) liableat any moment to be brought home to my door. And there is another danger, Henri. Mamma has discovered our secret—how, I am unable to say, but she has told me so pretty plainly, and also that she will keep it only on one condition—’
‘And that is—’
‘That I accept the proposals of Sir Russell Johnstone.’
‘You shall not!’ cried her lover indignantly. ‘I will not stand by quietly and see the woman I considermy wifehanded over to that bald-headed old Governor. I will go straight up to Mr Courtney sooner, and confess the truth, and ask his pardon for what I have done. Surely he would never wish you to marry another man, if he knew what has taken place between us. And if he persists in dragging you to the altar, I will tear you from yourbridegroom’s arms, and stab you to the heart, before he shall claim what is mine.’
Quita’s star-like eyes dilated with terror. She knew something of what the Spanish and Creole blood is capable of doing when roused, and foresaw bloodshed—perhaps murder—if Henri de Courcelles did not have his own way. And yet, to give up the brilliant prospect before her, in order to become an overseer’s wife, and one whose maiden reputation would be lightly spoken of, seemed to be impossible. Why had she ever entangled her feet in a net which threatened to drag her down to a life of obloquy and shame? To what friend could she turn in her great need? Suddenly the idea flashed across her mind that she would confess everything to her mother. Mrs Courtney alreadyknew (or had guessed) the truth, and counselled her daughter on the best mode of escaping its results. She was very anxious to see Maraquita Lady Johnstone. If making a clean breast of her secret brought a certain amount of recrimination on her head, it would at the same time secure her an ally with whom to fight this terrible battle for a name and a position in life. For the first time hope and comfort seemed to enter her breast. If her mother were on her side, she felt she could defy Henri de Courcelles, and Liz Fellows, and the world. All their assertions would be taken as impudent lies, and only secure their own immediate banishment from Beauregard. But, meanwhile, her lover must be quieted and conciliated, and Maraquita knew how to do it full well. She had scarcely conceivedthe notion how to act in the future, before her white arms were wreathed about his neck.
‘Henri,’ she cried, with her lips to his, ‘don’t speak to me like that! Don’t think of such a thing, for Heaven’s sake! Do you imagine thatIwould ever consent to be placed in such a position, or that any amount of tyranny would make me marry a man against my will? Let the worst come to the worst, dear; let mamma tell my father of our intrigue; it will only result in your having to leave San Diego. WhetherIshall be able to go too, remains to be proved. I am under age, you know, and if papa chooses to lock me up, or send me to England, I suppose he can. But eventhatwill be better than being forced to marry a man I don’t love; and you know that I shall always rememberyou, dearest, and think of the time that is past, as the happiest portion of my life.’
Henri de Courcelles looked sullen and suspicious. The clasping arms were very sweet, and the ripe lips very tempting, but there was a false ring in Quita’s speech, which made itself apparent to his senses, although his judgment could not detect it. There was no fault to be found with her words, yet they inspired him with distrust, and he felt certain that she was betraying whilst she kissed him.
‘I don’t know what to think of you, Maraquita,’ he said presently. ‘I suppose you love me, in your way, but you seem very ready to fall in with your parents’ plans to get rid of me.’
‘But whatcouldI do, Henri, if my father was determined to separate us?Am I not completely in his power? Our only chance appears to me to lie in secrecy, and yet you speak as if you would disclose the affair to all San Diego.’
‘And if I hold my tongue and remain quiet, what then? You will marry Sir Russell Johnstone before my very eyes, and I shall have to grin and bear it.’
‘We are the most unfortunate people in the world’, sighed Maraquita, with mock sentimentality.
‘You mean thatIam the most unfortunate man in the world, ever to have set my heart on a girl who doesn’t care two straws for me. I can see through you now, Maraquita. You were willing enough to commit the sin, but you are too great a coward to face the consequences of it. You have deceived and disobeyed your parents over and overagain, when it suited your pleasure to do so, but when it comes to a question of marrying the man you profess to love, you take refuge behind the transparent screen of filial duty and affection. I was good enough for your lover, it appears, but I amnotgood enough to be your husband. You have higher views in prospect for yourself, and I may go anywhere,—be kicked out of my appointment, and cast homeless on San Diego—what does it signify to you, so long as you become Lady Johnstone, and have plenty to eat and drink, and a spotless reputation. But it shall not be! You have made yourselfmine, and I refuse to give you up. If you attempt to become the wife of any other man, whether in deference to your parents’ wishes, or your own, I will blast your name from north to south, till the commonestfellow on the island would refuse to give you his. Every black in San Diego shall knowwhatyou are, a light love, a false woman, and a heartless mother.’
‘You shall not—you dare not!’ gasped Maraquita, now thoroughly frightened.
‘You shall see what I candare!’ he exclaimed wildly. ‘For I will take your life and my own, sooner than give you up to another.’
And with that Henri de Courcelles walked away, and left her sitting there by herself. As soon as she was convinced he was not coming back again, Quita rose, and with trembling steps walked slowly back to the White House. He had succeeded in completely alarming her. She had never seen him like this before, and he was terrible in his anger. His black eyes had gleamed on her like polished steel,and his hand had involuntarily sought his side, as though ready to grasp an invisible stiletto. Quita felt certain he would be capable of any violence, if not restrained, and fear lent her boldness. She would secure one friend at least in her extremity, and whatever it cost her she would confide her trouble to her mother. She found Mrs Courtney alone in her own room, lying on a sofa, with bare feet, and the last novel that had reached San Diego in her hand. But as she saw Maraquita enter the chamber, she raised herself to a sitting position.
‘My dearest child! what is the matter? You are looking quite ill again.’
‘Oh, mamma, mamma,’ cried Quita, sinking at her mother’s feet, ‘I am so unhappy!’
And then, in a broken voice, and withher face still hidden, she told the story of her disgrace, and the danger which appeared to threaten her.
Mrs Courtney listened in silence. She had suspected the cause of her daughter’s illness, and the author of her ruin, but she was hardly prepared to hear there was a living witness to her shame domiciled so close to Beauregard. Her naturally sallow complexion turned almost livid with horror, and her unwieldy frame shook with agitation. And when the girl had finished her miserable recital, all her mother could utter was,—
‘Oh, Maraquita, Maraquita, I couldn’t have believed it of you!’
‘Mother, don’t speak to me like that! I know I have been very wicked, but I have no friend but you, and ifyoudesert me, I shall be lost. Oh, mother, save me this once, and I will do everythingyou ask me in the future. You want me to became Lady Johnstone, don’t you? But you must think of some means of stopping Henri’s tongue, or I never shall be. I did not think he would be so spiteful and revengeful! He says he will stab me at the very altar.’
‘That is all talk, my dear! he will do no such thing! He shall be sent out of Beauregard before a week is over his head; and if he dares to assail your character, your father shall have him punished for it. But listen to me, Quita. There is only one way to fight this scandal, and that is to deny everything. Now, let me understand you plainly. Are yousurethat no one but Dr Fellows and his daughter knew the secret of this birth?’
‘Quitesure, mamma! The Doctor told me so over and over again; and I don’t think Lizzie knowswhosebaby it is—andif she does, she has taken an oath never to reveal it—and Lizzie will keep her oath!’ said Maraquita, with complete faith in the fidelity of her friend.
‘There was no other person in the house at the time?’
‘No one, mamma.’
‘Then your course is plain. Whoever dares to mention this story to you, or at whatever time it may crop up against you,deny it entirely. Say you have never heard of such a thing before, and you are entirely ignorant how it could have originated.I—as your mother—will corroborate your statement, and we will uphold our assertion before the world. Lizzie Fellows is really the only witness that can come against you, and she will not break her promise, I am sure of that.
‘As for that villain De Courcelles, your father shall give him a summary dismissal,and anything he may say in his rage will be taken for revenge. He canprovenothing. He has only his bare word to give for it, and who would believe him against your own parents? Meanwhile, dearest, the sooner your marriage takes place the better, and then you will feel safe. But whatever you do, Maraquita, never acknowledge your shame again, even to De Courcelles. You never know who may overhear it. Try to believe it has never been, and then you will act as though it had never been. As for marrying your father’s overseer, it is out of the question, and like his presumption to dream of it. As if he hadn’t done you harm enough already, without wishing to hamper you for life! It’s like the unreasonable selfishness of men. But you may make your mind easy, my dear, your mother will save you.’
‘Oh, mamma, how I wish I could go away somewhere, and never see nor hear anything of him again!’ sobbed Maraquita.
‘So you shall, Quita, if you will only have a little patience. But cease crying now, my child, or you will make yourself ill. Lie down on my couch, and try to go to sleep. I won’t let you leave the house again until Monsieur de Courcelles has quitted the plantation.’
And with a kiss of forgiveness, Mrs Courtney left her frail daughter to repose.