CHAPTER IX.
M
MEANWHILE Maraquita, up on the hill range, was fast recovering her equanimity. With Lizzie and the Doctor’s bungalow out of sight; with her mother’s assurance that De Courcelles should be banished from Beauregard before they returned to it; with recuperated health, and the prospect of a marriage beyond her most ambitious dreams, life seemed to stretch out like one long vista of pleasure before her. Hers was a shallow, frivolous nature, incapable of looking beyond the present, orof dwelling long upon the past. She was a terrible coward though, and had she remained on the plantation, and been subjected to the entreaties and reproaches of her lover, might have thrown up everything to link her fate with his, and regretted it bitterly for ever afterwards. The marriage she was about to make with Sir Russell Johnstone was in reality far better suited to her. So long as he was attentive to her, and loaded her with presents, she didn’t mind his being middle-aged and ugly, for she had very little sentiment in her nature, and no idea of love as it should be betwixt man and woman. Her notion of a lover was of some one who must be always paying her compliments, or giving her pretty things, or devising schemes for her enjoyment, and in these particulars Sir Russell was perfect. He displayed all the infatuationand imbecility which usually attacks an elderly man who finds himself in sudden and unexpected possession of a beautiful girl; and Maraquita could never inhale too much of the incense of flattery. She bridled, and simpered, and blushed under his adoring glances, as if she had never been subjected to such an ordeal before; whilst Mrs Courtney would entreat ‘dear Sir Russell to spare her little girl such a battery of admiration, or he would frighten her back into her shell.’ Quita was beginning to give herself also all the airs and graces of a Governor’s wife, and to hold her head above even her own mother. The Government Bungalow was charmingly commodious, and filled with official servants, whom the little lady ordered about as if they already belonged to her; and in fact she had already reconciled herself so effectually to her newposition, that she had almost forgotten that which was just past, and which she was ready to try and believe had never existed. She rode with the Governor, and walked with him, and smiled at his compliments, and even suffered him to embrace her, without the least display of repugnance or dislike. Not that the recollection of Henri de Courcelles had entirely ceased to trouble her. She thought of him often, but with no warmer feeling than fear. She would start, every now and then, in the midst of her occupation, to remember the threat he had made her, and to shiver under the apprehension that he might fulfil it. She would run at such times to her mother, and implore her to find out if De Courcelles had really left their service, and if he had quitted San Diego, or was lingering round Beauregard. She declared that she never could summoncourage to be married until she knew that there was no fear of her former lover way-laying her on her way to church, as he had sworn to do, and perhaps injuring or frightening her into a betrayal of the secret between them. Mrs Courtney became so anxious at last that her daughter’s mind should be set at rest, that she asked her husband to join them on the hills for a few days, thinking it would be safer to confer with him on the subject by word of mouth, than through a letter. Mr Courtney came up as soon as his business would permit him, and the first moment his wife had him to herself, she broached the distasteful subject.
‘What have you done about De Courcelles, Mr Courtney? Have you given him warning to leave us?’
‘I have, my dear, for I feel very dissatisfied concerning him. I sent for himas soon as you had left home, as I told you I should, and informed him that reports had reached me concerning himself and Maraquita that I could not pass over without comment.’
‘Oh, Mr Courtney! Ibeggedyou not to use our dear girl’s name.’
‘Well, I couldn’t tell him a lie, Nita, and I really could invent no better excuse for sending him away. So I thought honesty would be, as usual, the best policy.’
‘But what did he say to it?’ demanded Mrs Courtney breathlessly. ‘Did he deny the fact, or—or—tell any falsehoods about it?’
‘Not that I am aware of. He neither admitted nor denied the truth of my statement, but I could see from his manner that it had hit home. So I told him he could stay on the plantation onone condition only, and that was that he fulfilled his engagement with Lizzie Fellows.’
‘Iwishyou hadn’t,’ replied his wife, with a look of vexation. ‘I don’t want him to stay, under any circumstances. Things can never be the same again between us after the avowal of his impudent pretensions, and I can’t see how the matter would be improved by his marrying Lizzie Fellows. In fact, Mr Courtney, I think you should also try and provide for Lizzie elsewhere, for Quita can hardly notice her when she is Lady Johnstone, after what she has done.’
‘Nita, I don’t believe she has done anything she need be ashamed of. I have full faith in Lizzie, as I have told you before, and I will not insult her by a suspicion of wrong. However,with regard to her marrying Henri de Courcelles, you may set your mind at rest, for she has refused him.’
‘Lizzie hasrefusedto marry De Courcelles?’ exclaimed Mrs Courtney, with amazement.
‘Have I not said so? De Courcelles seemed quite ready to accede to my proposal, and I gave him a week to settle it in. Before a couple of days were over our heads, however, he came to tell me that it was of no use, and Miss Fellows had refused to have anything to do with him. I told him I couldn’t go back from my word, and that (under the circumstances) I refused to retain him on the plantation as an unmarried man, so I would pay him a quarter’s salary, and he must clear out in a week. But before I did so, I walked down to Lizzie’s bungalow, and had a veryplain conversation with her on the subject.’
Mrs Courtney’s complexion faded to a dull yellow.
‘About the nurse-child? Does she still deny that it is hers?’
‘Emphatically, and with such undeniable sincerity, that I quite believe her. I would stake my life that she has nothing to do with that child except to take care of it. She is a most injured woman, in my opinion, and I urged her, for her own sake as well as ours, to do as her father (were he living) would command her, and reveal the name of the mother of the infant.’
‘Oh, Mr Courtney, howverywrong of you to try and make Lizzie break her oath! Why, it would beperjury!’ cried Mrs Courtney, virtuously indignant, and trembling with anxiety, ‘and I wouldrather think she had fallen, than commit such a crime. Surely she was not so weak as to be persuaded to do such a thing?’
‘No; she is adamant, and her lips are closed like a vice. She refuses to say anything upon the subject, excepting to reiterate her former assertion that the child is not hers. And she told me the reason she had rejected Monsieur de Courcelles’ proposal is because he has said the same thing of her as other people.’
‘Well, of course. What can she expect?’ said his wife, looking infinitely relieved. ‘It is very hard on the poor girl, but she is bound to keep her oath; and peoplewilltalk. I have heard the coolies speaking of it in the most confident manner, as if they had not the slightest doubt that she is the baby’s mother.’
‘I’d like to hear a coolie talking of her affairs inmypresence!’ returned Mr Courtney, clenching his fist. ‘He wouldn’t talk again in a hurry. If I can’t do anything else for the daughter of my poor dead friend, I will protect her. But there was something Lizzie said that somewhat puzzled me, Nita. In speaking of De Courcelles, she used these terms,—“He, who of all others should have died before he accused me of a crime of which heknewI was guiltless.” She emphasised the word “knew” so deeply that it attracted my attention, and I asked herhowDe Courcelles shouldknowof her innocence above other people. But I could get nothing further out of her. She blushed to her eyes, poor girl, and was silent; but I was sure she felt she had gone too far. What can De Courcelles know for certain, Nita? Is itpossible he can have anything to do with this mysterious little stranger at the bungalow?’
‘Dear me, Mr Courtney, how canIanswer the question?’ exclaimed his wife pettishly. ‘I don’t see anything peculiar in Lizzie’s words. She meant, doubtless, that being her betrothed husband, he should have had more faith in her virtue; and so he should. But men judge women by themselves, and so we seldom come off scot-free. But are you going to get another overseer?Thatis the most important thing to me. I can’t think of that De Courcelles’ presumption with any patience.’
‘Yes, yes, my dear! it is all settled, and he leaves us next week. I have already engaged his successor—Mr Campbell, who used to manage the Glendinning estates before old Mr Houston died. He bearsan excellent character, and, I trust, may prove all we require. He is noted for his kindness to his coolies; and I am afraid De Courcelles has not raised the character of Beauregard in that respect.’
‘Oh, he is a wretch all round!’ cried Mrs Courtney; ‘and I shall not breathe freely till he is gone. I hope he will leave the island altogether.’
‘That I cannot tell you, for I have nothing to do with his movements after he quits the plantation. I think he is sure to do so, however, as he is not a favourite in San Diego, and would find it difficult to get another situation here. But let us talk of something more pleasant, Nita. How is our Maraquita getting on with the Governor? Is it all plain sailing?’
‘Plain sailing?’ echoed Mrs Courtney.‘What a term to apply to it. Why, they positivelyadoreeach other, my dear, and are never happy when apart. Sir Russell is onlytoocharming. He follows Quita about everywhere, and waits on her like a slave. He has given her the most exquisite diamond pendant, and an Arab horse that cost him two hundred pounds. I am longing to see our darling installed as the mistress of Government House. Sir Russell means to go over to Trinidad for the honeymoon. The Government steamer will take them on board directly after the wedding-breakfast; and they will be absent for a month. The day after they return to Government House, the marriage will be celebrated by a splendid ball. He is going to issue invitations to everybody in the island—high and low. Isn’t it noble of Sir Russell? But he says he would ask the whole world, if he could,to witness his triumph in the possession of so lovely a bride.’
‘I don’t wonder at his enthusiasm,’ exclaimed the father, ‘for he has got the loveliest girl in the British possessions! But what about her fal-lals, my dear? Can they be got ready in time?’
‘Only just enough to go on with, Mr Courtney; but Sir Russell is as impatient as a boy of twenty, and refuses to wait a day over the month. I have sent my orders to England, as you desired me; but, of course, they can’t be here in time. The wedding-dress I can luckily supply. Perhaps you have forgotten the exquisite dress of Honiton lace you gave me when the dear child was born. I am having it made up over white satin; and she could wear nothing, Sir Russell says, more elegant or appropriate. As the happy event is taking place in the hot season, Maraquitacan wear nothing but white muslin and lace, which I shall have no trouble in procuring for her; and by the time the rainy season sets in, her dresses will have arrived from England. Really, Mr Courtney, it seems as if the fates smiled upon her, for nothing could be more fortunate than everything has turned out.’
The planter acquiesced in his wife’s opinion, and the few days he spent on the hills confirmed it as his own. No two people could appear to be happier than Quita and herfiancé. She suffered herself to be loved, and caressed, and petted to any extent; and Sir Russell was always ready to gratify her. Her proud father thought she looked lovelier than ever, under the consciousness of her coming honours, and went back to Beauregard fully satisfied that she was the most fortunate girl in the world. But as thetime passed on, and the moment drew near when the mother and daughter must also quit the hills, Quita’s agitation became very apparent.
‘Mamma,’ she would say, in a horrified whisper, clinging fast to her mother’s hand, ‘are you quite,quitesurehehas left Beauregard?’
‘Quite sure, my dearest. Your father sent him away a fortnight ago, and Mr Campbell, the new overseer, is living at the Oleander Bungalow in his stead.’
‘But might he not be hiding somewhere near? At Shanty Hill, or in the Miners’ Gulch? There are public-houses in both those places.’
‘Quita, my child, you must get over this foolish fear. In the first place, your father is quite convinced that De Courcelles has left San Diego, as there is novacant situation in the island for which he could apply; and in the second, even if he were in the neighbourhood he would not dare to speak to you, far less to try and injure you.’
‘Ah, mamma, you don’t know Henri! You should have seen his eyes when he said he would stab me at the altar. He is terrible when he is in a rage. And I feel convinced he will keep his word. He will hang about Beauregard till my wedding-day, and then he will hide in the church and shoot me, and I shall die in my wedding-dress, bespattered with blood!’ replied Quita, relapsing into tears at the awful picture she had conjured up in her imagination.
‘Quita, you will make yourself ill if you go on like this!’ said Mrs Courtney, with grave solicitude. ‘You are really too silly to be reasoned with. Doyou forget you are going to be the Governor’s wife? You are not going to marry a nobody, but a man high in position and power, and no one will dare to assail you either by word or deed. The church in which you are married will be lined with the military; and if you are nervous, Sir Russell will have a special guard of honour to protect you. But don’t lethimguess at any of your nervous fears, for Heaven’s sake, or he may get curious to learn the cause of them. Rely on me, Quita, that all will be well.’
‘But there is another thing, mamma,’ said the girl, after a pause. ‘I am horribly afraid that old Jessica knows too much. One night when—when—I had been at the bungalow, I found her awake and watching for my return. And twoor three times she has muttered hints that I could not misunderstand.’
‘Oh, Quita, Quita, what trouble you have got yourself into. It seems as if we should never surmount the difficulties in our path. I shall know no peace until you are Lady Johnstone.’
‘Nor I either, mamma! But can’t we send Jessica away too? I don’t intend to take her to Government House, and you will have no use for her when I am gone.’
‘My dear, I am afraid it would be dangerous to dismiss her. She would guess the reason, and these negroes are very revengeful. They will serve you to the death, so long as you make them your friends; but once turn round on them, and their malice knows no bounds. Jessica has been with you since your birth, and to send her adrift just as youare going to be married, would be to set her tongue going like a mill-wheel. No, Quita, you must pursue a more politic course! I think we made a mistake in not bringing Jessica up to the hills with us. Had I known what you tell me now, I would not have consented to her being left behind; but you must take her some presents when we return, and do all in your power to conciliate her. Don’t encourage any familiarity, nor appear to understand any hints she may give you, but keep her in a good temper, my dear child, until after the fourteenth, whatever you do.’
Acting on her mother’s advice, Maraquita took a gaily-coloured shawl and a necklace of gilt beads to Jessica when she returned to the White House, and made the old nurse’s heart repent that she had been led into repeating anyscandal about her missy. But the departure of the overseer was too important an event to be passed over in silence, and Maraquita was doomed to hear a repetition of what was thought concerning it in the coolie quarters.
‘Missy seen de new oberseer?’ Jessica commenced, the first moment they were left alone. ‘He berry fine man,—broader den Massa Courcelles, and plenty more colour in face; nice hair too—same colour as de carrots—and a soft voice, kinder like a woman’s.’
‘No, Jessica, I haven’t seen him yet; but papa has asked him to dine with us this evening.’
‘Ah, Missy won’t like him same as Massa Courcelles, for sure,—but Massa Campbell good man for all dat, and Massa Courcelles berry bad man—all de niggers dance when he go ’way, andJerusha she throw mud after him, and frighten his horse so he stand right up on his two legs.’
‘Was he hurt?’ cried Quita suddenly.
However frivolous a woman may be, she cannot quite lose all interest, at a moment’s notice, in the man she has loved.
‘Oh, no, missy! Massa Courcelles same like part of horse. He nebber thrown; only, he swear and curse plenty at Jerusha.’
‘WhoisJerusha?’ asked Quita, betrayed by curiosity into forgetting her studied reticence; ‘and why should she throw dirt at Monsieur de Courcelles?’
‘Ah, missy not knowing. Jerusha only a poor coolie, but all de niggers would throw dirt at Massa Courcelles if they dared. But he been berry bad man to poor Jerusha—same as he been tomy missy,’ added Jessica, in a lower tone.
Maraquita turned deathly white.
‘How has he hurt Jerusha?’ she asked, in spite of herself.
‘He’s left her with a baby, Missy Quita—a nice baby, too, most as white as himself, with his eyes and hair; but Jerusha feel bad about it, ’cause he’s treated her berry cruel, and whipt them both with de cowhide.’
Maraquita turned her head aside, and burst into tears. She would have given worlds that the old nurse should not have witnessed her emotion, but she could not restrain it. How true it is that the love of most women is founded on vanity, and that even if they do not want a man themselves, they cannot bear that any one else should have him. Besides, this degradingliaisonwith acoolie girl had taken place at the very time that Henri de Courcelles had been swearing eternal love to herself. Quita did indeed feel at that moment that she had parted with a woman’s best possession for nothing. She had never been so terribly humiliated before. Jessica was not slow to take advantage of her young mistress’s weakness.
‘Don’t cry, missy,’ she said; ‘dat man not worth one tear from my missy’s bright eyes. He false and cruel, and got bad heart. Missy forget all about dis trouble when she marry de Governor. And Missy Liz will keep de secret, nebber fear, and old Jessica too. Nobody tell nuffin, de Governor nebber know, and den eberyting go right.’
But this allusion roused the instinctive fear in Maraquita’s bosom. She forgot her mother’s caution, and the folly ofresenting the old nurse’s hints. She forgot everything, except the awful fear of exposure, and in her alarm she played her worst card, and turned round upon Jessica like a fury.
‘What do you mean by speaking to me like that?’ she panted. ‘Howdareyou pretend to think that I cried because I was in trouble for any one but the poor coolie girl? I know I am a fool to feel such things. Any one is a fool who wastes a tear on you coloured people, for you are all false, and mischief-making, and scandalous; but it is too bad that you should speak as though I were crying for myself. What trouble could I be in? I have everything I want, and in a few days I shall marry the Governor, and none of you will dare to say a word against me; and if you do, Sir Russell will have you whipped, and put in prison,and you may lie and die there, for aught I care.’
It was a foolish and childish rage in which she indulged, but Quita was not much raised above the coloured people she professed to scorn, either in intellect or education. Yet it was sufficient to excite the desire for revenge in the object of her wrath.
‘Missy have me whipped and put in prison?’ she shrieked; ‘me—who hab nursed her in my bosom, ever since she was a tiny baby? Oh, no, Missy Quita, you nebber mean dat! I will tell Massa Courtney, and de Governor, eberyting before dat. I tell dem all I know. I clare de character of poor Missy Liz, down at de Doctor’s bungalow, and I tellwhosechild dat is what she nurse day and night.’
‘Oh, Jessica!’ cried Maraquita, frightenedbeyond expression, as she threw herself on her knees before the old negress, ‘don’t say that. I was beside myself. I didn’t stop to weigh my words. I know you are good and faithful, and will be true to me, and keep my terrible secret, for you wouldn’t ruin your poor little missy who loves you; would you, Jessica?’
But the old negress was not to be so easily conciliated. She looked very surly, even whilst Maraquita’s white arms were wreathed about her withered neck.
‘Missy Quita, you berry ungrateful gal,’ she murmured presently. ‘How many nights I sit up and watch and wait, while you flirting wid dat overseer, fear your moder or some one come and find you out? Den when you taken bad, ole Jess know your trouble all de time, and nebber speak one word. But now you goingto be grand rich lady, you want to kick old Jessica out, and forget all she done for you. But I won’t be kicked out, Missy Quita. You must take me to Government House, and give me good wages, or I won’t keep your secret any longer; and it isn’t no good saying I’m ungrateful, missy, ’cause you were ungrateful first, and you knows it.’
Maraquita saw the terrible mistake she had made, when it was too late. Why had she not remembered her mother’s advice to conciliate the old negress until the marriage was an accomplished fact?Then, Mrs Courtney would have devised some plan to keep her quiet. But now there was but one course open to her,—to promise to give Jessica everything she demanded, however unreasonable.
‘Why, of course, Nursey,’ she answered, with assumed playfulness. ‘Did you think I was going to leave my old darkey behind? What should I do without you? You shall come to Government House as soon as I am settled there, and dress me in the mornings, as you have always been used to do; and perhaps some day you may nurse my little children as you nursed me. Will that content you, Jessica?’ she added, with trembling lips that ill-concealed her anxiety.
‘And missy will raise my wages?’ demanded the negress; ‘Governor’s lady give better wages than planter’s daughter, and I hab worked for eighteen long years in your service, Missy Quita.’
‘Yes, yes! You shall have any wages you like, Jessica. I shall tell Sir Russellwhat a good servant you have been to me, and he will be proud to reward you. But perhaps you would rather have a pension,’ said Quita wistfully, ‘or a lump sum of money, that will enable you to go back to your own country, and live there.’
‘No, missy; I rather live and die with you. You seem like my own child to me, and San Diego like my country. I no want go way; and if missy good to me, I keep her secrets always, and no one shall hear ole Jess tell de truth about her.’
Maraquita felt this was only a compromise, but she had no alternative but to accept it. There was a hard, stony look in old Jessica’s eyes that alarmed her, and made her doubt her promises of fidelity. She was not slow to perceive, either, the mercenary motive ofher demand for higher wages, but she could not afford to comment on it. She had put herself in the power of another woman—the most terrible bondage the sex is ever subjected to—and she saw no way to loosen her chains, except by perfect acquiescence. But she loathed the old negress, even while she forced herself to caress her. The affection of her whole life seemed to have faded beneath the ordeal to which it had been subjected. Jessica was no longer the kind and faithful nurse who had tended her from her infancy, and to whom she had run in every dilemma, but a hard and grasping creditor, who had possession of that which might ruin her life, and demanded her very blood in ransom. However, there seemed no way but one out of the scrape, and so Maraquita promised to do all and everythingthat the negress might require, and tried to soothe her ruffled feelings with soft words and caresses.
But she did not feel sure that she had succeeded, even though Jessica paid her some honied compliments in return, and lay down in her bed that night longing more than ever that the wedding-day had come and gone.
All went smoothly, however. No one saw or heard anything further of Henri de Courcelles, nor was Quita even annoyed by the mention of his name. He seemed to have totally disappeared from Beauregard, and Mr Courtney fully believed that he had left the island. The old nurse made no further disagreeable allusions to the past, and appeared to be as devoted to her young mistress as she had ever been, so that Maraquitaregained her lightness of heart, and turned her attention entirely to the brilliant prospects before her. The fourteenth was close at hand, and the preparations for the Governor’s wedding, which was to take place in the Fort church, were on a scale of magnificence never before attempted in San Diego. The church was to be embowered in flowers; the military were to line the road leading to it; half the gentry in the island were to be engaged in singing a choral service; and a splendid barouche, drawn by four horses, and preceded by a guard of honour, was to convey the newly-married couple back to Beauregard.
Here, naturally, all were in a flutter. Mrs Courtney, never a good housekeeper, was nearly out of her mind over the wedding-breakfast and the completion ofMaraquita’s dress, and was thankful to delegate the issuing of the invitations to her husband and her daughter. Mr Courtney made out the list of names, whilst Maraquita wrote the invitations in a very irregular hand on gold-edged paper. Half-way down the list she came upon the name of Miss Fellows.
‘Lizzie?’ she exclaimed, with rather rashly expressed astonishment.
‘Of course! why not?’ returned her father quickly.
‘Well, because, althoughwedon’t believe the reports about her, papa,otherpeople do, and some of the ladies of San Diego might object to meet her.’
Mr Courtney consigned the ladies of San Diego to a warmer region, but held to his determination.
‘There shall be no festivity held in my house to which Lizzie Fellows is not invited,’ he answered sternly; ‘and the fact that she is still welcomed here, will be the best denial of these infamous calumnies against her. I should be ashamed of you, my daughter, if you consented to her name being omitted from our guests. The poor girl has suffered enough from the death of her father, and the rascality of that scoundrel De Courcelles, to say nothing of these cruel rumours, without our turning our backs upon her.’
The mention of De Courcelles’ name was enough to stop Maraquita’s tongue, and she wrote the invitation without further comment. Only, as both she and her mother anticipated, Lizzie’s reply was in the negative. She made her recent loss the excuse for not joiningin any gaiety; but Maraquita and Mrs Courtney knew that after the insults they had hurled at her, she would never place her foot voluntarily again within the walls of the White House.
END OF VOL. II.
COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.