CHAPTER IV.
L
LIZZIE had guessed correctly when she said that Maraquita’s infidelity would prove its own punishment. The honeymoon at Santa Lucia was not a very satisfactory one, at least for the bride. So long as the day endured, and Quita’s frivolous soul could be gorged on flattery, and the servile congratulations paid her by her husband’s guests, she was contented with her lot, and disposed to believe it would turn out all she had prognosticated for herself. To feel shewas the woman of most importance in the island, and that she had horses and carriages, and servants at her command, and that a military guard accompanied her wherever she went, and everybody turned to gaze after her, and said to one another, ‘There goes the Governor’s bride,’ was quite sufficient to inflate her foolish little heart with pride, and make her forget, for the time being, the penalty attached to it all. But one cannot pass one’s entire life in public, and when the hours of domestic happiness arrived, they were very trying.Then, if she had had a handsome young husband suited to herself in age and disposition waiting on her every look and smile while he whispered words of love in her ear, how delighted would Maraquita have been to fly to the sacred recesses of her own apartments,and shut the world and its hollow compliments outside. But now such moments became torture. Sir Russell had been sufficiently trying as a lover, but as a husband he became simply unendurable. His middle-aged ecstasies over his new possession, his fussy attentions, his twaddling conversation about things and people of which she had never heard, soon bored his young wife to extinction. And he was not slow to find out that he did not interest her. He noted the vacant look, the wandering attention, the deep sighs that occasionally interrupted their intercourse, and commenced to feel the first twinges of jealousy, and to wonder if there had been any other admirer in the background whom Lady Johnstone had not entirely forgotten.
If he could only have read herthoughts as she sat by his side when they were alone together, or lay for hours during the silent watches of the night gazing open-eyed at the dark blue heaven with its myriad clusters of stars, how unpleasantly satisfied he would have been. It was at those times that the newly-made Lady Johnstone’s thoughts returned to the past which she had so pertinaciously thrust from her, and that she longed (with the contradiction of human nature) to be able to take back again to her heart the fate which she had held in her hand, without the moral courage to grasp it. It was then that the glorious dark eyes of Henri de Courcelles seemed to gaze into her own like twin stars, just as they used to look at those heavenly moments when they sat together on the bench in the Oleander Thicket,and her lover’s arms were folded closely round her, as though to shield her from all harm.
Henri de Courcelles had innumerable faults, but he had loved this girl with all his heart, and, now that it was too late, Maraquita seemed to realise it for the first time. There was another regret, too, that intruded itself into her married life, a regret that seemed to grow with the days, and assume such inconceivable proportions that she was tempted to cry out that she could bear it no longer, but must at all risks rush back to San Diego and seeher child. Sometimes the unhappy young mother would dream that the infant was dying, and wake up with the tears upon her cheek; sometimes that it really belonged to Lizzie, and she had lost the right to call it hers; and sometimes that sheheld it to her heart, and was proud and fond of it like other mothers, until she discovered it was a poisonous asp, stinging the bosom on which it lay. Such thoughts and dreams were not good for the young bride to indulge in, and she grew paler and thinner every day. Sir Russell called in a doctor, who declared Lady Johnstone’s condition to be due to weakness, consequent on her late attack of fever, and advised her immediate return to San Diego, as possessing a higher and more bracing air than Santa Lucia. Sir Russell sought his wife’s rooms, all fuss and anxiety on account of her low spirits, and communicated the medical man’s opinion to her. They had been married now for three weeks, and the Governor had already come to the conclusion that a domestic life was not all roses. Hefound his beautiful Maraquita rather petulant at times, and disposed to have her own way. She was not very affectionate either, and flouted his attempts at love-making in a manner sufficient to cure the most ardent lover. He was disappointed certainly; he had imagined women were more open to their husbands’ advances; but, after all, he knew very little about the sex, and was quite ready, as yet, to lay the failure at his own door. He was not fit, he told himself, to be the companion of such an innocent, guileless creature; she felt the difference between his society and that she had left behind her. The position was new and strange to her. She would be her own sweet self again when they returned to San Diego and she was restored to her parents’ arms. Thealacrity with which Maraquita assented to his proposal to go home, confirmed his sentiments upon the subject. It would have been somewhat of a shock to him could he have read her thoughts on the occasion; but how few of us could afford to read the mind of our dearest friend, without fear. Maraquita’s face glowed, and her heart beat faster, as she pictured herself settled at Government House. She would have a chance then of seeing Lizzie again—perhaps of seeing Henri de Courcelles. Whilst it lay in his power to deprive her of her promised dignity, she had dreaded his presence, and hoped he was far away from San Diego; but now that her position as Lady Johnstone was secure, and no one could dethrone her, she began to crave for the excitement of seeing her lover again. Weak andvacillating as she had been as Maraquita Courtney, she was even worse as Lady Johnstone, for now her weakness threatened to become a crime. Her depression of spirits and her feverish anxiety were so patent, that the first time Mrs Courtney was alone with her daughter, she taxed her with the change.
‘Whatever is the matter with you, my dear child?’ she exclaimed; ‘you don’t seem half so happy as I expected to see you. Here you are, the Governor’s wife, and the lady of highest rank in San Diego, and yet you seem quite melancholy. You don’t mean to tell me that you are disappointed, or that your marriage has not proved all you expected it to be?’
‘Oh, no, mamma! I suppose it’s all right! I’ve got the position and themoney, and no one can have been such a fool as to think I married a bald-headed stupid old man like Sir Russell for anything else.’
Mrs Courtney lifted her hands and eyebrows in surprise.
‘My dear! my dear! remember he’s the Governor!’
‘How can I forget it? Isn’t it dinned into my ears from sunrise to sunset! Of course he’s the Governor! I am sure he need be, for he’s very little else! But I’m afraid that fact is not sufficient for one’s happiness.’
‘My darling, what more can you possibly want? A splendid house, and number of servants, equipages, and horses, jewels, dresses, ornaments, and the whole island at your feet! Why, I think you are the luckiest girl I ever heard of.’
But her eloquence was interrupted by Maraquita flinging herself headlong on a couch, and sobbing out,—
‘I’m not! I’m not! I’m as unhappy as I can be! I wish I had never consented to give up my poor Henri! I dream of him every night!’
But at that confession, her mother’s attempt at consolation changed to righteous scorn.
‘Then you must be the wickedest girl alive, Maraquita! Dreaming of any man but your husband, and not married a month yet! You ought to be ashamed to mention such a thing, even to your mother! And that wretched low-born overseer too—a half-caste Spaniard, with neither birth nor money. I am utterly surprised at you!’
‘Mamma, you sha’n’t abuse him! He may be everything you say, but he’sgloriously handsome; and he loved me, and I ought to have married him! Why didn’t you manage it some way? You knew all about us, and you could have persuaded papa to settle something on him, and let us live with you at Beauregard, and then it would have been all right, and I should have been much happier there with him and my poor little baby—’
‘Maraquita! are youmad?’ cried her mother, clapping her hand before her daughter’s mouth; ‘or do you want every official in Government House to hear your shameful secret? Good heavens, it is enough to make me regret I ever interfered to save you from your own folly! If you confess the truth now, you will make matters a thousand times worse than if you had made the low marriage you seem to hanker after. It would be a nicescandal for the island, to hear that the Governor had repudiated you on account of your former light conduct!Thenyou would lose everything—reputation, position, and wealth, and gain nothing in exchange.’
‘I could go to Henri,’ said Maraquita doggedly, for she possessed one of those persistent natures that can work themselves up into a belief, and she was working herself up to believe that she was still passionately in love with De Courcelles, and ready to sacrifice everything for him.
‘That you certainly could not,’ returned Mrs Courtney, determined to cut her folly in the bud, ‘for he is not in San Diego.’
‘Where is he then?’ exclaimed Quita, raising herself from the sofa cushion.
‘He has gone to America,’ repliedher mother, ignoring her regard for truth so long as she drove this nonsense out of Maraquita’s mind.
‘To America!’ repeated the girl. ‘Oh, why did he go there? What is he going to do?’
‘That is his business, not ours; but I believe his family live in the States. However, he will never return to San Diego, and so you see how little you will gain, and how much you may lose, by indulging in this sentimental folly. Indeed, I cannot understand you, Quita! Your one desire last month was to hear that this most objectionable young man had left the island, and now you are moaning after him as if he had been your dearest friend instead of your worst enemy.’
‘He loved me!’ sobbed Maraquita.
‘I don’t think hedidlove you,’ rejoinedMrs Courtney. ‘No man who loved you would have treated you in so dishonourable a manner. However, he has been ready enough to run away from you, and now the best thing you can do is to forget all about him. Indeed, you mustcompelyourself to do so, my dear. You owe it not only to your husband, but to your father and mother. And just think what a wicked thing you are doing too—crying after another man when you are Sir Russell’s wife. You horrify and grieve me beyond measure!’
Yes, Mrs Courtney was perfectly right!
It was both weak and wicked of Lady Johnstone to let old memories obtrude themselves upon her wedded life, but she had been far weaker and wickeder when she gave them up against her inclination. An eligible marriage is no curefor an ill-placed love, and the laws neither of God nor man have any power to quench passion in the human heart. They may help the victim to keep it under, but it is the one feeling that refuses to be silent until it has died a natural death. Whilst poor faulty Maraquita believed that Henri de Courcelles was lying in ambush somewhere ready to appear before her at any moment, holding the pledge of their love in his arms, as he did upon her wedding-day, she had had a great fear mingled with her insane desire to see him again; but now that her mother assured her he had left San Diego for ever, and she should never be able to ask his forgiveness, her dread of him vanished, to give place to a morbid regret. She wept so much and ate so little during the first days of her installation at Government House, thatMrs Courtney (who had been invited by Sir Russell to stay with her daughter) became quite seriously alarmed for the consequences of her grief, and tried all she could to rouse her by a description of the splendid preparations which were being made for the ball to be given in honour of their return.
‘My dear girl, I never saw anything like it! Sir Russell is certainly the most generous of men, and the whole island is talking of him. He has given acarte blancheorder for all the white flowers procurable, and the ballroom will be decorated with nothing else. It will look like a huge bridal bouquet.’
‘Or a funeral shroud,’ suggested Quita, with a disagreeable laugh.
‘My darling! what a strange thing to say. We won’t have ittoowhite, if you have such unpleasant comparisons tomake. I will suggest to Sir Russell to have the wreaths tied with blue ribbons; or pink roses interspersed with the white ones, would look very pretty.’
‘I’m sure I shouldn’t take the trouble, if I were you, mamma! Let him have his own way. What does it signify what it looks like?’
‘I think it signifies a great deal,’ returned Mrs Courtney warmly; ‘and when I come to consider the matter, white will not set off the dresses as a little colour would do. For most of the ladies will be in white; and you will wear your wedding-dress, of course, Maraquita.’
‘I suppose so, mamma.’
‘You will have to open the ball with Colonel Symonds, being the next gentleman in rank to the Governor on the island, and Sir Russell must lead outMrs Symonds. It will be a magnificent sight, with all the officers in full uniform, and the military bands in the orchestra. The supper-tables are to be laid for three hundred, though I don’t know where they are all to come from; but Sir Russell issogenerous. It will be the proudest day of my life—next to your wedding-day, Maraquita.’
‘I shall be very glad if you enjoy it, mamma.’
‘Come, come, my dear girl, I won’t have you speak of it in that uninterested tone, as if you were an old woman of eighty, past all thoughts of dancing and admiration. Why, there’s not a girl in the island that dances better than you do, Quita; and think how every eye will be fixed upon you, and how the women will envy your dress and your beautiful jewels, and wish they had your luck.Why, there’s not a girl in San Diego but would give her eyes to stand in your shoes.’
‘I daresay! but they pinch sometimes,’ said Quita, with a yawn.
‘My darling, all wives’ shoes pinch sometimes,’ replied her mother. ‘Marriage is not a bed of roses, any more than any other condition. But it is necessary to a woman’s well-doing, and you have drawn a splendid prize in the matrimonial lottery. And now what time will your ladyship please to drive this afternoon?’
Quita smiled. She liked to be called ‘your ladyship.’ If there was one thing above another that reconciled her to the step she had taken, it was to hear herself addressed by that much-coveted title. What children most women are, after all, and how easily caught with glittering baubles. Jewels and a title make up the sum totalof domestic happiness for the majority of the sex. Maraquita believed herself to be wretched for the loss of Henri de Courcelles, but had she been put to the test, she would not have given up her newly-acquired dignity, nor one of her sets of ornaments, to bring him to her feet again. She would sit for hours with her jewel cases in her lap, fingering the bracelets, and rings, and necklaces that Sir Russell had given her, and holding up the blood-red rubies, and the grass-green emeralds, and the deep blue sapphires, and the pure white diamonds to the light, laughing to see them catch the sun’s rays, and shoot out a thousand little stars of fire to meet them. And as the day for the grand ball drew near, she seemed to recover her cheerfulness. Mrs Courtney was delighted to see the interest she suddenly evinced about her dress, and the ornaments shewas to wear with it, and the manner in which she should arrange her hair; and when the evening arrived, she was as flushed with excitement, and as eager for the festivities to be a success, as any one could have wished to see her. It was a proud moment for Mr and Mrs Courtney when they stood by the side of the dais which had been erected for the convenience of the newly-married pair to receive their numerous guests. Sir Russell, in his Governor’s uniform, looked imposing if not handsome; and Maraquita, arrayed in her wedding garments, stood by his side like a dainty fairy. All San Diego—that is, all the respectable portion of it—passed before them in single file, to offer their congratulations before the ball commenced, and there was but one opinion of the appearance of the bride—that she was the handsomest woman on the island. Mr and Mrs Courtneyswelled with pride as they overheard the various comments on her appearance, and felt rewarded at last for all the trouble and anxiety their wayward daughter had given them. The ballroom at Government House was a long apartment, with five or six windows on either side, all open on account of the heat. The spaces between these windows were hidden with trophies of flags, and flowers, so that it looked like a vast bower of leaves and blossoms, open at intervals to the outer air. Six large chandeliers pendant from the ceiling, and laden with wax candles, made the ballroom a blaze of light, and rendered it a conspicuous object from the outside. That the poorer part of the population should not consider themselves entirely shut out from the wedding festivities, Sir Russell had ordered a handsome display of fireworks to be sentup from the Fort at ten o’clock, and hundreds of coloured people were waiting around, in anticipation of the display. The supper, which had taken many days to prepare, was laid in another room on the same floor, on a series of tables, which were glittering with knives, and forks, and glass, and silver; and everything promised to go as merrily as the proverbial marriage bell. As soon as they had received their guests, Sir Russell and Lady Johnstone opened the ball with the two people of highest rank present, and dancing became general.
Maraquita, who was passionately fond of the exercise, did not miss a single turn. Her card was naturally soon filled up, for every man present tried to secure a waltz with the bride, and she flew all over the room like a beautiful Bacchante, flushed and smiling, whilst her parentslooked on with admiring complacency, and one at least thanked Heaven secretly that the threatened danger was at an end, and her child had begun at last to properly appreciate the benefits of her high position. The evening had waxed towards midnight, and though the dancers gave no signs of fatigue, Sir Russell had just made his way towards Mr and Mrs Courtney to consult them whether it would not be wise to give the signal for supper, when a loud cry of alarm and sounds of confusion were heard to proceed from the apartment where it was laid. Sir Russell turned pale. He had heard something of the sort before, and guessed its import; but he had no time to communicate his fears to his friends, when a crowd of natives rushed into the room, armed with pistols and knives, and every open window was simultaneously blocked withdusky faces, ready to bar all egress, or to leap inside at a moment’s notice. The band stopped playing at once—the dancers screamed with alarm—all the men felt their hearts stop, and many of the women fainted without warning. But Sir Russell was English bred, and rose to the occasion at once. He looked almost majestic as he met the oncoming horde of mutineers with an uplifted hand, as though he challenged them to advance one step further, and demanded in a voice of thunder what they required in his private apartments.
‘Your life!’ shrieked one of the mob, ‘and de lives ob all dese d—d white trash. And we’ll hab them too! On wid you, darkies! Cut ’em down like de dogs what dey are.’
‘I’ll shoot the first man who tries to pass me!’ shouted Sir Russell, as hedrew a revolver from his pocket; and then turning to his father-in-law, he exclaimed quickly,—‘Mrs Courtney—Maraquita, get them away, for God’s sake!’
Maraquita had already flown to her parents for protection, and was clinging to her mother in an agony of tears.
‘Mamma! mamma! what will they do to us? Oh, we shall all be killed! Why did I ever leave Beauregard!’
‘Hush! hush! my darling! it will be all right. There must be some mistake,’ replied her mother, although she was shaking so violently that she could hardly stand.
But if it was a mistake, it was a very terrible one, for the next moment the sound of several shots, and a piercing scream, proved that the rebels had already commenced their murderous work.
‘This way, Nita,’ said Mr Courtney hurriedly, pushing his wife and daughter before him. ‘Keep close to the wall, and escape by the door into the library. It is your best chance.’
But before they had gone many paces, elbowing their way frantically through the crowd that pressed on them from every side, the dark faces that had guarded the open windows perceived their means of exit, and with a cry of fiendish delight, leapt into the room to prevent it.
‘We are lost!’ cried Mrs Courtney. ‘Oh, Mr Courtney, in Heaven’s name, what are we to do?’
‘Stand before Quita. Conceal her at all risks, and I will help you,’ replied the father, as he ranged himself by the side of his trembling wife, and in front of his daughter; and then he whispered,‘Have no fear, Nita; they can have no object in woundingus. Their malice is against Sir Russell and our poor child. Spread your skirts over her, for Heaven’s sake.’
Meanwhile the slaughter became general. The rebels rushed hither and thither in search of Maraquita, wounding or killing every girl they thought to be the bride, with, in most instances, the men who resented the murder, until the ballroom reeked with blood, and the screams of the unhappy victims were appalling. But the alarm had been given at once, and in a few minutes the opposition shots of the military forces were heard, and scores of the rebels bit the dust, whilst many more were taken prisoners. Amongst the latter was a young and handsome Spanish half-caste, whose dark eyes were on fire with thelust for revenge, but who made no effort to free himself from his captors.
‘The danger is past! Thank God that you are both safe!’ exclaimed Mr Courtney, as he turned to embrace his wife and daughter.
Sir Russell had been wounded in the wrist by a slash from one of his own dinner knives; but the Fort physician had bound it up, and, now that the first alarm was over, he was able to go in search of his bride.
‘Maraquita, my dearest!’ he exclaimed fervently, as he saw the pale little figure which Mr Courtney was supporting, ‘this is a terrible affair, but, thank God, the brutes have not injured you, nor your parents! You must come away from here at once, my love. Take her, Mr Courtney, I beg of you, to her own apartments. This is no sight for her.’
Quita closed her eyes, and shuddered as her glance fell on the prostrate corpses, both black and white, that lay on the ballroom floor, and heard the moans of those to whom the surgeon was already attending; and she was quite willing to go away with her parents, and try and forget the terrible business in sleep.
‘Yes, yes,’ she murmured, clinging to her father; ‘take me away at once, papa—I cannot bear it.’
But when she had advanced a few paces into the room, her eyes opened again from sheer horror, and fell on a sight which paralysed her. There, standing before her, though held back by the pinioning arms of his captors, was Henri de Courcelles, whom she believed to be in America, with such hatred and fury in his glance as she had never seen before.
‘Henri!’ she shrieked involuntarily, before she could prevent herself.
‘So you haveescaped!—curse you?’ he answered, glaring at her like a fiend. ‘Then what am I doing here? I must be free, to live to avenge myself on you.’ And without another word, and a sudden effort that took the men who held him completely by surprise, Henri de Courcelles wrenched himself away, and rushed to the open window, leapt into the darkness and was gone.
‘He must have killed himself!’ exclaimed one of the soldiers, looking out upon the night. ‘There is a fall here of about twenty feet.’
‘Order the guard round to take him prisoner!’ shouted Sir Russell. ‘The wall beneath the window is sixteen feet high. They will take him like arat in a trap. And if not, tell them to shoot him like a dog.’
‘No, no!’ cried Maraquita wildly. ‘Theymustnot—theyshallnot—he—he—’
But there she fainted, and fell in a heap at her husband’s feet.
‘He is the ringleader of the whole mutiny,—the greatest rascal of them all! What can she know of him?’ demanded Sir Russell, with a frown.
‘Nothing; she never saw him before,’ replied Mrs Courtney boldly, though she was shaking with fear lest Maraquita should betray herself.
‘But she called him “Henri.” I heard her,’ said the Governor.
‘He was a servant on Beauregard once, Sir Russell. I forgot that when I said Maraquita had never seen him. But really this terrible business hasshaken me so that I don’t know what I’m saying. But my poor darling must be carried to her room. She is not fit to walk. I hope this shocking affair may not unsettle her reason.’
‘It seems as if it had done so already, when one hears her pleading for the life of a murderer,’ said Sir Russell, as he assisted Mrs Courtney to carry the unconscious girl to her own apartments. ‘And now, Mrs Courtney, I will leave my wife in your charge. This is a very serious matter, and may necessitate my sitting up all night. The rebellion is quelled for the moment, but I must not rest until measures have been taken to prevent its recurrence. My guests murdered before my very eyes! It is incredible that such a thing should happen in Her Majesty’s dominions. And we must crush the mutiny, if westring them all up to the Fort gates. And this ringleader, this old servant (as you say) of yours, shall be the first to suffer. I will give him lynch law as soon as ever the dawn rises. I will teach him what the penalty is of addressing the Governor’s wife as he has dared to do.’
And with this threat upon his lips, Sir Russell stalked gloomily away.