Ruth descended the hill with firm, sure steps for she was strong in body as well as in spirit; she had reached the gate of the little cemetery before the impulse that had prompted her action had had time to lose any of its power, but, as she opened the gate and realized the lateness of the hour, her natural caution led her to pause for a second and take in her surroundings; she at once became conscious of the sound of a low, sobbing voice saying:
"Dear God, I came here all alone hoping that You would forgive him for the crime that he committed if I came to you in secret beside the grave of him whose life he took ... the sin is lying heavily upon his soul and I wish to lift it from him by sacrificing my own peace of mind so that it may be bestowed upon him, for he suffers grievously from his wound, dear God, he suffers very grievously.... I pray that You will put the sorrow for his crime upon me instead of him so that I may help him, for he is greatly in need of more help than I can give him, being but a simple-minded, feeble, little peasant and unfit to carry this heavy load."
The supplication ended in a rush of sobs that shook the inner consciousness of her who listened to them, for Ruth was tender-hearted above all her other instincts; she advanced into the little cemetery, then, with far different feelings than the ones that brought her there.
The sounds that she had heard came from the same direction she had meant to take to reach the grave of Victorio Colenzo, so she proceeded along the little path that she had followed, in secret, more than once before, for, with Estrella in her home, she could not visit the last resting-place of the body of the man whom she had loved as very young and innocent women will, often, love a creature all unworthy of such affection, except surreptitiously; so that it was easy for her to wind among the simple little head-stones until she came to the grave she sought.
The form her eyes could just discern beside the tomb was small and slight and cowering down as if, indeed, in earnest supplication; Ruth advanced until she was standing very near the silent woman and, not wishing to startle and confuse her by a sudden word, she very gently touched her bowed head; instantly, the girl sprang up in wild alarm, for it had taken all her courage to come there at all; Ruth reassured her as quickly as she could by saying, softly:
"Do not fear, whoever you may be; I am but another woman like yourself and I wish to help you no matter what it is that is so troubling you; we women should assist each other in this world, for women, as it seems to me, were put into the world to suffer, mainly, so we ought to try to help each other. Tell me what there is that I can do to help you, now."
Tessa, for the reader has, no doubt, guessed that it was she, began to sob wildly and clung to the other woman who had come to her so strangely; she could not speak, at first, for crying, and, then, she could not speak for fear of injuring the man she loved, and, so, she did not speak at all, but ran away without one word of explanation, thinking in that way she might avoid discovery.
But the incident had shaken Ruth so that the memory of the man whose body lay within that narrow grave grew dim and far away; she knew that he had been unworthy of her love and must have scouted it in secret many times, for, if he had not done so, how could he have made such love to poor Estrella as he had while she, his lawful wife, yet lived upon the earth? Ruth Wakefield had often said that truth was truth no matter where it fell ... she'd even said that she would blame herself when blame was hers to bear, and, so, she could not shield the memory of the newly dead too far, and, so, she turned away from that low grave and never went there again, and, as she slowly climbed the hill that led her to her own loved home, Estrella overtook her in the path and, hand in hand with her who had been wronged as she, herself, had been, she left the memory of the handsome, gay deceiver lying there within the narrow grave that hid his fast decaying body from the world of living men and women; from that time, she did not suffer, in thinking of him, as she had before; there are turning points in every road no matter where it leads to, and this was a turn for Ruth in that sad road where she had strayed, but only for a short and most unhappy, if, at moments, wildly joyous, time.
When Tessa left the grave of Victorio Colenzo, she fled in haste and fright; she did not go at once to her own home for she feared that she might be followed; she had become a fugitive as truly as Manuello was, for, now, she was to him as if she were, indeed, his wife, attending to all wants of his that she could satisfy, and, secretly and silently, becoming but the shadow of the gay and pretty girl that she had been before; her friends, who saw her often, noted this sad change, but did not know its cause.
Father Felix watched the girl at times and pitied her, for he had learned that she had been devoted to the handsome peasant whom he also was assured was guilty of some crime and, since his disappearance, he had figured out some things that made him almost certain what the crime had been, for the good Priest was much alone and thought more deeply about many things than those who have not followed psychic lines of reasoning.
One morning, Father Felix went, again, to visit Ruth, and found Estrella with her, and he asked the girl about her little friend who had been dear to her from early little girlhood; Estrella told him that she had not seen her for some time, as, when she'd gone to visit her, she had been gone, and Tessa had not come to see her as she'd asked her to, for she had left word for her where to come to find her, knowing she could trust her, for she'd always been a true and faithful friend to her.
The good Priest pondered for a moment, then he said:
"I wish that you would go, at once, to see your little friend; I think that she is at her home at present, and I wish that you would try to discover what it is that is troubling her, for she is most unhappy over something and I wish that you would help her if you can for she is in need of understanding help at this time more than at any time during my acquaintance with her. Go, my Daughter, find your little friend and try to assist her if you can."
Estrella, having secured the permission of Ruth, followed the advice of the good Priest and departed on her errand of love and kindness.
When Father Felix had been assured of their privacy, he turned to his companion and said:
"I have information of importance to give you, my Daughter. We are drawing nearer and nearer to the goal we seek. Our compatriots are growing weary of blockading Havana and other harbors near to us and will very soon advance into the interior of Cuba. When that time comes there will be great suffering all around us and I think that it will be best for you and me to form a sort of secret society with passwords, which, while simple in themselves, will convey to us a secret meaning. You and I must act as one in this matter.... I am sure of your fealty and you can rely upon mine but how many others there are near to us upon whose loyalty we can depend I do not know. Estrella is discreet and thoughtful for an uneducated and untrained girl, but she would have no idea of what course to pursue under complicated or difficult circumstances, so that it may be necessary to keep many events secret from her. There are many spies already in Cuba and there are those among us who would be willing to exchange the lives and property of their best friends for personal emolument. I know one young fellow who has, as I believe, already sold his birthright of truth and honor for a mess of pottage and there are others of his ilk. I rely on you alone in all this village of San Domingo ... you, alone, are strong and capable ... you, alone, are thoroughly American and devoted to your native land. I rely on you, my Daughter, and you may rely on me. Let us now arrange a secret pact between us so that, should we be separated, we may be sure of any word that each may send the other. If I send to you a message adding to the body of it the wordpaxalone, then I will mean to signify that all is well with me and that I do not know of any secret danger threatening you, but if to the wordpaxI addvobiscum, then you are to be made aware that danger threatens you, while I may, yet, be safe from it, but if I sayPax vobiscusthen I'll mean that we are both in danger of a similar nature; if I send these latter words, you are to use all means of safety at your command to seclude yourself from outside notice just as much as possible and to try to find me if you can do so without exposure to yourself; but if I say justpaxthen I mean what the word implies, and you may go to and from your home with freedom. I will come to see you just as often as I can and I will arrange to have the officers of our own army and navy visit you and then you will use your own good judgment combined with what knowledge they will give to you as to how you will proceed, knowing that my spirit will be with you even if my body cannot be ... even if I should be separated from this perishable body, my Daughter, I think that God would let me come to you to help you.... He would know our need and it is my belief He would supply it. Let us pray to Him for guidance, now, before I leave you for the night. Father in heaven, protect and guide our footsteps while we stay upon this mundane sphere of spiritual action. Help us do what we were meant to do and teach us how to walk in unknown paths which we are, now, about to enter on. May what is just and right be conquerors in conflicts that will, very soon, be carried on about us. May the souls of those about to leave this world be prepared for the great change from this world to another one, and may we, who are Thy humble servants, do the things that will be pleasing in Thy sight. Bless us, now, and guide us unto Thee. Amen."
When Estrella reached the home of little Tessa, she found her friend about to go somewhere but where she would not say ... she seemed so much distraught about it that Estrella did not ask the second time where she was going; she could see that she had made some preparations for the journey, for she had a small bag filled with eatables and a jug of home-made vintage in her hands; Estrella plainly saw how distressed she was and how wan and weary, too, and, so, she only stayed a very short time; but, when she went away, she only went just far enough to be where Tessa could not see her ... then she watched her little friend, but only with the kindest thoughts of her, and saw her take an unused, winding path a little ways, then hasten on without a path at all, so far as she could see; she wound among the cacti, fearlessly, as if upon a very important errand, and as if she feared that she would be too late to do the errand she was bent upon; Estrella watched her for a time, and, then, still with the kindest thoughts of Tessa, followed after her, but far enough behind her so she could not see her ... she would stoop behind a friendly bit of brush whenever little Tessa turned around and gazed about her like a startled little bird about to seek its hidden nest; so, unobserved, Estrella followed after her, and came, at length, to that small clearing where the ruined hut had stood for many years; Estrella knew about it, having found it at the same time Manuello had, indeed, for they two used to roam the hills together when they were but little children ... sometimes Tessa went with them, but, oftener, they were alone; and, so, Estrella peered within the ruined hut and saw its occupant as he lay there in bitter pain and wan and weary, too, like little Tessa was; she saw the other girl creep past the tumble-down old door that she had set up at the entrance to the hut to shield its inmate from the winds, and, also, to try to keep the fact that he was there at all unknown; she saw the little tender-hearted woman kneel beside the rude couch on which her restless patient lay and kiss the lips that only moaned her name in anguish and despair; she saw her smooth the black and silky hair back from the brow of Manuello, and, then, she heard the following conversation.
"Tell me, little Tessa," said her patient, eagerly, "are you sure you were not seen when you came here, today? I greatly fear that you will yet divulge, in some way, my hiding-place. I could not move a step to save myself, no matter who came here to find me. It is terrible to be like this. I'd rather die than stay here like this for another day.... I wish you'd find a gun, somewhere, and bring it to me the next time you come and let me end the lives of both of us. You are like a little skeleton, yourself.... I wonder what's the matter with you ... are you ill or is it only just the weariness and fright that makes you look so? If you should fail me, I would surely die ... a wounded rat that cannot even run to save itself. Tessa, tell me," he cried out, peevishly, "are you sick? You look so pale today it seems to me you are about to faint away ... and what would I do, then?"
"I don't believe that I am sick," she said, cheerfully. "I'm sure I don't know why I'm pale.... It is very warm today, for one thing ... I hurried up the hill ... Estrella came...."
At that name, her patient roused again:
"Estrella! Are you sure she did not follow you? She could gloat about me, now, if she were minded to ... what did you bring for me to eat, today?" he ended, changing the subject, abruptly. "I'm almost starved to death; I wish you'd come a little earlier, tomorrow."
"I will try, dear Manuello, I will try," said little Tessa, gravely. "I always try to come as soon as I can come when I'm alone and can evade the children."
Manuello tossed a while in silence, then he asked again:
"Are you sure Estrella did not follow you? Look outside and see if there is not someone near the hut. I'm afraid ... I'm dreadfully afraid, somehow, today. I've lain right here, now, all these weeks, and have not been so frightened as I am, somehow, today. Look outside and see!"
And, then, Estrella crept away for she could do no good by staying, and she did not wish to harm either one of her old friends on whose distress she looked.
Estrella went back to the mansion on the hill, a sadder, it is true, and yet also a wiser woman for she'd seen poor little Tessa's secret burden and Manuello's sorry plight.
She went to Father Felix, the next day, to advise with him about what she had seen; he cautioned her not to mention it to anyone she knew, which advice she followed, strictly; it enlightened him to some extent and he pitied little Tessa more than ever, for he knew the sort of man her patient was ... he knew that he was selfish to the very core of him and had no gratitude for anyone who'd helped him; so he pitied little Tessa and began, in many little unknown ways, to help her bear the burden she'd assumed.
To begin with, when she came to the confessional, as almost everyone who lived in San Domingo did, he only asked her questions such as she could answer easily ... he did not touch on murder or on lies or on anything that might lead on to surprising her sad secret; he knew her for a simple-minded, loving, tender little girl and he pitied her and did not try to wring from her her secret, knowing that, in all human probability, she would go, some day, to the ruined hut and find no Manuello there to either curse or bless her: in fact, he looked upon this as the most likely of anything that could occur and, when he saw poor little Tessa fading with anxiety and dread, he went, one day, to see the patient in the deserted hut, and, after that, there was no patient there, for Manuello limped away, as he could stand, at last, and hid from even little Tessa for he thought she had betrayed him, after all, and, so, he cursed her with the balance of his rotten luck.
June 10, 1898, was a memorable day for Cuba, for, on that date, the glorious flag of our own much-beloved country was unfurled over Cuban soil, upheld and supported by United States troops, for the first time.
Father Felix had kept himself well informed as to military matters, and had often consulted with Ruth Wakefield concerning what would actually be needed by our armies when they were finally in the field; in pursuance of the purpose to which they had both devoted their lives and fortunes, these two had established a temporary hospital not far from the city of Santiago, as the good Priest had been informed that one of the next moves of our forces would be in that vicinity; so that, when our starry banner first floated in the breeze at Camp McCalla, Ruth stood beside the new-fledged army Chaplain, and watched, through tear-dimmed eyes, the emblem of our liberty and freedom as it was proudly raised.
That night passed quietly, but, for five successive days and nights thereafter, a bitter battle raged in which our blue-clad boys met and finally defeated the Spanish hordes that tried to drive them back or leave their lifeless bodies lying there beneath the blistering sun.
When Ruth had sailed from Havana she had brought her little household with her and established them in temporary quarters near the hospital, and, soon, she saw the little white cots filled with sick or wounded Americans and Cuban scouts.
Volunteer nurses were immediately in demand as, in many ways, our forces were unprepared to meet the enemy; there are no soldiers in the world as brave ... as fine ... as capable ... as are our own United States Volunteers ... both men and women, and, so, Ruth Wakefield and Estrella, anxious to put into practice what they had learned to do, donned the clean white uniforms they had become accustomed to in the training they had taken in Havana for this very purpose, and, very soon, to the eye of a novice, there were two more trained nurses ministering to the many wants of the boys who lay there on those narrow cots, weak and suffering but triumphant in spite of their pain, for the cause of right had won in the first real conflict upon Cuban soil between the Spaniards and the Americans assisted by Cuban insurgents, who, mainly, acted as spies and scouts, a work to which they were adapted by nature and long practice in a country infested by those whose only object in ruling it had been to gain what they could, in resources and amusement, from the natives, with no thought either for their comfort or advancement along the lines of civilized living.
Among the Cuban scouts who had been wounded on that first day of actual combat was one who happened to fall under the care of Estrella for he had been carried in right after her entry into the work of the hospital; this man had been slightly wounded as he was about to give valuable information to one of our own officers, and, perhaps for that reason and because he had shown himself to be particularly useful, he had received even more than the usual attention on the battle-field, for his wound had been dressed more carefully than is customary when first aid is given in the midst of the fray, so that the attending surgeon had declared his condition such that all he needed was tender care, which was why his case had been assigned to a volunteer nurse.
Estrella gravely assumed the duty allotted to her, with some misgivings as to her own ability, it is true, but with a strong resolve to do the best she could; as she bent over her patient, she noticed, first, his almost deathly pallor, then a jagged scar that stretched across his cheek and had been lately healed ... the edges of it were yet red and angry looking; the girl bent over him pityingly, and, then, she started back for she had recognized, even in the dim light that pervaded the temporary hospital, the features of Manuello; remembering what she had seen in the ruined hut, she shrank from contact with her old admirer, but, with that memory came the knowledge that he had been wounded while in the performance of a service of benefit to her beloved country, and she did not falter in carrying out the instructions of the surgeon in charge with regard to her patient, thinking that, perhaps, before he had recognized her, she might be transferred to some other part of the hospital.
Ruth took her place among the ministering nurses with confidence and courage, for she was one who immediately altogether forgot almost her own identity when asked to help another human being, and, while her sympathy with suffering was remarkable, so that she actually suffered pain herself when witnessing it in others, yet she had always been able to do whatever was required of her in an emergency regardless of any bodily ailment that might be troubling her at the time; now, as she saw all around her strong men laid low by violence, her spirit rose to the occasion and she was, for the time, at least, the very personification of patriotic zeal and her love for her country rose to heights almost undreamed of even by herself; she moved among the little cots freely, lending a hand here and whispering a word of encouragement there; the nurses recognized in her a master spirit, at once, and the surgeons looked into her steady eyes, and, instantly, allowed her privileges seldom granted to anyone outside of their own profession; her very presence seemed to give the sufferers courage to bear their pain, for the light that shone from her clear, gray eyes was above the things of a merely earthly existence and lifted them out of their bodies, to some extent, making them impervious to what would have otherwise been excruciating anguish; surgeons, at that time, did not recognize the mental attitude of their patients, to any great extent, and they marveled at the influence of the mistress of the mansion on the hill, attributing it, in part, to the evident superiority of the young woman to those with whom she had been associated in Cuba.
In passing among the little cots, Ruth, at length, came to the one beside which Estrella was standing, anxiously looking into her patient's flushed face, for, with returning strength, Manuello's fever had risen; Ruth put one hand on the girl's shoulder and drew her away from the cot for a moment while she whispered to her:
"Do not weary yourself too much, my Dear, for we must keep our strength so as to be able to help others ... you seem distressed ... do you know your patient, personally?"
Estrella was only too glad to tell her kind and understanding friend just the situation in which she found herself, so that, when the young Cuban opened his large, dark eyes and looked about him in astonishment, it was upon Ruth's face he gazed instead of on Estrella's whom the former had sent into another part of the work of caring for the wounded.
"Where am I?" moaned Manuello. "What has happened to me, now?"
"You have been sorely wounded in the service of your country, my brave fellow ... you are now in a hospital where you will receive every possible care and attention," answered Ruth in a low, yet clear tone of voice. "You are in the hands of those who appreciate what you have done and greatly desire to assist in your recovery."
Having assured himself that he was among friends, he began to make inquiries as to the nature of his wound, wondering how long it would be necessary for him to remain as he was then, but Ruth only told him that he must not talk and must use every precaution he could to prevent increase of the fever that was now high enough to demand the use of the handy little thermometer that Ruth, in common with the other amateur nurses with whom she had studied, had learned how to operate; she promptly thrust this little fever-gauge into his mouth and told him to keep it there quietly until she took it away; gazing at her as if she were a creature from another world, Manuello lay there quiescent and tractable, all his wild nature being centred upon his desire to again be the free, strong being he had but recently been.
Old Mage peered into the room where the cots of the wounded soldiers and sailors had been placed and caught a glimpse of her dear young lady as she stood by the bedside of Manuello; he had just opened his eyes, and, as he lay there with his black curls touching the white pillow, he reminded the old woman very much of another handsome, dark young fellow whom she believed to be lying in his narrow grave in the little cemetery ... the narrow grave in which she had buried the wedding-ring that had brought so much sorrow to the one whom she loved best in all the world: as the old woman looked at the dark face on the pillow she noticed the angry scar that disfigured it and thought that it might have changed the face she remembered as without a blemish so that she would have difficulty in recognizing it; her mind began to travel along the line of thought suggested by this possibility and she determined to rid Ruth of the necessity of attending to her former husband, at least, if her most dire suspicions should prove to be well founded; she at once remembered that she, herself, had not seen the corpse of the man interred as Victorio Colenzo and she knew very well how earthly death will change the appearance of a human being's body ... then she thought of what had been told to her as to how the man had died ... altogether it seemed to her very possible that the man she had seen in the little cemetery on the day of the funeral she had attended with Estrella might have been some one closely resembling Manuello, so that, perhaps, Estrella's foster brother had been buried in the supposed grave of Victorio Colenzo, who, wishing to be free from both entangling alliances he had made in San Domingo, had allowed the name under which he had entered into them to be placed upon the simple head-stone that marked the grave of another man.
As soon as old Mage had arrived at the conclusion above described, she acted on it at once by slipping stealthily up to Ruth and whispering to her:
"Come away, my Pretty; you are needed; there is someone outside who wishes to speak to you at once. I will take your place."
Ruth, thinking the summons important, yielded her place for a moment, intending to return within a very few moments, but no sooner had old Mage assumed charge of the patient than she began to devise ways and means by which she hoped to prolong the stay of her dear young lady, for it seemed to her to be too much for her to bear ... to care for her recreant husband under all the trying circumstances.
The first thing that the new nurse did would have been severely criticized by the head surgeon had his attention not been fully occupied in another part of the large room; to begin with, instead of smoothing back the dark hair from the man's forehead as it would seem to one observing her from the rear she was doing, she very deliberately pulled the handful of curls she was clutching, hoping to make him open his eyes so that she could continue her scrutiny of him in order to be as certain as possible of his suspected identity; this ruse succeeded, for Manuello's large, dark brown eyes flew open and were fixed in horror on the face bending over him; it was quite a different countenance than the one he had last seen beside him, for old Mage never had been a beauty and the loss of her teeth had not added to her appearance while the ferocity of her glance was accentuated by the multitude of criss-cross wrinkles which surrounded the light blue eyes out of which she was glaring at him; the words she hissed in his ear added to the confusion under which the helpless man was laboring:
"I thought that you were dead and buried out of sight ... you hateful, low-lived pup! How dare you be brought into her place, now? If I did just right, I do believe I'd choke the life out of you while you can't fight back! The girl's here, too ... you must be a devil in human form! You ought to be burning in hell!"
The object that had led old Mage to make this attack upon the wounded man was about to be accomplished, for, with a wild scream, he vaulted over the foot of the little cot and bounded through the open doorway as if he were pursued by demons; his temporary nurse did not try to prevent his exit which was what she had longed to bring about, although the manner of his going startled even her, as she had no idea of the effect that her hasty words would have upon the guilty spirit of the man whose crimes, it seemed to him, had found him out; the new wound he had that day received, was not of a nature to impede his progress for a short distance, and he almost instantly disappeared from among the nurses and surgeons; his wild expression so impressed all whom he met before he reached the outskirts of the hospital grounds that he was again a fugitive, hunted, this time, by both friends and enemies.
As Ruth was about to return to her patient, for she could find no immediate need of her presence elsewhere, she met an excited nurse who told her of having seen an excessively active young man flying out into the open, clad only in hospital garb.
Ruth was hurrying to report the circumstances to the head surgeon and to arrange to have searching parties sent out to bring back her pseudo patient, when, passing the cot where old Mage was still stationed, she noted that it was empty; stopping to inquire the reason for this change, her old nurse hurriedly related the facts concerning the exodus of the young man, while she secretly rejoiced at the success of her strategem, for so she chose to denominate the method she had taken of protecting her dear young lady from the nearness of the man she had married through mistaken confidence.
Estrella, having been sent to consult with her friend concerning some matter connected with the welfare of the temporary hospital, came along, just then, and was told what had happened.
"Why," she exclaimed, "where has poor Manuello gone? He is not fit to be outside alone. I am afraid I was a coward to leave him when he needed care. Poor little Tessa would have stayed right with him no matter what he said or did. I have not seen her," she mused, "for a long time, now ... not since a number of days before we came away from home.... I wonder where she is."
Could Estrella have seen her little friend at that moment, she would have lost all pity for Manuello and added to that she already had for poor Tessa, for she was then suffering from the last encounter she had had with the man who had just fled out into the night; although the little peasant would have been proud to have been made the wife of the man whom she madly loved, yet she resisted the idea of being merely his mistress for Father Felix had forcibly impressed upon the minds of the girls of his flock the virtue of chastity; the consequence of this resistance had been a blow received by herself which had rendered her helpless for the time being, as it had made it impossible for her to walk for any distance, and a slash across one of Manuello's dusky cheeks which she had made with a knife she had happened to have in her hand at the time of his attack.
The heart-sick girl was lying on the rude bed she had made for the man who had left her without aid, in the deserted hut into which Estrella had once peered, while her friend, so far away from her, was bemoaning the fate of her ungrateful former lover.
She had carried some food and water into the hovel upon the day of her last struggle with Manuello and she could creep about the inside of the small building, so that, being hardy and healthy, she had, at that time, subsisted upon the supplies she had on hand, for several days; she was just beginning to crawl carefully out into the surrounding brush where she was glad to find plenty of ripe cactus-fruit and other wild edibles; she was very lonely and frightened but she took her condition as a punishment for the sins she had committed since she had tried to assist Manuello in spite of the fact that she had known him to be a criminal; she told her beads, over and over, using the small rosary which she had always worn about her neck, and, as she kissed the crucifix attached to the beads, she often prayed for the man who was the direct cause of her pitiable condition, for she believed it to be her plain duty to forgive, even though she could not forget, him.
When Manuello escaped from the temporary hospital near Camp McCalla, he directed his eager steps toward the place of his nativity, because, as it seemed to him, he would be safer there than he had recently been; it seemed to him that if he could reach the deserted hut where he had been in concealment before, he could rest and recover while he made plans for his future, for he had decided that it would be dangerous for him to follow the American army any longer, at least for a time.
In devious ways and through the use of means known only to such as he, he managed to reach a point midway between Santiago and Havana in a much shorter time than would have seemed possible to one unversed in the ways of the wilderness; here he encountered, suddenly and unexpectedly, the good Priest whom he had known from childhood, who, also, seemed hurrying in the direction of Havana.
The young man kept away from the habitation of men as much as possible after that, and, footsore and weary, but happy in the thought that he had reached his goal, he arrived, at length, just at sunset, in the outskirts of the village of San Domingo; from there he followed the winding path up which little Tessa had so often toiled in his service, he thought of her but did not regret the blow he had given her; in fact, his anger still burned at white heat whenever he remembered how she had disfigured his features, forgetting altogether what she had done for him, because she had not done everything that he had asked her to do.
At length, he reached the vicinity of the deserted hut and stole up to reconnoitre before entering the ruined habitation; he crept up to one of the small windows and peered within; the sight that met his vision startled him to such an extent that he forgot, for the moment, his habitual caution and remained at the window although he had discovered that the hut was occupied; the room he looked into was dimly lit by the rays of the setting sun which penetrated the dense growth of tropical verdure and found their way into the small western aperture that answered the purpose of a look-out toward the village; Tessa was lying, looking very wan and care-worn, upon the rude bed she had arranged for the man who was then staring at her ... in her thin hand was a crucifix which Father Felix had just given to her ... the good Priest was kneeling upon the rough floor beside the couch and the tears were rolling down his cheeks, for the sight before him would have moved far less tender hearts than his; the girl began to speak in a low voice and Manuello strained his power of hearing to catch the faint words which fell from her pale and trembling lips.
"Good Father," she began, speaking as if at confession, "I beseech you to have mercy upon your sinful daughter; I have done grievous wrong during my short life and I beg you to intercede with the God of truth and justice before whose judgment seat I will soon appear. I ask you to pray for me, Father Felix, for I am in need of your prayers. I have been a wicked girl in some ways, though not in all, for I have resisted a very strong desire which was a part of my sinful nature and which I believe I have, now, through suffering, gained the victory over."
The girl ceased speaking from sheer weakness, then, and the Priest took the crucifix from her shaking hand and attached it to the cord at his waist, then he lifted his clasped hands in earnest and humble supplication:
"Father Who art in heaven," he prayed, "listen to us who are in Thy gracious Hands, both here and hereafter. Help me to guide this suffering soul aright and help her to walk where she was meant to walk, whether she regains her health and returns to the life she has had, formerly, or whether she passes out of this narrow existence and goes into eternity before another morning dawns. Look down, dear Father, in mercy on us who are Thy humble servants. Amen."
"Father Felix," began the sick girl, "I must confess to you something that has lain heavily upon my conscience for many weeks. I am rejoiced that you have found me for I will die easier to know that you have the secrets that I have been keeping in my heart, being unable to come to the refectory and tell you what I must, now, impart to you. A heinous crime was committed in San Domingo some months ago, as I believe by one whom you and I both know; I have withheld my suspicions from the authorities and, in so doing, I feel that I have done wrong, Father. I wish to tell you all I know, now, and let you do what you think best ... it will relieve my heart of a very heavy load to tell this to you. Manuello...."
Before her lips could utter the next word, the door of the hut which had been leaning over the opening designed for it as it had long been guiltless of hinges, was violently thrust aside and the subject of the remarks Tessa was about to make, rudely entered and advanced to the side of the couch upon which the girl was lying; the livid scar upon his dark face combined with the pallor that had followed the fever he had been having, the freshly bandaged wound, the limp that had followed the rough dressing of the bullet-punctured leg of the man, combined with the fierce determination that characterized each one of his movements, altogether made a most unpleasant appearance.
Father Felix quietly rose and stepped between the sufferer on the couch and the young Cuban who regarded the Priest with no respect in the expression of his countenance, but rather with contempt and lack of personal fear; he attempted to shove him aside so that he might again look down on the trembling occupant of the rude bed, but found that Father Felix was standing firmly on a sturdy pair of legs which had had good exercise in tramping about the hills and valleys in pursuit of his chosen profession of saving the souls of those who needed his ministrations; Manuello glared at him and snarled out:
"Out of my way with your sing-song prayers and your dangling cross! I am a desperate man and do not mean to allow even a Priest to balk either my escape or my vengeance! Stand aside and let me stop that mouth forever!"
He again tried to shove the Priest aside, when Father Felix hastily threw off his robe so that it might not impede his movements and closed with the young fellow, grappling with him with arms left bare from the shoulder upon which the biceps muscles stood out in great knots that came and went and rippled underneath the skin; Manuello was surprised at this onslaught for the good Priest's fighting prowess had never, so far, been tested in just this way; but familiarity with certain turns and twists told in the young villain's favor in spite of the freshness and vigor of Father Felix' attack; the poor girl on the floor was unable to interfere and watched the two combatants with horrified eyes as they struggled all over the rude room, sometimes one and sometimes the other seeming about to conquer; neither one of the contestants had a weapon as Manuello had come away from the hospital clad only as the other patients were; in his wild flight he had snatched an outer garment from among the many lying in a heap outside the door through which he had fled, but, with this exception, he wore only what had been put upon him by the surgeons.
Like two Titans, the two human beings struggled for supremacy, the one being actuated only by a desire to serve the right, and the other seeming to have been given almost satanic power as he felt that his own life and future freedom depended upon adding two more to his victims, for the Priest had already heard enough to make him find out more and Tessa had been about to confess all she knew to him, so, above everything on earth, the furious Cuban wished to slay the Priest and the poor girl whose only fault had been her yielding to his selfishness.
Twice, Manuello's fingers almost closed about the good Priest's throat, and twice did Father Felix lift the other man bodily from the floor and dash him down in a huddled heap in one corner of the room, but neither had quite conquered when an unexpected interference ended the conflict very suddenly.
Manuello had crowded Father Felix over toward the tumble-down door of the hut and was about to push him through the opening, or, at least, attempt to do so, when, all at once the young fellow felt his fingers lose their strength and his arms fell away from the body of the Priest ... he was conscious of a strange, tingling sensation all through his shaken nerves; had he been familiar with the action of powerful electric currents, he would have described it as a heavy shock of electricity but, although he could not have altogether explained his sensations, their effect was instantaneous and resulted in the release of Father Felix while his assailant dropped prone upon the floor of the hut and groveled at his feet in abject terror, for he thought the end of his life had come and, in that thought, the murderer became the penitent and, with the fear of death before his mind, he began to mumble broken bits of half-forgotten prayers and to beg for forgiveness for his sins which he knew to be many and grievous.
As the changed attitude of his foe became evident to the good Priest he hurried over to the side of the sick girl with assurances of his desire to assist her in every possible way and, with the changed conditions surrounding him, he again put on the robe of his holy office, and, with it, seemed again to be the sedate and quiet leader of the flock he strove to lead into green pastures and beside pleasant waters.
Having ministered to Tessa, for the moment, he turned his attention to his late antagonist:
"My Son," he said, "you are wounded and spent with the loss of blood; your mind, perhaps, has been turned by your misfortunes so that you did not realize either your words or your actions. I hope that, from this time on, you will fix your mind on better things than thoughts of vengeance or of murder. To begin with, I have a favor to ask of you. Will you help me remove Tessa, here, from this place to her home? She is in need of tender care."
"I will do what you tell me to," meekly answered the recent antagonist of the Priest. "I see that I was wrong in imagining you to be my enemy. I think that this last wound has made me crazy for the time, as you have just said. From this time on I will try to be as I have been before ... glad to be guided by your higher wisdom. I humbly ask your pardon for what I have done here, tonight."
Manuello bowed his head for his spirit had been broken by the strange happening which we have described, and, at once, his hope began to rise again, that, after all, Father Felix would do him no real harm, for he seemed, again, the kind and loving prelate whom the man had known from his youth up.
When some simple preparations had been made, the two men lifted Tessa from the rude couch to the stretcher they had improvised, and, in turn, lifted it, with its light burden, to their shoulders, when, from time to time, they found an open space in the dense underbrush that hid the ruined hut from ordinary observation; thus they descended the hill that led to the village of San Domingo; having reached the door of the home of the girl, in the gathering darkness, they laid the stretcher down and Manuello disappeared as Father Felix knocked for admittance.
To say the young fellow was glad to be released from what seemed to him to be the custody of the Priest would be to put his feelings lightly, for, having cleared the ruined hut, he quickly returned to it and, lying on the simple bed Tessa had so lately occupied, he went to sleep, apparently, as sweetly as a new-born infant would.
Old Mage wondered, a little, at Estrella's remark concerning Manuello, after he had disappeared; but she finally set her mind at rest by deciding that, whichever of the dashing Cubans she had ousted from Ruth's help, she had done good work, for, as she said to herself, from her view-point it was "good riddance to bad rubbage."
The head surgeon made a note of the occurrence and went on about his work, for one man more or less, in time of war, cannot be reckoned as in civil life.
Ruth Wakefield had no doubt at all as to the identity of her former patient; when a pure girl has given herself to be the wife of any man she does not, soon, forget his personality, and Ruth knew very well the man she'd cared for had not been the one she'd called her husband ... that his body lay within its narrow grave she felt assured but what lay buried over him old Mage, alone, yet knew; she'd chuckled, many times, as to that burial, and it was hard for her to keep her secret as she longed for the approval that she felt she merited in this small matter, but the thought that Ruth might differ with her as to what she'd done had always, so far, sealed her lips.
"There is a time in the affairs of men that, taken at its flood, leads on to fortune," has been said by one who, justly, has been called a master in the art of putting words together; William Shakespeare did not know the actors in this story, but he knew the minds of men as few have known them since his time.
Manuello did not know that such a writer as this master of the English language had ever existed, yet he acted on the thought in the above quotation, when, the morning after the events related in this chapter, he again departed from the ruined hut and disappeared, effectually, within the fastnesses that only such as he could know about; every inch, or so it seemed, of territory surrounding Havana was familiar to the Cuban scouts and Manuello had grown up among the cacti and the palms and desolation that followed in the wake of Spanish oppression and injustice.
July 1, 1898, at sunset, the fair folds of our own stars and stripes were gently floating over San Juan hill.
On that day some of the most heroic deeds in American history had been performed by those who represent the highest types of American virility.
Roosevelt's Rough Riders had, that day, advanced behind their intrepid leader, into the very jaws of death and very many of them never came again into the pleasant walks of life they'd known before that fateful day ... very many of them lay scattered over the different heights that led on to the very top of San Juan hill, inert and helpless human tenements that had once held the proud and willing spirits of the men who followed Roosevelt with love and daring.
Some of them were picked up and carried to temporary hospitals that had sprung up near the scene of active warfare; in one of these shelters for the wounded Ruth Wakefield stood, that evening, bending low above a little cot on which was stretched a manly form ... the form of one who'd ridden with the rest of those who followed him they called, in brotherly affection, "Teddy," and who was beside him when his horse was shot from under him.
"Nurse," he whispered, through the bandages that bound his head, "Nurse, it would have done you good to hear him say 'Forward! Charge the hill!' It would have heartened you could you have seen him, when he was unhorsed, grab a rifle and fire it as he went on up, on foot."
"You must not talk," said Ruth. "You must rest quietly, now. We won the hill," she added, proudly. "We won the hill and I'm as proud as anyone could ever be of Roosevelt and of you all who followed after him. I sometimes wish," she ended, "I sometimes wish that I had been a man to go into the battles instead of only caring for the wounded ... yet I'm thankful to be of some assistance to the ones who need the help that I can give to them."
"You should have seen," began the man again, "you should have seen our Teddy charge that hill! They do not make a man like that except about once in a century or so ... they do not make such men as that in every age.... I tell you he's a holy terror when it comes to fighting, Nurse! He mowed them down ... he made them crawl and creep.... I always knew he could do more on horseback than any man that ever lived but I never knew, until today, what he could do on foot."
"Our Teddy is a wonder.... I agree with you in everything you say of him, but, now," once more she was the nurse in charge, "you must be very still ... that is," she ended, with a happy little turn of thought, "if you ever want to go where Teddy is, again."
That was enough to silence him and he lay very still and fixed his eyes upon her face, and, finally, he slept, and rested from his labors for a time; but what he'd said stayed in Ruth's inner consciousness and the heart that throbbed within her beat more proudly after that, because she was, as was the man his comrades praised, an American; to her that title was enough to fill with pride a human heart ... to be a true American ... a citizen of the United States of America ... it seemed to her meant more than any royal appellation ever could; no crown adorned with priceless jewels could replace that name to her; at one time in her life, this question had been asked of her:
"What would you do if you must choose between all that you love on earth and fealty to some other than your native land, and this one country that you call your own?"
"What would I do?" she answered. "I would not renounce my fealty to my native land.... I would keep God and my conscience and my country ... no one could take them from me ... all the rest I'd leave behind and cleave to them."
Ruth Wakefield meant this statement and she proved it later on beyond all shadow of a doubt.
When her first patient slept, Ruth went to stand beside another cot for she was always privileged to go wherever she might choose; her help in many ways, including financial aid, had made this hospital possible and she went at will among the other nurses who looked up to her as women will to one who is a natural leader of the ones with whom she associates.
She came, at length, to a cot that was apart from all the rest because its occupant had needed to be isolated for good reasons; he was violent, at times, the nurses said ... when his fever rose he soon became delirious and they had hard work keeping him under any sort of control; he was a native scout, they told her ... he had done good work that day upon the side of right, and, so, Ruth went to care for him, for it was just as natural for her to take heavy work as it was natural for the rest to let her do it.
Soon after she had taken charge of him, he stirred uneasily and mumbled in his restless sleep ... he spoke a name she'd hoped to never hear again ... the name of him whom she had loved enough to marry....
"Victorio Colenzo," moaned the man, "Victorio Colenzo is dead and I ... I am his murderer ... it was my hand that took his life.... I am a murderer, good Father Felix.... I am the murderer of the man I hated, for he took the girl I loved from me.... I killed him with my own machete and he is dead.... I am the murderer of Victorio Colenzo ... shrive my soul, good Father Felix, for I am about to go before my Maker."
The moaning ceased then, and Ruth bent over him to see if he still lived, for she could see his very lips were livid and his eyes seemed set and glazed as if with death's own dews; she put her hand upon his head and looked into his face with earnest pity in her tender eyes, for she was very pitiful and even lenient when faults of anyone except herself were to be considered.
"The poor fellow is delirious," she thought. "He does not know what he is saying. Odd that he should use that name. Poor fellow ... he will not last long, I fear. I wonder if Father Felix could come to him."
With that thought, she turned to go to try to find the Priest, for he almost always could be found where there was suffering and need of him, but Manuello (for the reader has discovered who her patient was) snatched at her hand as she was just about to go away and said to her:
"Please intercede for me, good Angel ... tell them I have never had a chance in all my life ... tell them ... intercede...." and, then, his weak voice died away in moans, again, "Tessa, please," he said, "don't look at me that way!"
Again Ruth leaned above his bed, for in his eyes there was a look that seldom comes except when death is near. She felt a gentle hand upon her arm and knew that Estrella stood beside her ... she had come to seek advice from her superior.
So they stood ... the widow and the sweetheart, and the murderer of the man they both had loved, as virgins love, lay there before them.
Suddenly, he roused himself, as with a last and desperate effort, from the lethargy of death itself ... he looked upon them standing there beside his bed ... the woman he had loved as wild and rough and lawless men will always love a woman and the one who seemed to him as if she were an angel straight from paradise ... he imagined he had passed from life as he had known that word, and was beyond all earthly help; and, so, he did not call for human help but cried aloud on God to save his deathless soul. It was horrible to hear his human lips cry out to God as they were crying then, and Ruth regretted that Estrella stood so near to him whom she had called her foster-brother, for she'd whispered Manuello's name at once, so she sent her to find Father Felix if she could and to bring him there to help this suffering soul.
After the girl had gone away, Ruth stood alone beside the cot and looked with great commiseration on the almost senseless clay before her ... on the staring eyes and sullen, dark-skinned pallor of the heavily scarred face ... on the lips that once wore careless smiles but, now, were drawn and pale ... on the broad shoulders and powerful muscled arms. As she gazed at him it seemed to her a very pitiful condition under which he labored; she wondered why it had to be as it was with this strong, untutored man; she wondered why he had to lay his strong, young body on the altar of his passions and see it consumed as it had been by hate and treachery; and, then, she remembered the service upon which he had just been bent ... and her heart yearned over him for that alone; she leaned above his face and searched it for a sign of returning strength but found none there; his eyes stared into hers, it seemed, and then they sought the moving shadows on the canvas overhead.
Ruth raised her head from gazing into Manuello's eyes and seemed to see, above the cot on which he lay, another and a different form yet like to that she saw inert before her; it was as if a glorified replica of the man were floating over him; in many ways it was exactly like the Manuello lying there upon that little cot, and, yet, the form was more ethereal ... more delicate ... more beautiful than he could ever be and live upon the earthly plane where he had found so many things to lead him down and seldom found a single thing to lead him higher, or, at least, found anything that he could fully understand, for, although Father Felix tried to show him how to go to climb to better thoughts, he had not seen the steps at all but blundered on along the path he found himself upon.
As Ruth began to realize the change that she had seen take place, a rosy flush crept over her fair face, she clasped her hands and bowed her head in silent prayer:
"Father in heaven," she thought, "look down in mercy on this soul about to come before You for Your judgment. Have pity on his faults for they were very many ... have mercy on him, for his sins were very heavy in his human life. He did not know the way to go, dear Father ... he could not see the steps at all. Have pity on him for he will have need of pity such as only You can give to him. Amen."
And when she lifted up her face again, good Father Felix stood beside her, crucifix in hand. His head was also bowed in silent prayer for he had witnessed many earthly deaths and knew, at once, that Manuello, as he had been known in human life, had passed beyond all human judgment and gone on to his reward or punishment in another world where everything that he had done upon the earth would be accounted for by him and him alone; the good Priest knew, however, that God is good as well as just and he remembered Manuello's ignorance and superstition, too, and hoped that, after he'd been purged of earthly sins by deep repentance, he would come into the light that is God's Smile and shines for all who seek it honestly, no matter what their sins on earth have been, but only after long and terrible remorse for harm that they have done while in the body that God gave them to use and not abuse.
The road that leads into the light that is God's Smile is often hedged about by thorns and bitter herbs instead of delicate and fragrant flowers; sometimes poisonous reptiles lurk along the way and strive to strike their fangs within the heart of him who toils there; sometimes, human passions guide a strong man into devious and sinful acts as Manuello had been guided, more than once; he'd yielded to them just because he had not learned the way to handle them and they had mastered him and made of him their slave instead of being what he ordered them to be; he'd thrown the remnant of his human life into the balance in the cause he really loved ... the cause of freedom for his native land.
And Ruth and Father Felix thought of him as of a patriot only as they stood beside the cot on which his lifeless body lay; they covered up his face as gently as if they had not known of any sin committed by the hands now lying still and cold and helpless ... they closed his staring eyes as softly as they would have closed the eyes of any human being who will read these words had he or she been left for them to care for when the soul had left its earthly tenement; disembodied Spirits often linger near to such as these who stood beside that cot, for they know that they are like to them in very many ways, though yet abiding in a human frame ... they know that such as Ruth and Father Felix feel the same, sweet, almost holy joy that comes to those who meet and make welcome the ones who leave the earth-plane, newly dead; though death, I trust, is only just the change that frees a soul from earthly burdens and releases it from earthly darkness, so that it may climb, when it is purged of earthly sins, into the light that is the Smile of God and shines for all who seek it earnestly.
I do not think that there can be an everlasting hell except for those who wish to dwell in darkness. I do not think there can be perpetual punishment except for those who do not wish to climb beyond it. Ruth and Father Felix felt that this was so, although the good Priest tried to think far otherwise, and, yet, deep down within his inner consciousness, he felt that God, although He is so just, yet pities those who err and welcomes all who wish to put their sins behind them in the path they find themselves upon, no matter whether they may find that path upon the earthly plane or on a higher one. They turned away from that white cot with almost God-like pity in their inmost hearts for him who lay there, or for him who had just left his body lying there upon that little cot.
Ruth sought Estrella so that she might not, again, behold the face of him, who, for the love of her, had done a fearful crime; she wished to save the girl for she had been as innocent of wrong as she, herself, had been; both had been led away by human passion, it is true, but led within the bounds of human law, and, so, according to that human law, neither one was culpable ... the man, alone, had sinned, and whether it had been because he had been stronger, every way, than were the women in the case, we cannot judge. 'Tis God alone must judge us all, and may He guide us all, at last, into the light that is His holy Smile.
When Ruth had left the cot where Manuello died, she, first, found Estrella and told her what had happened after she had gone, and, then, as she had liberty to go where she desired, she started out, just as the dusk was falling, to drive along an unknown road, which as she thought must lead away from the battle-field; she felt secure for armed men of her own race and nation were patrolling all the roads surrounding the hospital; the freshness of the coming night appealed to her and, under its enticing influence, she went much farther than she meant to do; her horses often shied at little heaps that seemed to take on most fantastic shapes with the increasing darkness.
She knew full well of what these little heaps had been made up, and, yet, surrounded as she was by horror, she did not feel afraid, for she was lifted up by patriotic fervor and a great desire to help where help of her was needed as were so many of the Red Cross nurses whom she met; splendid women volunteered their services as nurses during the progress of the Spanish-American war, and wore, with pride and reverence, the brilliant cross that indicated what the calling they had chosen was; Ruth Wakefield served her country with her might and wore her uniform as proudly and conscientiously as any General could; she drove along that lonely, unknown road as quietly and fearlessly as if her horses trotted over the finest boulevard in some populous city of her own United States and firmly held within her strong and steady hands the lines that guided the high-lifed team she had secured for her own use since coming to take charge of the hospital which she had endowed with her own funds.
Suddenly and without warning, her team was startled by a man who rose to his full height and stood erect and tall beside the road as if he'd risen from the heaps of dead that lay beside the way; the horses soon became unmanageable and overturned the vehicle, so that Ruth suddenly found herself thrown against a slight embankment lining the road, while her frightened team turned back toward the hospital; her first thought was of them, but, remembering that, only a few miles back, she had passed one of the patrols, she hoped the team would be secured and taken into safety; then, shudderingly, she realized that she was all alone in a strange and hostile neighborhood, and, acting on a sudden impulse, she hastily climbed over the embankment as she thought she heard a noise approaching on the road; she turned and started back but kept herself concealed as much as possible behind the friendly embankment.
As she proceeded she began to feel a sort of faintness, almost amounting to nausea, creeping over her and dreaded the long walk to the hospital, but decided to go on until she saw an armed man dressed in the uniform of the United States army; she wondered, at first, why she felt faint and almost sick, and, then, she realized that the offensive odors that assailed her sensitive olfactory nerves were those that rise when material bodies have been deprived of the higher life that gave them animation ... that the horrors of a bloody battle-field surrounded her, and, as she advanced slowly and with dreadful anticipation ... as she even stumbled over more than one unconscious form, that, only a few short hours before, had been as full of bounding life as she was then, she thought of what the suffering must be of those who lay among the dead, perhaps for weary, pain-filled hours, alive yet helpless; the thought was a terrific one for any tender-hearted woman to entertain, and Ruth had always been particularly thoughtful of the comfort of anyone who happened to be near to her, and, so, she soon became enthused with the idea that she might search among the heaps of dead and find, maybe, someone who lived and might, if he were rescued, yet be happy in the world she lived in, and, so, she softly called to see if anyone could hear her voice and guide her to the object of her search:
"Are any here who are in need of earthly help?" she asked. "If any here can hear my voice, pray answer me and tell me where to come to find you."
She waited for an answer but none came, at first; and then it seemed to her as if she heard a far-off whisper far away ... she listened breathlessly ... it came again and, then, she followed it until she found the one from whom the whisper came.
He lay among a heap of bodies tossed about as if they had found death together; one whose body lay across his own, Ruth lifted, though she shuddered while she did it, for the stark, stiff form was that of one who'd, only lately, been as full of life as she was then; she laid it softly down and sought the one whose whisper she had heard; her hand crept up, along a rough and blood-soaked uniform, until it found a face and found it warm with sentient life; she was electrified by joy at finding one who lived among the dead, and hastened, then, to separate him from the other bodies lying all around him; it was as if they'd followed after him ... as if he'd been a leader of the rest ... for he was well in front of all of them and yet they were so near that, when they fell, they fell together, all around the one whose life she sought to save.
She was intent on saving life and did not shrink although her gentle hand found many bloody wounds in searching for the one from which his life-blood flowed full fast; she found the place, at last ... a deep flesh-wound that touched an artery in his right arm ... she had a silken scarf about her throat, and, wrapping this about the arm above the wound, she made a tourniquet by using a small surgical instrument which she always carried for that purpose in the pocket of her nurse's apron which she still wore; this stopped the flow of blood at once, and, as the brachial artery was untouched, the man gained strength enough to whisper:
"Tender Heart ... I'm going to name you right away. Tender Heart, how did you happen here ... at night ... alone?"
"I think I came to find you," answered Ruth. "I thought my horses ran away and dumped me on the ground, but, now, I think I came here just to find you and to bind that poor arm. Now I'll go to bring assistance to you just as soon as I can do so."
"Tender Heart," he whispered, for his voice was growing fainter, "if I should not be here when you come again, good-bye.... God bless and keep you safe from harm."
She knew the meaning of the words and almost flew along, although she often stumbled as she went among the bodies lying there upon the blood-soaked ground; she reached the hospital at last ... the time seemed long to her ... and, there, in front of it, stood her two frightened horses, looking all around as if in search of her; she soothed them with her reassuring voice, and then she found a vehicle adapted to the use she wished to put it to, and two assistants from the hospital staff; thus equipped, she took the lines again and drove along the road again but with a different object than the one she'd had before; turning off the road, she found the object of her search and the assistants lifted him upon the stretcher they had brought and, very soon, the man lay, white and spent with loss of blood, but conscious, in a little cot, and Ruth, forgetting her own needs, stood there beside it.
"Tender Heart," said her new patient, after he had been refreshed and bandaged thoroughly, "Tender Heart, I'm very grateful to you. Let me introduce myself to you ... your name, you see, I know. I am one of the five men who answered Roosevelt when he asked for volunteers to follow him to gain the very top of all the ridges that cropped up about San Juan hill." He smiled, "I think you know me, now, as I know you. We're both Americans.... I know that, too ... we both love Teddy.... I could see your eyes flash at the mention of his name. He is a man among men. I wish you could have heard him when he said 'I did not think you would refuse to follow where I would lead.' I stood beside his horse as he said those sad words ... the others followed, then. They followed Teddy up that hill ... they took it, too. We won the day. The Spaniards fled before us. You know me, now," he ended, whimsically, "just as well as I know you."
"Yes," said Ruth, "I know you, now, and you know me ... we're both Americans and both of us love Teddy and are proud of him and what he did this day. And, now, you'd better go to sleep and rest up for we still have work to do ... the Spaniard is not conquered, yet. They'll need us both and so we must do all we can to keep our strength. I'm going, now. Good-bye until tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Tender Heart," he said. "Goodnight."
Ruth went, then, to the little cottage where she found old Mage and Tid-i-wats awaiting her; Estrella stayed on duty in the hospital where she had learned to do her work with neatness and dispatch.
Ruth always told old Mage the happenings of the day as they were seated at their evening meal; her old nurse loved to listen to her animated account of every little thing that she remembered that she'd seen or heard about; she had an unusual memory of small details and a most graphic power of description; these she employed to interest and amuse her old nurse who had been alone with little Tid-i-wats, almost all day; in recounting recent events she passed as lightly as possible over the occurrences of the battle-field where she had found and rescued one who had been left as dead among the lifeless bodies of the slain; she did not wish to shock old Mage too much and, somehow, she did not wish to speak of him she'd rescued ... somehow, she feared that her auditor, who was always eager for romantic episodes would, maybe, choose to enter into rhapsodies concerning the possibilities of her own future if she talked too much about the handsome stranger, for remembering how he'd looked resting, as she'd seen him last, upon the little cot, his dark-blue eyes regarding her with whimsical tenacity, she freely acknowledged to herself that he was handsome and distinguished in appearance; so she changed the subject when old Mage began to question her too closely about him, and, in the changing of the subject, the rosy flush that was so much a part of her expression, crept over her fair face and lighted up her deep gray eyes until her countenance was glorified, as if her inner consciousness shone through her delicate and expressive features; old Mage observed this blush and speculated on its cause and wondered whether Ruth had found another man more worthy of affection than the one she hoped she had almost forgotten.
When Ruth returned, the next day, to the hospital, she went among the little cots until she came to that one where he lay ... the man she'd helped to rescue from a slow and very painful death; she found him lying wide awake and very thoughtful:
"Tender Heart," he said, "Tender Heart, you've come to me, again; I've longed for you and now you're here beside me."
She rested one of her soft hands upon the cot and his hand searched for hers and found it; then their fingers intertwined and clung together for a moment only, but the memory of that hand-clasp lingered with them forever after; it was as if their very souls had intermingled in that clasping of their hands ... it was as if their spirits swung, together, out ... far out ... beyond the things of earth ... and, then, still farther out and on and up into eternal peace and lasting joy and gladness ... it was as if they had been translated into disembodied spirits while they still remained on earth ... as if a higher and a holier love than any earthly love can ever be had sought them out and found them there within that shadowy hospital ... it was as if they had gone on into the astral world and left their human bodies where they seemed to be themselves ... as if they had been separated from the material surroundings that seemed to be about them.
Ruth blushed until the rosy flush crept up to her brown hair that seemed to frame her face, and looked at the soft fingers that his hand had held and then she smoothed his pillow with them as she said:
"I'm very glad to find that you are better than you were last night. I surely hope that you'll recover very rapidly. I'm told that men like you will soon again be needed. It is reported that another battle will be fought not very far from here."
"I surely hope," he said and said it very earnestly, "I surely hope that I'll be able to take my part in whatever engagement is entered into by our troops, and if, perchance, I should be left again upon a battle-field, I trust that you will come and find me, Tender Heart, I trust that you will find me and, if it pleases you, I hope you'll keep me, Tender Heart."
She blushed again at that and simply said:
"Now you must go to sleep and rest and gain what strength you can, for men like you," she ended, archly, "for men like you are almost always needed very badly."
Ruth Wakefield was no flirt and never had been one; she was quickwitted and she had a wide command of language, and she smiled as she went on upon her rounds among the little cots when she remembered that neither of them really knew the other's name; she liked the name he'd given to her ... she liked the way he said it ... she liked the fine expression of his speaking countenance ... she liked his eyes ... she liked his manly way of meeting whatever came to him with courage and with cheerful readiness to serve the country they both loved ... her heart went out to him in very many ways, and, then, she looked again at those soft fingers that his hand had held ... she seemed to feel again the subtle, unexplainable, electric thrill that crept through all her being at his touch ... that seemed to answer to the look within his eyes ... the accent on his tongue, and, then, she blushed again and went about her work within that shadowy hospital where many strong men lay in bitter pain with renewed courage and with a new and hither-to unknown tenderness.
She stood, at length, beside a cot whereon lay one whose face was hidden while surgeons dressed a gaping wound he had received upon his head; Ruth stopped and gave her scissors that she always carried in the pocket of her apron to the one who needed them for use in cutting away the dark hair that grew along the edges of the wound; it clung in tiny ringlets and was black as night and very soft and thick.... Ruth could not help remembering, that her hands had often strayed among such soft and dark and clinging ringlets, but she shuddered as she thought of them and of Estrella who had deemed herself to be the only woman Victorio Colenzo had ever loved, and, then, she wondered if all men were like to that one she had married thinking him to be as he professed to be ... judging him to be as truthful as she was ... she wondered if the man she had just left would be like that under similar circumstances ... he was ready in his hints at tenderness ... was he, too, perhaps, a gay deceiver?