"Nowthe procession commenced. Lines of solemn monks, with their gray gowns fastened at the waist with rope girdles, came out of their monasteries and reverently followed the particular Madonna worshipped by their order, as she was carried around, standing on a platform carpeted with velvet, dressed sumptuously, like a woman of the world. Some of these Madonnas were covered with jewels richer and in greater profusion than those worn by the Infanta herself. One, our Lady of Montes Serat, was elevated on a platform ten feet long, carried by eight stalwart priests. The platform was carpeted with crimson velvet, ornamented at the sides with heavy bullion fringe. Her black velvet robe was studded with diamonds over the whole length of its ample and flowing train. This swept back to the verge of the platform in heavy folds, while adown the front was one maze of jewels, covering the velvet so thickly that you could scarcely see it. A mantilla of such lace as cannot be bought for gold, fell over her shoulders, and in her stiff handshe carried a marvel of point lace which, with a living person, would have answered for a pocket handkerchief.
"Six tall tapers of white wax shed their refulgence over the image, lighting up all its wealth of jewels, and its sweeping draperies into wonderful magnificence. The platform was strewn with garlands and freshly gathered roses, which perfumed the air as she passed through thousands and thousands who looked upon her with smiles of wonder and adoration.
"Just as this particular Madonna came slowly in sight, a glorious sunset poured its last beams upon us, filling the square with an atmosphere of sifted gold. In the midst of this refulgence, and just as our Lady of Montes Serat was approaching the royal balcony, a strange scene surprised us.
"The worshipers of a rival Madonna, composed of priests in sweeping robes that trailed along the street some ten or fifteen feet, and tall caps, like extinguishers, on the head—crowded so close upon our Lady of Montes Serat, that the whole procession was thrown into confusion. One priest trod on the trailing garments of another, forcing him back against his brethren. Bitter rivalry between the followers of both Madonnas was at work. The two images were crowded together and hustled before the balcony in which the Infanta sat, surrounded by her royal guests; but the priests still in confusion broke line and fell upon each other, dealing blows that might have come from prize-fighters. The guard took alarm, swords flashed from their scabbards. A wild cry arose from the crowd. The tornado of a great panic swept over it, and while we looked on terrified, a cloud of dust, a few troopers riding madly about with drawn swords, and the rival Madonnas, standing stiff and stately before the Infanta's balcony, were all that remained of the crowd, or the pageant.
"The square was empty, but every street leading to it was closed up with frightened people. The Infanta arose,knelt first to one virgin, then to the other, with impartial homage, and one of her officers gave some order from a window of the house. Instantly every lamp in the square blazed into brilliant light, and the people came crowding back rapidly as they had left. The priests fell into line, and the Infanta, sweeping down those balcony steps with her four train bearers, placed herself in front of our Lady of Montes Serat, and led the procession forward in her own person.
"When the panic was at its height, and the rush of people underneath our balcony was like a stampede of wild animals, I felt myself growing faint, and looked around for something to rest against. That instant an arm supported me and a voice whispered, 'Do not be frightened, you are safe.'
"I started from his arms lest he should feel the quick beating of my heart, and replied quickly that I was not afraid.
"He left me then, and I could have cried with vexation at receiving his kindness so ungraciously. What must he think of me?
"While I was blaming myself and wondering how I could redeem this seeming coolness, Mrs. Eaton called James Harrington into the room from which our balcony opened, where she held an animated conversation with him. Lucy remained behind. I noticed that she leaned over the railing and seemed anxious about some one who had evidently been swept off with the crowd, which was then gathering back to the square. Directly I saw her face brighten, and looking downward for the cause saw the young man whom we had met on the steamboat, leaning against a lamp post and looking up to our balcony in an easy, familiar way, that annoyed me. Still I could not withhold some admiration from the man. He certainly was a splendid creature, formed in the perfection of manlystrength, and quite handsome enough to turn the head of a vain girl like Lucy.
"I watched the movements of these two persons listlessly, for the faintness had not quite left me, and they seemed to me like creatures in a dream. I saw Lucy take a note from her bosom and tie it to a spray of orange blossoms which she had been wearing there. This she held a moment carefully in her hands, then leaning over the railing dropped it.
"Had her mother called James Harrington away, that Lucy might be left unwatched, to give this signal to her strange admirer? All this seemed like it. How innocent she looked when James came back to the balcony! No sunshine ever touched a red rose more sweetly than the smile settled on her lips when he came and bent over her chair."
"TheHoly Week is over, carriages once more appear in the streets. The world claims its own again. I have been to a bull fight and am even now shivering with disgust of myself. Still, it was a magnificent spectacle—that grand amphitheatre of beautiful faces, the hilarity and gay confusion, the open homage, the child-like enjoyment. Until these wild, brave animals came bounding into the arena, there was nothing in the scene which any out-door amusement might not exhibit. Indeed, the gathering of an assembly in Spain is full of spirited life. If a woman is beautiful, a hundred voices tell her so as she presents herself to the general gaze. When our party entered the amphitheatre, a general murmur of admiring comments hailed us. Beautiful—superb—fair as a lily—bright as an angel! were the exclamations that followed that lovely creature as she moved to her seat, leaning upon James Harrington's arm. No wonder he looked proud of her!
"Mrs. Harrington did not care to see a scene so revolting, and I would have stayed at home gladly, but they refused to hear of it, reason as I might. It seems as if they were determined to chain me like a slave to this girl's chariot wheels. Well, I can endure it. There must have been thousands of persons present, for the great amphitheatre was full long before the Infanta appeared with her family and her royal guests. She was received with exclamations, and took her seat with a slight bow of recognition and a smile full of eloquent thanks for the popular favor so pleasantly manifested. Two or three lovely children were in the box, evidently eager for the fighting to commence. Soon after the Infanta was seated, a man richly dressed, and of noble presence, strode across the arena, flung his cap on the ground, and made a profound bow to the royal party. The Infanta arose, leaned a little forward and cast a golden key at his feet. This key was to unlock the door which connected the arena with the compartment outside, in which the wild bulls were kept.
"All this time the man had stood with his back toward us. When he stooped to pick up the key and turned from the presence, Lucy Eaton uttered a faint cry, and her mother caught hold of my arm with a grasp that pained me. 'Oh mercy—oh mercy! It is—it is the Duke,' she exclaimed, 'What can he be doing there?'
"'I think it is his place,' I answered in a low voice. 'Hush, I would say nothing about it.'
"I looked at Lucy. She was white as snow, and her eyes dwelt on the man with a frightened stare.
"'Why is he there?' she whispered, shivering perceptibly. 'Tell me, if you can, what it means.'
"'What are you inquiring about?' questioned General Harrington, bending toward us with suave politeness. 'Anything that I can tell you?'
"'Who is that man?' I inquired, observing that Lucy could not speak without bursting into tears.
"'Which man?'
"'That person in the arena, who was just bowing to the Infanta.'
"'Oh that man? He is the chief matadore. The best bull-fighter in all Spain.'
"'A matadore, a bull fighter!' almost shrieked Mrs. Eaton, turning upon her daughter and snatching a moss rose from her bosom where it held the folds of her muslin dress together. 'Fling it away, child. Pitch it after him. The humbug—the impostor—the—the—'
"Here the good woman broke down for want of breath, and rattled her fan open with a vicious twist of the hand, as if she longed to box some one's ears with it.
"I saw that Lucy was troubled and that her lips were quivering. General Harrington had turned his attention to the arena, for that moment the matadore was crossing towards a door in the wall, and the first wild bull was expected momentarily. He was so absorbed that he did not heed Mrs. Eaton's angry exclamations, though her husband did.
"'What is the matter, mother. Why, you will smash that fan to flinders; it cost—'
"'No matter how much it cost,' said Mrs. Eaton; 'I don't think these Spaniards care about that, or anything else but cheating the very eyes out of your head. The impostors!'
"'Why, who has been cheating us, mother?'
"'Never you mind. Oh mercy!'
"Lucy, too, gave a faint scream and clung to me like a frightened child. No wonder. That instant a door in the wall swung open, and a black bull rushed through. With abound or more he plunged into the heart of the arena, tossed his head upwards, and stood motionless surveying the great concourse of people with his flaming eyes, as if making up his mind where to plunge first.
"A shout followed his appearance, for he was a beautiful savage creature, with a superb chest and head, black and glossy as a raven. Ladies clapped their hands and waved their gossamer handkerchiefs in wild enthusiasm, while the general shout rolled upward like thunder. This terrified the creature till he tore up the earth and plunged hither and thither in his madness, bellowing hoarsely through the tumult, and leveling his horns at the crowd as if he burned to toss every one in sight.
"Then the matadores came in, closely dressed, glittering with embroidery and a profuse display of buttons. One carried a red cloak in his hand, with which he taunted and exasperated the bull into hot rage. Then the contact commenced. The Matadores, slight, agile and vigilant, fell to tormenting the noble creature into new wrath. They flung their cloaks over his eyes, they leaped on his back and away again, pricked him with their swords, taunted him from a distance, and, when he made a mad plunge upon them, slipped through some secret door in the wall and laughed at his grave astonishment.
"Lucy looked on all this, fascinated. Tears stood in her eyes, but an eager curiosity shone through them.
"'There must be some mistake,' I heard her murmur. 'He is not among them.'
"She was undeceived. The bull had begun to exhaust his rage, his tormentors had done their utmost, and the people wanted more excitement.Hecame in then, splendid as an Apollo, tall, lithe, powerful. Then followed the lightning play of human intelligence and trained strength against savage impulse. The man was everywhere at the same moment. His sword flashed now here, now there, up anddown like a quiver of lightning. He would entice the animal close to him, and just as his fierce horns were lowered, leap astride his neck, and land, with a bound, ten feet away. Now he darted under him, now made a flying leap over his back, cheered on, and accompanied by waving handkerchiefs, eager hands, and bursts of admiring applause.
"A new feature was added to the scene. Several horses were brought in, blindfolded and old, ridden by inferior matadores. One of these poor creatures was urged up to the waiting bull, which made a rush at his chest with both horns, tore his way to the vitals, and let the heart out, almost heaving the beast from the earth as those murderous horns rent their way out of his body.
"Oh! it was sickening; the smell of the hot blood, the overwhelming bravos, the exultation of delicate women and innocent children, as the infuriated bull plunged his horns, reddened to the frontlet, again and again into that writhing breast. I wish I had never seen it. In fact I could not see clearly, for every thing grew misty from the sick shuddering that fell upon me. I shivered down in my seat and shut my eyes, degraded and full of self contempt, that any thing should have brought me to that horrid place.
"I would have gone home, but the confusion was so great, and the crowd so dense, that I dared not propose it, especially as General Harrington joined heartily in the enthusiasm, and would, I feared, resent any interruption.
"So I sat there, with my head bowed and my face covered, loathing myself and everything around me. A shriek from Lucy Eaton brought me out of this state. Starting up, I saw the man she had called a duke, tossed high in the air, whence he came to the earth with a crash. This stunned him for a moment, but before the bull could follow up its advantage, he sprung to his feet, flung his scarlet cloak over the creature's eyes, and gave the signal for a general attack.
"Out rushed the matadores in a body, armed with javelins and darts, feathered at the ends with fringes of variegated paper, and sharp as steel at the head. These were hurled at the bull, and as each struck through his jetty hide, fire-crackers concealed in the paper ornaments, gave out a storm of noisy fire;—another and another darted through the air, thicker and sharper, till the tortured animal bellowed out his agony in pathetic helplessness, and fell upon his knees exhausted. Then the matadore drew toward the Infanta and seemed waiting for some signal. She smiled, lifted her hand, closing all but the delicate thumb. This was a death signal for the poor brute, who seemed to know that his fate was coming, and staggered up from his knees ready to fight for the last breath of his life.
"Then commenced a fresh onset of death. The bull fought desperately, staggering, reeling, plunging and making fierce attacks with his horns, while the fire-crackers blazed around him, and a hundred javelins quivered in his body. The matadore became cool and cautious as his victim grew more and more frantic. He played with the creature's agony, flitted here and there in the smoke of his torment, pierced his sides with the point of his sword, and flung fresh javelins into the bleeding wounds. The Infanta lifted her thumb again. The Matadore saw it. His sword flashed in the sunbeams like a gleam of fire, fell on the animal's dripping neck, and he sank to the earth, dead.
"More of this happened that day; twelve of those splendid beasts were brought forth to slaughter and be slaughtered one after another. Some, braver than the rest, were sent back alive; but that ornamented sledge dragged off twelve of the finest creatures I ever saw. At last, even the Spanish ladies became weary of this terrible work. As for me, I went home sickened, and so nervous I could not rest."
"WhileI was lying in my room, shocked by the day I had spent, Mrs. Eaton came in, sun-burned, excited, and panting for breath. 'Wasn't it a terrible thing! Such an imposition. To pass himself off for a duke! I declare I could kill him.'
"'But did he deceive you?' I asked.
"'Did he, why of course, the scamp! And poor Lucy liking him so much. She wont believe it now, hardly. He looked so splendid taking up that key and swinging his sword about like a Saracen, Lucy says, just to tantalize me, when I know exactly what he is. But I come to ask a great favor, Miss Crawford. You're the only person that I breathed a word to about it. Supposing you just keep quiet, now, especially to James Harrington. It might do mischief there if you said a word, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to do that. Only think of a daughter of mine almost falling in love with one of them matadore fellows. I tell you it makes my blood boil—but you wont say a word. Poor Lucy would die of shame if you did.'
"'I certainly shall not mention the man to any one,' I answered.
"'That's a good soul. I was sure we might depend on you. Now I'll go and tell Lucy. She's been crying like a baby ever since we come home. I wonder if the fellow will have the impudence to follow us again. The Duke! The impostor, I say,—to look like a nobleman and not be one.'
"How fussy and disagreeable the woman is. But I am too weary for much thought of her or any thing else indeed, yet I cannot sleep.
"Mrs. Harrington lay on the low couch which was her favorite resting place during the day, and I sat beside herreading aloud a new English novel that Miss Eaton had lent me. Presently James came in, and making me a sign not to stop, sat down near one of the windows, as if to listen to the story; but when I glanced at him, I saw by his face that his thoughts were leagues away from any consciousness of the words my voice pronounced.
"I suppose I had no right to wonder whither his fancies had strayed, but I could not help it; and when I looked at him again, I knew that it was no idle reverie which had possession of him, but stern, absorbing thought, for his face looked hard and cold as it so often had done of late.
"I almost lost the consciousness of what I was reading, in the rush of odd fancies that came over my mind. My voice must have grown careless and indistinct, for I heard Mrs. Harrington say:—
"'Don't read any more, Mabel; I am sure you are tired.'
"I felt myself start and color; I colored all the more from annoyance at feeling my cheeks begin to glow, and I could hear that I answered constrainedly:
"'No; I am not tired.'
"'I know by your voice, my dear,' Mrs. Harrington said with her usual thoughtfulness for others. 'It was selfish in me, I should not have allowed you to read so long, but I was so interested in the story that I forgot.'
"I closed the book; it was always very difficult for me to read aloud with any listener besides herself, but she seemed so troubled at what she considered her selfishness, that I said truthfully enough:
"'I did not know that I was tired, it is such a beautiful book that one forgets everything in the interest of the story.'
"'Yes, indeed,' Mrs. Harrington said, smelling at a little bouquet of roses she held in her hand, 'James,' she called in a louder voice, 'have you read it?'
"He started and exclaimed quickly—
"'Did you speak, mother? I beg your pardon, I did not know you were talking to me.'
"'I only asked if you had read this new novel of Bulwer's, that Mabel and I are so delighted with.'
"'Not yet,' he replied, settling back in his chair.
"I could see his face in the mirror; and the effort he made to collect his thoughts and appear to listen while his mother went on talking about the book, was perfectly plain to me.
"'You like it,' he said, absently.
"'My dear James,' she exclaimed, laughing in her pleasant, genial way, 'where are your thoughts this morning? I don't believe you have heard one word I was saying.'
"'Oh yes,' he replied, 'you were saying how much you and Miss Crawford were interested in the book.'
"'I had done with that,' said she, shaking her bouquet at him playfully, 'I was asking you the name of his last work.'
"'Whose? Ah! Bulwer's—I am stupid this morning, I must acknowledge.'
"I was sorry for the sort of embarrassment he displayed—something unusual with him, so strong and self-centered, and I mentioned the name of the romance that had preceded the one we were reading.
"'Of course,' said Mrs. Harrington, 'Mabel's memory never fails! Do you know, James, the faculty she has of retaining names and dates is something marvellous, especially to poor me, who sometimes can scarcely recollect my own age and rightful appellation.
"'One has the opportunity of admiring so many splendid qualities in Miss Crawford,' he answered, in the distant, ceremonious way which he so often employed toward me of late.
"I felt absolutely hurt, silly and childish as it was to care for so slight a thing. I suppose my tell-tale face showed it, for Mrs. Harrington said, teasingly—
"'Really, James, you are very stately and magnificent, this morning! that speech sounded grand and stilted enough to have suited Sir Charles Grandison.'
"He laughed a little, but it sounded so forced that I wondered Mrs. Harrington did not observe it.
"'I told you that I was stupid,' he said, 'so you need not be severe on my poor attempt at a compliment.'
"'I assure your lordship that Mabel does not care for compliments,' continued his mother. 'Do you, my pretty Queen Mab?'
"'I think they are a very poor substitute for real kindness between friends,' I said.
"I could hear that my voice sounded somewhat irritable, but I could not resist speaking, though the instant after, I could have bitten my tongue off for showing so plainly any annoyance at his manner and words. Mrs. Harrington did not notice my little ebullition—was it wounded selfishness and pride, I wonder? She took my remark quite as a matter of course.
"'You are perfectly right,' she said. 'Please to remember that, master James.'
"I saw that he was looking earnestly at me—perhaps he thought that he had hurt me, but I was determined to make no more silly self betrayals. I forced my face to look indifferent, and sat playing carelessly with the bronze paper cutter in my hand.
"'I am sure Miss Crawford knows that I should be only too proud to be acknowledged as her friend, and that I value her intellect too highly for an attempt at empty compliments,' James observed, gravely.
"'Ah,viola l'amende honorable!" laughed Mrs. Harrington. 'Mabel is appeased, and I am content with your explanation.'
"There was a brief silence; I could feel that James was still looking at me, and did not raise my eyes. Mrs. Harrington was playing with her flowers, and when she spoke again had forgotten the whole matter—the merest trifle to her, indeed to anybody possessed of a grain of common sense, but of so much importance to ridiculous, fanciful me.
"'This is so perfect a day,' she said, 'that I think we must go out to drive. Will you go with us, James?'
"'I fear that I shall be unable,' he replied, 'I have several letters to write, and the American mail goes out to-day.'
"'Then we will ask Miss Eaton, Mabel,' said Mrs. Harrington, 'she always likes to go with us.'
"I could have dispensed with this young lady's society, but of course I did not say so, and I had the decency to be ashamed of my unaccountable feeling toward her. She was so very beautiful that to anybody less captious than I had grown, even nonsense from such lips as hers would have been more graceful and acceptable than the wisest remark from almost any other woman.
"'I am sorry you can't go, James,' Mrs. Harrington was saying, when I had finished my little mental self-flagellation for all my misdemeanors and evil thoughts, and could listen to what they were saying.
"'Are you particularly anxious to have me go with you, this morning,petite mia?' James asked, with more animation than he had before displayed.
"'Indeed I am! I feel babyish to-day, and want to be petted! If you don't go, I shall think you are beginning to tire of this poor invalid woman who is so great a trouble to you all.'
"'My mother could never think that,' he said hastily, rising, and moving close to her sofa, where he stood gently smoothing her beautiful hair with his hand.
"'Besides,' she went on, 'these women are just no party at all. Mabel's head is full of the book, and between us, poor little Miss Eaton will have a wearisome drive of it.'
"'I shall go with you,' James answered, 'my letters can wait till the next mail.'
"'We have conquered, Mabel!' cried Mrs. Harrington, with that air of triumph so many women show on such occasions,—a feeling which, I confess, has always been a mystery to me.
"But just now Mrs. Harrington made a sad mistake when she said that we had conquered—as if either of us had anything to do with Mr. James' change of determination! The moment she had announced her intention of inviting our beautiful neighbor, he had discovered that it was easy for him to let his correspondence lie over. Either Mrs. Harrington was very blind, or she chose to ignore a fact that was as palpable as if he had given utterance to it.
"I felt tired and moody, and half inclined to make that ordinary feminine fib, a headache, a plea for not making one of the party. I do not know what I might have said; I dare say something I should have been sorry for, because I felt strangely perverse and irritable."
"Onemorning, while we were arranging a drive for the afternoon, General Harrington entered the room, bringing a letter in his hand.
"'How do you find yourself this morning, fair lady!' he asked, approaching his wife and kissing her hand with his accustomed gallantry.
"'Quite well,' she answered, lifting her eyes to his with that lovely smile of greeting she always had for him, and which made her face so beautiful.
"'That is the most delightful news that could greet me,' he replied, with one of his courtly bows. 'How is my paragon of wards?' he continued, turning to me.
"I answered him pleasantly; he was so elegant and thorough-bred that one was insensibly forced to restrain even pettish thoughts in his presence. But I was abashed all the while, for I noticed that as the General came up to the sofa, James immediately retreated and resumed his seat in the window. He had often of late betrayed those little signs of desiring to avoid the General's society, and they puzzled me very much, for the elder man's behavior to him was always friendly and courteous in the extreme.
"'I need not ask after your health, James,' the General said, good naturedly, 'because it cannot have materially altered since I made the inquiry an hour ago.'
"'What is that letter?' asked Mrs. Harrington, with the curiosity that becomes habitual with most invalids, and speaking so quickly, that James' disregard of his stepfather's remark was not noticeable.
"'It is for you, madam; I could not resist the pleasure of giving it to you myself, for I know how much you like to receive letters.'
"'Thanks! You manage in everything to give me a double pleasure,' she said, taking the letter from his hand and tearing it open.
"'From Zillah,' she said, glancing down the page.
"I saw James start. He caught me looking at him, and quieted himself at once; but I noted his agitation plainly.
"The General was busy wheeling an easy chair near the sofa, and did not catch his wife's remark.
"'From whom did you say it was, my dear?' he asked.
"'From Zillah,' she replied, without looking up.
"'She, indeed,' said he carelessly, 'and what does the poor and rather bad tempered Zillah have to say?'
"He sat down by his wife's side, playing with the flowers that lay on her cushions, and did not observe the quick, angry, defiant look that James shot at him as he spoke.
"'Poor girl,' said Mrs. Harrington, as she finished reading the hurried scrawl, 'she is pining to come and join us; she says she is much better, but so lonely and homesick that she feels it will be impossible for her to get well until she is safe with us again.'
"The General shrugged his shoulders.
"'Your spoiled Zillah is seldom contented,' he said, pleasantly enough.
"'Just read the letter,' Mrs. Harrington said, placing it in his hands. 'I am sure you will be sorry for her—she says she feels like a poor little Italian grey-hound left out in the cold.'
"The General read the letter and returned it to his wife, saying—
"'I suppose she is lonely, and since she is well enough to travel, of course she had better come on at once—she can be of service to you, I dare say, even if she is not strong enough to resume her old duties.'
"'I really want to see her, pretty creature,' Mrs. Harrington said, glancing over portions of the letter again.
"'I feel quite lost without her caprices and bad temper—besides, she always knows exactly what is to be done for me, and does it in the best way.'
"'Only, thanks to Miss Mabel's kindness, you have not had time to miss her,' the General said.
"'Oh, there never was such a nurse as Mabel,' cried she, 'but then I can't quite make a servant of her, willing as she is to sacrifice herself to my whims.'
"'I scarcely thought you regarded the girl Zillah quite as a servant,' said James, speaking for the first time. Therewas something so bitter in his voice, that I wondered they did not notice it.
"'Indeed I do not,' Mrs. Harrington replied. 'She is faithful and loving, and so handsome that it is like having some exotic flower about me.'
"'Mrs. Harrington never forgets what is due herself or others, James, whether they may be dependent or friends,' the General said, in a more reproving tone than I ever before heard him employ towards his wife's son.
"Again James' dark eyes flashed upon him that strange look of anger and defiance.
"'May I see the letter, mother?' he asked, quickly.
"'Certainly,' Mrs. Harrington said, stretching out her hand over the back of the sofa.
"As James took the letter, the General said—
"'Zillah is not likely to have any important secrets to write to your mother.'
"I might—perhaps it was fancy, caused by the suspicion that was in my own mind—but I thought he slightly emphasized the words 'your mother.' No, I am sure it was not fancy, for James' lips shut together in the compressed way they did when he was angry, and a frown gathered on his forehead—he had caught the peculiar tone as I did."
"WhileJames was reading the letter, the General said to his wife—
"'I find that I shall be obliged to go back to Cadiz, so I will bring Zillah home.'
"James crumpled the letter in his hand, and called outin so loud and agitated a voice that Mrs. Harrington absolutely started—
"'I will go back for Zillah, mother.'
"The General turned a little in his chair, glanced at me, then regarded James—his eyebrows slightly raised with an expression of surprise.
"'Upon my word,' said he, pleasantly as ever, 'I scarcely see the necessity for your playingpreux chevalierin this case, James.'
"'Not the slightest,' said Mrs. Harrington. 'But James is always thoughtful for others.'
"'Always,' the General said.
"'I have nothing to detain me here—I have seen Seville thoroughly, and shall be glad to make this journey,' James said, without paying attention to what had passed.
"I felt my cheeks tingling with impatience and indignation. What did this eagerness and solicitude mean? Did he forget how unbecoming it was—did he not remember how this strange, passionate, ill-regulated creature, in spite of her beauty, her marvelous eyes, and her bewitching voice, belonged to a race separated from us by all natural laws! Did he forget that she was a menial—a slave?
"The General was smiling still, and smoothing a long curl of his wife's hair that had broken loose from the comb and fell over the cushion in a shining wave.
"'James is so full of his scheme of becoming a modern Don Quixote, that he did not even hear me say that I would bring Zillah on here,' he said.
"'It strikes me that you are inclined to do Don Quixote yourself, sir,' exclaimed James, and his voice was sharp and harsh.
"'Excuse me—you misunderstand,' replied the General, in a rather drawling, sarcastic tone; 'if I were inclined to emulate Cervantes, here I think my taste is sufficiently patrician for me to display it in some other quarter than toward my wife's domestic.'
"The tone was somewhat sneering, and the speech was a little affected and fatuous, but I knew he said it as a reproof to James, and he deserved it well.
"'I am sure the courier seems the proper person to send back,' Mrs. Harrington said, a little disturbed by this unusual tone between her husband and son. 'Why should'nt he go, General?'
"'You are right, my treasure, as you always are,' he replied. 'But as I began to tell you, I am obliged to return to Cadiz myself.'
"'If you have business there I can transact it for you,' persisted James.
"'Thanks! I have the utmost confidence in your judgment, but this is a matter that I feel inclined to take in my own hands.'
"'Business in Cadiz!' muttered James, ironically.
"His mother did not catch the words, but the General and I did. The General only smiled—he looked a little contemptuous now.
"'Why do you have to go back, dear?' his wife asked.
"'Simply because I got a letter this morning from that stupid banker, Henriquez. He has made a muddle of buying those three pictures we wanted, and that Englishman who was so crazy about them will get the lot after all, unless I go on myself.'
"'Oh, I wouldn't lose that Cano for the world,' cried Mrs. Harrington; 'I have set my heart on having it in my bed room at home.'
"'Precisely the reason I made up my mind to go, dear lady,' said the General, lifting her pretty hand to his lips with exquisite gallantry. 'I am a foolish man, and I cannot bear to have you disappointed in anything—be it of importance or the veriest trifle.'
"'Oh, how good you are,' said Mrs. Harrington, with the grateful tears swimming in her eyes. 'Far—far, far too good to me.'
"'I could not equal your deserts, my best one,' he answered. 'Besides, those three pictures are very valuable—worth double what I can get them for, and as a man who likes to further the cause of art in our new country, I should not feel justified in neglecting this opportunity. Am I not right?'
"'Perfectly,' she said.
"'Miss Crawford thinks so too, I hope!' he asked politely.
"I bowed—I was too much shaken by a world of strange, inexplicable emotions, to trust my voice just then.
"'I can attend to that business easily enough,' James added; 'and you profess to hate travelling.'
"'I shall be upheld by a consciousness that I am performing my duty,' replied the General, laughing. 'No, James, I am convinced that unless I go myself, we shall lose those pictures. I really have, what superstitious people call a premonition, in regard to the matter.'
"'It is useless to prolong the discussion,' exclaimed James, angrily, rising from his chair.
"'Oh quite,' replied the General, 'I am an indolent man, but a perfect Spartan in the cause of duty—pray give me some credit, ladies.'
"'I can only think how I shall miss you,' exclaimed his wife.
"'My dear friend, we shall both have one pleasant anticipation amid the pain of separation—that of meeting soon again.'
"James was walking up and down the room, moody and preoccupied.
"'When shall you go?' Mrs. Harrington asked.
"'This very day—I must lose no time.'
"'And when will you be back?'
"'Within the week; I shall make all haste, you may be sure.'
"'But you will stay in Cadiz long enough to rest,' she said anxiously; 'you must not make yourself ill.'
"'Always thoughtful—always kind!' he half whispered. Then he added aloud—'I shall send for Zillah to join me there, and will bring her on; so you see everything arranges itself admirably.'
"James paused suddenly in his impatient march up and down the room, and said more quietly than he had spoken during the whole conversation—'I will go with you, General—I shall be glad of a little change.'
"'My dear friend, few things could be pleasanter to me than to have your society, but you forget that it is quite out of the question here; you would leave your mother and Miss Crawford alone.'
"I could not keep silence a moment longer—if I had died for it, I must have spoken.
"'We have plenty of friends,' I said; 'we should do very well. Mr. Harrington could have a pleasant trip, and leave us quite satisfied that Zillah would not be carried off by bandits on the road.'
"I did not look at James as I spoke. I felt that I neither colored or showed any emotion—it seemed as if I was only surprised and slightly disgusted at so much discussion concerning a servant.
"'Oh, you must not go, James,' his mother said. 'I should die of fright in twenty-four hours.'
"'I see that it would be out of the question,' returned he, in a voice that wavered between vexation and trouble.
"The General cast another quick glance toward me—that strange fleeting look which I had detected several times before, and which proved to me that the suspicions in my own mind, to which I could scarcely have given a name, in fact but vaguely understood, had a place in his.
"James turned to leave the room; the General had risen and was standing at a little distance from me, bending overa vase of flowers and inhaling their perfume with that love of all beautiful things which was one of his most prominent characteristics.
"In leaving the room, Mr. Harrington had to pass near him, and I distinctly heard the General say—'You surprise me! Imprudent, most imprudent.'
"James passed on as if he had not heard the words, but I saw his face, and I knew by the pale wrath that locked his features and glittered in his eyes, that not a syllable of that quiet remonstrance upon the glaring impropriety of his behavior, had escaped him.
"The General had evidently forgotten that I sat near enough to have overheard his remark, but as he turned and looked at me, I suppose he saw by the expression of my countenance that I had done so. He seemed troubled. I knew that he divined the vague suspicions that disturbed me, and was annoyed to think that any words of his should so clearly have shown me that he shared my ideas in regard to James' singular conduct.
"I left Mrs. Harrington and the General together, for I knew that she would wish to be alone with him to receive his farewell; for it was so seldom that he left her, and her nerves were so fragile and excitable from long illness, that this brief separation and journey were matters of painful import to her.
"But whatever the General's decision in any case might be, it was seen to be right in her eyes; and it was not wonderful that she trusted him so implicitly, for his manner to her was always perfect, his care and attention to her unvarying; besides all, his judgment was seldom at fault.
"I went away to my room; as I passed through the corridor, I heard Lucy Eaton's voice on the landing above, and I hurried on, for I was in no mood to listen patiently to her girlish chatter.
"I was alone for a long hour, and it was a sad, darkwatch that I kept there by myself in that gloomy chamber. The very fact that so many varying suspicions disturbed me, that they were all so vague and shifting, made my reflections full of unrest. But I could settle upon nothing—could form no conclusion.
"Only the other day I had believed that he loved Lucy Eaton—at least that he was captivated by her golden curls, blue eyes, and her pretty childish ways; the weak fascinations that seem to possess such strange power for the strongest men."
"Thenext morning there came a knock at the door; it was my maid. She came to inform me that the General was ready to start, and desired to bid me good-bye.
"I went down stairs and met him coming out of his wife's room.
"'Pray go and comfort her,' he said in a tremulous voice; 'I would not have undertaken this journey if I had thought that she would have felt it so much, though she insists on my going; she is very cheerful now, but I am afraid she will break down when I am gone.'
"'I will do all that I can to comfort her,' I said.
"'I am sure of that! I could not leave her if you were not here. James is fond of his mother—but—well, young men will be young men.'
"I did not attempt to return his smile—I was too indignant with young Mr. Harrington to aid in glossing over his conduct.
"'Believe me, my dear ward,' said the General suddenly,'only a grave reason has made me start on this journey. Good bye—God bless you. Let me find you well and happy when I return.'
"He touched my forehead gently with his lips, and was gone.
"I was about to knock at Mrs. Harrington's door, when I saw James coming down the corridor, evidently going there, too. I turned away and went into the salon. I did not wish even to exchange a word with him then.
"It might have been half an hour after, when Lucy Eaton tapped at the door and opened it before I could speak.
"'I knew you were here alone,' she said, 'may I come in?'
"How pretty she looked, standing there in her dress of thin blue muslin, her golden hair falling about that lovely face which, probably, had never in her whole life been disturbed by a single thought or fancy that could cause pain to another.
"'So the General has gone to Cadiz,' she said, as she came into the room and flung herself in a graceful attitude on the sofa near me. 'How lost dear Mrs. Harrington will be;—we must all try to console her.'
"I was so unreasonable and bad tempered that I fear my first impulse was to ask her what possible right she could have to offer the lady consolation; but I managed to keep back that little ebullition of temper, and answered, instead—
"'He will only be gone a few days; Mrs. Harrington will not have a great deal of time to be lonely.'
"'And then she has you with her, and I can't fancy anybody feeling solitary, dear Miss Crawford, while they can have your society.'
"'Dear Miss Crawford,' was in no mood to accept compliments patiently—they would have had a false ring to myear at that moment, coming even from those whom I knew well and loved, so they were not likely to be accepted with good grace from this comparative stranger. I suppose she would have thought me unkind for considering her so, but I never found it easy to get up the girlish enthusiasm necessary for cementing sudden and violent friendship.
"'That is a very pretty speech,' I said bluntly, 'but it doesn't mean anything at all.'
"Lucy dropped her tiny hands and went off into a peal of laughter that, I must confess, was sweet as a chime of silver bells.
"'You do say the oddest things!' she exclaimed. 'I never knew any one so original as you are, but dear Miss Crawford, though I like it exceedingly myself, do you think—'
"She hesitated, and as I saw she never would finish her sentence unless I asked the desired question, I inquired—
"'Do I think what, Miss Eaton?'
"'That—that gentlemen quite like it. Young girls have to be so particular, you know, or they displease them.'
"'Really,' I said, 'I have never taken the trouble to think about the matter; and to tell you the truth, I fear I should not much care, even if I had.'
"'Ah, to be sure, you are differently situated from so many girls—with your beauty and your great fortune, whatever you say or do will always be thought charming—Oh, dear Miss Crawford, I did not mean that—indeed I did not! Now you are vexed with me, I am sure.'
"'I am not quite bad tempered enough to take offence where none is meant, Miss Eaton.'
"'Bad tempered? Why, I think you have the sweetest disposition I ever knew! Mamma was saying only this morning, that you had a face like an angel.'
"I doubted that, for I was confident Mrs. Eaton had no great prepossession in my favor, but of course I let it pass.
"'I am so heedless,' moaned Lucy; 'I say everything that comes in my head—mamma says she wishes I could acquire a little of your dignity—but I never shall be like you—never.'
"The glance of self satisfaction which she cast in the mirror where her pretty figure was reflected gracefully curled up among the sofa cushions, was extremely amusing to me.
"'I think,' I said, 'that you may congratulate yourself on there being no resemblance between us.'
"'Oh, that was not what I meant,' she replied. 'You are very beautiful, and I am sure nobody would ever say that of poor little me.'
"I thought I had now talked all the nonsense that the most exaggerated idea of courtesy could require, so I said—
"'You must not think me unkind, but—'
"'Unkind?' she repeated. 'I never knew you to have an unkind thought. Whatever you do or say would always be considered charming.'
"'More pretty speeches,' said I, trying to laugh, for I had the grace to feel a little ashamed of my ill humor. 'You quite overwhelm me with them to-day—let me try my skill. Do you know that your dress is particularly becoming, and that you are looking your very loveliest to-day?'
"'Oh, my! no,' returned she, glancing at herself in the opposite mirror. 'I don't think the dress pretty at all—it's mamma's taste—and I am sure I am looking horribly. I told mamma I would not come in, only I was certain there was nobody here beside you.'
"'I have not seen Mrs. Harrington since the General left,' I said, by way of trying to bear my part in the conversation more than from any other reason; 'but her son is with her.'
"'Mr. Harrington is so devoted to his mother,'exclaimed Lucy. 'Mamma says that he is a model, and that so good a son could not fail to make—'
"She broke off with a little attempt at embarrassment, that was rather a failure.
"'Would make a good husband, you mean, I suppose,' returned I. 'That is the old proverb, I believe.'
"'Yes—but I hesitated—I'm so foolish. It always seems immodest to name such things outright.'
"'I am sorry that I am immodest,' said I, 'but straight-forward words are natural to me, and I utter them abruptly sometimes.'
"'I suppose I really ought to go and see if I can do anything for Mrs. Harrington. She is probably alone by this time.'
"At that moment the door opened, and James looked into the room. He did not see Lucy Eaton where he stood, and said coldly enough—
"'Miss Crawford, if you have leisure, my mother would like to see you.'
"'Certainly,' I said, rising.
"'And I must go back,' cried Lucy, springing up in a flutter. 'Mamma will positively think I am lost.'
"'Good morning, Miss Eaton,' James said; 'pray excuse me. I supposed Miss Crawford was alone. I beg pardon of both for having interrupted you.'
"'Oh, there was no interruption,' said Lucy, moving toward him with her thin dress sweeping out like a cloud. 'We were through talking, and what do you suppose it was all about?' she added coquettishly.
"'I really have no idea,' he answered, with a degree of indifference that I wondered she did not notice.
"'I am sure I shall not tell you,' she said, tossing her curls. 'We'll not tell, will we, Miss Crawford?' I was busy putting away some books that had been lying on a chair, and so had an excuse for being conveniently deaf.
"'Since you are so determined, it would be useless for me to attempt to persuade you,' James replied, and I knew that he was trying to be polite in order to hide how it bored him to stand there and talk nonsense.
"I think that a few days before it would have pleased me to have this proof that Mr. Harrington did not care so much for pretty Lucy Eaton, but it brought me no satisfaction now. Straightway, as if something had whispered it in my ear, came the reason for his indifference. His mind was so completely engrossed by thoughts of our conversation about the girl Zillah, that there was no room for other ideas to find a place.
"The bare idea turned me faint with indignation and disquiet. The worst thing of all—the hardest to bear—was to lose my respect for him; and he was forcing me rapidly to do that.
"If he had loved Lucy Eaton, it would have been an honorable affection, such as every man has a right to choose for himself; but in this entanglement, which I was more and more convinced fettered his feelings and movements, there could be nothing but secresy and dishonor.
"I wanted to go away—to get beyond the sight of his face—the sound of his voice. As I stood there listening to their idle conversation, I felt that I almost hated the man. With his wicked secret on his soul what right had he to bring himself into the presence of innocent women, and assume a position of equality with them. I knew how foolish it all was—I tried to think that the meanness was in my entertaining such suspicions, but I could no more change my feelings than I could banish my doubts.
"I walked to the door; as James stepped aside to allow us to pass, I caught one strange, troubled look from his eyes, which I could not understand. Did it mean that he believed I had divined his secret, and was appealing to my generosity for silence?
"There was no time to think about it. Lucy was holding me by the sleeve and saying—
"'I don't believe you have heard a syllable Mr. Harrington has said. His mother wants us to go out driving with her toward sunset.'
"'So Mrs. Harrington told me this morning.'
"'But you did not mention it.'
"'No, because she spoke before she knew of her husband's journey, and I thought she might not feel inclined to go out.'
"'I am sure I shall be delighted,' Lucy said. 'Do you mean to take the other seat, Mr. Harrington?'
"'If you permit.'
"'Oh, my! I'm sure it's not for me to say! But I know your mother never half enjoys herself unless you are present, and really, one feels so much safer driving when there's a gentleman along. One never knows what these dreadful Spanish coachmen may do.'
"'I believe ours is very trusty,' James replied. 'Please don't hint your fears to my mother, or she would not drive again while she is here.'
"'Oh, of course not! Any way, I did not mean anything—I always speak without thought! Mamma says my head is no better than a feather. Isn't that cruel of her, Mr. Harrington?'
"'You can console yourself by being certain that she does not mean it.'
"'Oh, I don't know! Mamma has a great admiration for dignified, stately creatures, like our dear Miss Crawford. She says I will be nothing but a spoiled little kitten all my days.'
"James looked so impatient of all this nonsense, that I was amused in spite of myself. I went away to his mother's room, and left him to free himself from Miss Eaton the best way he could."
"Mrs. Harringtonwas lying on her sofa when I entered. She looked up and smiled cheerfully, but I could see that she had been crying.
"'I sent for you, dear, because James wanted to go out for a while,' she said. 'Some way I don't just like being left alone—you don't mind sitting with me?'
"'You know I like it, Mrs. Harrington.'
"'You're a dear, good girl, Mabel! I never can be grateful enough to you for all your kindness and patience with me.'
"I kissed her forehead but did not answer.
"'Toward evening we'll go out to drive,' she said, 'and take that little Lucy with us.'
"'Yes; Mr. Harrington gave her your invitation. Shall I go on with our book now?'
"'Oh yes, do; I am wonderfully interested in it.'
"I had left the novel in thesalon, and went back to get it. As I opened the door, James was pacing up and down the room, and the face he turned toward me was pale and troubled.
"'I came for my book,' I said, and began searching for it among the volumes on the table.
"'Can I help you?'
"'Thanks—no—here it is.'
"How different it all was from the days—so far off and faded they seemed now—when we had conversed like friends, with neither restraints or concealment between us!
"Now he was reserved—distant, and I could feel that my manner was absolutely cold and haughty. I had reached the door when he came hurriedly toward me, saying—
"'Miss Crawford!'
"I stopped.
"'What is it, Mr. Harrington?'
"I knew my voice sounded icy—he looked at me, and the odd, troubled look came over his face again.
"'I only wished to ask if you were going to my mother,' he said in a hesitating, embarrassed way, very unusual with him.
"It was not true; he had meant to speak of something entirely different. I have wondered since if my frigid manner and lack of sympathy prevented him. Yet what could he have said—there was no possibility of his bringing even the slightest allusion to his trouble before me.
"'Certainly I am,' I said.
"'I have to go out,' he continued; 'I will be back by the time you wish to drive.'
"'Very well; but I assure you as far as I am concerned, I have no fear that the coachman cannot manage the horses without difficulty.'
"He colored slightly—offended, I suppose, by my tone and my indifference.
"'My mother desired me to accompany her,' he said, coldly, 'so I shall be obliged to force myself upon your society.'
"'Are you not too modest in your estimate of yourself?' I asked with a laugh, that even to my own ears, sounded so harsh and mocking, that I scarcely recognized it as my own.
"He gave me another of those quick, strange glances. It was too late to attempt to soften my judgments or opinions now, by looks or words. While hating myself for the thoughts that tormented me, I could neither return to my old faith or believe in the evil that disturbed it.
"'I fear I hardly appreciate satire,' he said, gravely.
"'No!' returned I, laughingly. 'You must cultivate a taste for it—read the old English humorists.'
"'Certainly Miss Crawford seems to have been studying the art lately with great diligence, if one may judge from the results.'
"'That is a somewhat doubtful compliment, still I must take it for granted that you meant it to be one,' said I. 'But I cannot wait to listen—Mrs. Harrington is wondering what I am about, I dare say.'
"'And we are not friends any longer? 'he asked with a sudden change of manner, extending his hand as he spoke.
"'The best of friends, certainly,' I answered, 'only I have not time just now to talk about the matter.'
"I pretended not to notice his offered hand, and ran away down the corridor. I glanced back as I reached his mother's door. He was still standing where I had left him—he was looking after me. All this seemed needless duplicity, and only made me feel more harshly toward him. I would not have touched his hand then for the world. Why did he wish to keep up the farce of trying to make me believe that my opinion was of consequence to him? Perhaps from that absorbing vanity which so many men are said to possess, which makes them unwilling to suppose that any woman in the world is absolutely indifferent to them.
"I went back to Mrs. Harrington, and sat reading to her for a long time. Then my maid came to help her dress—we had both forgotten how late it was. The carriage was already at the door.
"Lucy Eaton was ready when we sent for her, and in the salon. Mr. Harrington joined us, so we went out for our drive. It was almost sunset, one of those glorious days that it seems to me only Spain can show in their full perfection. Italy even falls short. There is a softness, a witchery, an absolute intoxication about them, which must be felt in order to be understood; but any one who has enjoyed them would say with me, that no words could be found to express their wonderful charm.
"A rather dull, silent drive, though Lucy Eaton talked a great deal; and James, who was sitting beside her, of course, made an effort to talk and to appear interested. But it was evident that it was an effort—so evident that I wondered how she could help seeing it.
"Mrs. Harrington was in one of her most quiet moods, and as for me, I leaned back in the carriage and kept my mouth resolutely shut. I am sure I must have looked both obstinate and disagreeable, but I could not help it—in fact, I am afraid that I did not much care.
"I was mortally tired; I could not tell why. Certainly a few hours of reading aloud could not have reduced me to a state of such extreme weariness, and I had made no other exertion; but body and mind I felt utterly prostrated, as if I should never be rested or strong again.
"I was glad enough when the drive was over. I must have shown in my face something of the lassitude, for even Lucy, who was the most thoughtless and unobservant of human beings said, as we got out of the carriage—
"'You look so pale, Miss Crawford; I am sure you cannot be well.'
"'Only dreadfully tired,' I said; 'I shall have a cup of tea and go straight to my room.'
"Mrs. Harrington was inclined to be anxious about me, but I succeeded in convincing her that there was no occasion.
"'I only want a long sleep; I was wakened very early this morning, and there is so much of the dormouse about me, that if I am cheated out of a single half hour of my usual allowance, I am fit for nothing all day.'
"I knew James was to stay with his mother; and as Lucy Eaton seemed inclined to spend the evening too, I drank a cup of tea and went away to my room.
"I undressed myself and lay down on my bed, too thoroughly worn out to sit up longer, but I could not sleep.I felt as if I would give the world to have fallen into a slumber so heavy that it could not have been disturbed even by a dream, till the new day came in.
"But not even a sensation of drowsiness would come. There I lay and watched the full moon soaring up the purple heavens—thinking—thinking, and yet so longing to be free from thought—and oh, so tired, so tired.
"Many a time I have passed a week that did not seem so long as that night! I had a horrible feeling that it would never come to an end. I felt as if time had ceased suddenly, and I had been flung into the pulseless hush of eternity, and was to be left alone there forever, with my dreary meditations for company and punishment."