The heart of Julia sank as she gazed around; and she felt that the least addition to the sense of dread and half superstitious awe which now beset her, would be too much for her powers of endurance. Yet, while she thought thus, another itemwasadded—it was the sharp and sudden crack of two rifles, discharged, almost simultaneously, in the small amphitheatre from which they had just departed.
She started in her saddle as if she had received a blow, and would have fallen from her seat had not her husband thrown his powerful arm around her, and supported her frame on the back of her palfrey.
"It is nothing," he whispered; "it is nothing only the poor mules which we were compelled to shoot, as we could not bring them with us, and dared not leave them to follow, and, by following, betray us."
"More blood!" cried Julia, bursting into a paroxysm of tears; "more blood! my God! when will this have an end?"
"You should have thought of that Julia," replied the young soldier, sharply and bitterly, "before you married a soldier. That done, such thoughts are too late."
"Alas, alas! they are, indeed, too late."
"And do you cry alas! for that, false girl?" exclaimed Gordon, in so loud a tone that his words reached the ears of the Partisan, who instantly reined back his horse, and laying his hand kindly on the young man's arm, said, in a low voice:
"Oh, peace, peace, for shame! Consider what she has borne, what she has yet to bear—and all for you."
"I wish I were in my grave," she answered, raising her mild, soft eyes to meet his. "I never shall be happy more till I lie in it."
"Nay, lady, speak not thus," returned the veteran, warmly. "Death, at the best, is a dread mystery. In God's good time, we must all come to that; to His good wisdom, therefore, let us leave it. And, oh, by no levity or petulance of ours, let us call down His anger on our heads. But, I assure you, it is no gloomy place, no fearful or dark abiding-place, that I hope to conduct you, but to a sort of fairy bower, inhabited," he added, assuming a tone of gayety which he perhaps scarcely felt "by what I thought, till I met your blue eyes, Mistress Gordon, the loveliest woman I e'er looked upon."
Despite herself, Julia Gordon was interested and amused, and yielding, womanlike to the immediate impulse, she cried: "What! a fairy bower, and a fair woman, in this howling wilderness?"
"Aye, lady, even so! and thereby hangs a tale, which, as you will be thrown, I think, upon her hospitality, and as it may beguile the tediousness of our night-march, I will relate to you, if you choose to hear it."
"Oh, tell it, by all means, Partisan," cried Gordon, eager to atone for his late petulance, and to divert his wife's apprehension; "I hope it is a love tale."
"'Cato's a proper person'" answered Delacroix, laughing. "You see I quote, lieutenant. But here goes my story.
"It was a little better than a year ago," he began, "that I first visited this part of the country, which I know—every pass, glen, and pond, and rivulet of it—as if it were my own garden. All then was violence, and fierce, irregular strife, and vengeful indiscriminate warfare and confusion.
"I was alone on this good horse which I now ride, and armed as you now see me. At times I would join this or that band of rangers, when on some actual service which promised excitement and the chance of action, I for the most part scouted by myself.
"On this occasion, however, I had a special duty to perform, being charged with dispatches from the general to the chief of the band, which will not name, nor otherwise designate, except as being ever the most daring and successful in the onslaught, although too often the most merciless in the moment of victory."
"Well, it was a lovely summer's evening, as ever shone out of Heaven, whenI passed through this belt of forest; not exactly here, or in this direction, for I came in farther to the southeastward, and approached the clearing which surrounds the plantation, whither we now are bound. When suddenly, as I rode along, following the track of the horse hoofs, which I could easily distinguish in the mossy greensward, and judging by many certain indications that I could not now be far behind them, though I heard nothing to denote their vicinity; when suddenly—I say, I caught the distant sounds of merriment, and revelry; the light cadences of the guitar, the merry laugh of girls, the deep rich voices of the male singers, in the harmonious Spanish tongue, and all the glee and anxiety of fandango.
"I felt a momentary sense of pleasure, for I knew that I was in time, which I had feared might not be the case; and that the attack, which it was my mission to prevent or at least to render bloodless, had not as yet taken place. The next instant a sudden doubt, a great fear fell upon me. How could it be that I should be so close to the rancho and the band, of which I was in pursuit, yet closer, but unseen, unheard and unsuspected. I knew that not a moment must be lost. That even now the rangers must be stealing with ready arms upon their victims; that even now the doom of the gay lancers must be sealed, unless my presence should arrest it. I gave my good horse the spur, and throwing the rein upon his neck, galloped at the top of his speed along the intricate and mazy wood-track.
"Never, in all my life, did I spur so hard; and never did a road seem so long, or so devious; nor was this the effect of imagination only; for I have since ascertained by actual inspection although the distance, as the bird flies from the spot, where I first heard the music, to the rancho whence it proceeded, is but a short mile, the road by which alone you can reach it, measures three at the least, winding it to and fro to avoid pathless brakes and deep barrancas, and is exceedingly deep and miry.
"The sound of my horse's tramp, splashing through the deep clay, was already heard by the lancers, and heard, alas! by their ambushed foes, when I fear it spurred to accelerated action; when suddenly from the wood to my left, the shrill blast of the bugle rose piercingly upon the night air, and was answered by a second at a little distance. There was an instant's pause, breathless and awful as the lull that precedes the burst of a thunderstorm; and then a long loud shout burst out on all sides, and the quick running rattle of a hundred rifle-shots fired in quick succession. God! what a shriek succeeded! And then the clash of blades, and the blasphemies and yells of the charging Texans, and the deep oaths and dying groans of the slaughtered Spaniards and the howling of hounds and mastiffs; and, above all, piercing my very brain, the maddening screams of women pealed up in horrid dissonance to the peaceful heavens, which, in a moment afterward, were crimsoned with the glare of the rushing flames, making the twilight scenery of the calm forest lurid and ruddy as the fabulous groves of hell!
"When I heard that tremendous uproar, and saw the outburst of that furious conflagration, I spurred my horse the faster, and at last, issuing from the forest, came upon such a scene of horror, blood and devastation, as I trust it may never be my fate to look upon again.
"The rancho or country dwelling-house which had been attacked was of unusually large dimensions, consisting of many buildings, with barns, stables, cattle-folds, and out-houses of every kind.
"Suddenly a pistol shot or two startled me, followed by a shout and the clashing of swords from a distant quarter of the garden.
"I was still mounted, and with the speed of light I galloped toward the spot whence those sole sounds of human life proceeded. Across the smoothly-shaven lawn and luxuriant flowerbeds I drove my charger recklessly. I came up. I was yet in time! It was a small, low building of two rooms only, the inmost of which had windows reaching to the ground, secured with jalousies, and perfectly embowered by the rich leaves and vagrant tendrils of a hundred climbing parasites.
"And this lone bower, evidently the abode of some Spanish beauty, was now the last citadel of the hapless inhabitants, mercilessly attacked and desperately defended. It was fortunate for those within it that the Texans had discovered it from the court-yard, with which it communicated only by one door in a massive wall of stone—all its windows opening into the secluded quarter of the garden, which they had not as yet discovered.
"From the court-yard, separated from the garden in which I stood by the high and massive wall I have named, the shouts and rush of armed men came clearly to my ears; and, by the English tongue, the wild oaths, and the bitter denunciating, I readily perceived that it was the band of whom I was in pursuit, and that they were forcing their way into the building, in despite of all opposition. Still it was evident to me, by the silence which prevailed in the inner room—opposite to the casements of which I stood—that this last sanctum was yet unforced, though the rapid discharge of pistol and rifle shots, and the clash of rapier and bowie-knife at the door, announced that its security was menaced, and could not certainly be maintained many minutes longer.
"There was not a second to be lost. Springing down from my horse, with one pistol in my left hand, a second in my belt, my good broad-sword in my right hand, and my wood-knife between my teeth, I drove the frail jalousies asunder with one blow of my foot, and stood the next moment in the scene of terror. And God of mercy! what a scene that was! Should I live centuries I never can forget it. It was but a second that I gazed around me; yet in that fleeting second I took in more minute details than I could recount to you in an hour.
"The chamber was the sleeping-room of some young female. Yet this spot was already the abode of death—might even be the scene of outrage worse than death.
"On the low, virgin bed was stretched—where it had been hastily deposited by the alarmed bearers—the lifeless corpse of an old man—an old Spanish gentleman. A small, round, livid hole in the centre of his forehead, surrounded by a discoloured spot, and the blood which had flowed from the back of his head and deluged all the cambric pillow-covers, showed plainly that he had fallen by the unnerring missile of a Texan rifle. I learned afterward that he was killed, in the very act of offering hospitality, by the first shot discharged that day, on his own threshold; and I do not regret that the perpetrator of the atrocious deed fell, that same day, by my hand and this good weapon.
"But to proceed. On the floor, close to the window by which I made my entrance, lay stretched an aged woman, the wife apparently of him who slept unconscious—happy that he was unconscious—of the horrors which surrounded him. She, too, had been struck down as I judged, not a moment before I entered, by a chance bullet; for she still breathed a little, although life was fast ebbing from her veins in spite of the efforts of the loveliest girl my eyes had then looked upon, who knelt beside her, seemingly unaware of the fierce uproar which was raging, nearer and nearer every moment, in the adjoining apartment; the door of which stood wide open, allowing the horrid din, the hideous imprecations, and the blue sulphurous smoke of the death-shots, which rang incessantly without, to force their way, unhindered, into that quiet chamber.
"I said that one quick glance showed me all this, and, to truth, I had not leisure for a second, for I was not well within the chamber when a tall young Spaniard staggered back to the threshold of the door, and, discharging a pistol at the Texans while in the very act of dropping, fell headlong on the floor upon his back, his left hand, which still grasped the yet smoking pistol, striking the ground within a few inches of the feet of that fair girl. She started at the dreadful interruption, and, for the first time becoming aware of my presence, uttered a long wild shriek; and, believing that her hour had come, arose to her feet with an effort, and laying her hand on her bosom, said, in a low, sweet voice, in the Spanish tongue, 'Strike, if you will; but, in the name of the most Holy Virgin, harm not an orphaned virgin!'
"Alarmed by her cry, a young gentleman richly dressed, who was defending the door, with rapier and dagger, with all the valour of despair, and whose back had been turned toward us, looked around quickly, and as he did so received a sharp wound in the breast from a Texan knife. The murderous weapon was raised to repeat the blow, when I seized him violently by the shoulder, cast him back into the middle of the room, crying, 'Amigo,' and thrust myself into his place, confronting alone the infuriate assailants.
"The men knew me in an instant, but their blood was up, moreover; and several of them to the intoxication of heated passions and unbridled license had added the intoxication of wine; quantities of which had been found on the premises, and had been drunk without stint.
"It was in vain that I called on them to hold, and demanded their captain. My answer was, that they were all captains there alike, and would take no command from any, coupled to an insolent warning to take myself out of harm's way if I were wise, before worse should come of it.
"A moment or two before he reached the spot, he was informed of my coming, and of the resistance I had met from his men. There was blood on his face, on his hands, on the blade of his sabre, which he bore still unsheathed. But so soon as his eye fell upon the group opposing me, and saw that I was fighting on the defensive, it seemed positively to flash fire—his white cheek gleamed with a red unnatural hectic—and he actually gnashed his teeth with rage. 'Rascals! Dogs! Mutineers!' he shouted. 'Do you dare to resist an officer? Down with them, Pierre; down with the dogs! Spare them no longer! Give them the steel,' and suiting the action to the word, as the hindmost man of the party, turned aghast at finding himself as it were between two fires, he threw himself upon him, and ran his sword through his body. The rest flung down their arms, and with some difficulty I obtained their grace, for he would hear at first of nothing but drum-head, court-martial, and immediate execution.
"And now, my tale is told. That bower is the sole relic of a once rich and noble residence—that fair, pale girl is, with the sole exception of her brother, who was the wounded youth I mentioned, the last scion of a race as noble as ever came from the shores of old Castile."
"But, tell me," exclaimed Julia, who had listened rather impatiently to the late discussion—"her brother!—what became of her brother who was wounded—whom you saved?"
"What could become of him? He pulled his sombrero over his eyes, buckled his father's sword to his side, and his good spurs to his heel, took lance and lasso, backed his best horse, and never since has given quarter to a man who speaks with an English tongue. I would not bet a dollar that he would spare my life, if I fell into his hands in action."
"And where is he now, or how engaged?" asked Gordon.
"Since Romano Fallon's troop has been broken up, he is Padre Taranta's right hand man. He is the most dangerous enemy America now has in all Mexico."
"And it is to his sister's dwelling that you are leadingme?" asked Julia, in astonishment.
"Even so, lady. If once you cross her threshold, you are safe against all the force of Mexico, until such time as we can bring you succour, or a flag under which you may enter the lines."
THE RUINED RANCHO.
The moon by this time had risen, and already far above the horizon was beginning to pour her light into the shadowy recesses of the forest.
Along the road they travelled, and although advancing only at an easy ambling canter, had traversed something better than twenty miles, when the distant barking of a large dog was distinctly heard by all the party, and within a fewminutes after that sound became audible, the advanced dragoon, who was a hundred or two yards ahead of the party, reined up and informed the Partisan that a heavy body of horse were coming down the road rapidly toward them.
Pierre halted, and telling Julia that there was no danger, and desiring the men not to stir from the spot, or speak, or call out, whatever they might hear or see, dismounted from his horse, cast the rein to a dragoon, and then hurried back on foot, as fast as he could, directly toward the track which they had just left.
"Just as I thought, guerillas," muttered the Partisan to himself. "It is Juan de Alava's squadron, for a thousand."
The squadron was perhaps ten minutes or a quarter of an hour passing him, for there were, as he had conjectured by the sound, while they were yet at a distance, above a hundred of them—in fact, he reckoned about a score beyond that number—and they rode in very open order, and not much faster than a foot pace.
Pierre listened to every word that fell from their lips.
The next glance showed him that his life had not been worth a dollar's purchase had he fully arisen to his feet, for he needed nothing to tell him that the eyes of the two who now passed him—eyes wandering suspiciously at every step of their horses through the forest about them—were very different to encounter from those of the mere troopers who had hitherto passed by him.
These two men were of awildlydifferent aspect from the rest, and from each other also, though one of them was clad, except that the materials were richer, in the same costume with the men who preceded him.
The other, who rode a little the foremost of the two, and the nearest to the Partisan, was a little old shrivelled man. Yet within that frail and meagre frame, hardened as it was, and exercised into a mere mass of compact bone and sinew, it was easy to perceive that there resided a world of untamed youthful spirit, and all the strength of manhood.
"Now, Padre," exclaimed the younger, "for the love of God, let us set spurs to our horses and get the troop forward at a quicker pace. At this rate, we shall not reach the open ground before day-break; and, in that case, they will have the start of us."
"Not so, not so, Juan," replied the old man, in a clear, hard voice. "If our information be correct, and there be a lady with them, as I doubt not it is, they will have halted for the night, and the later we come upon the ground, the more chance of finding them."
They continued speaking as they rode along; but these were all the words that reached the ears of the Partisan. No more did he require, however, to inform him of all that he wished to know.
So soon as the clatter of their passage had died away into the ordinary silence of the woods, the Partisan hurried back to join his friends, who were awaiting his return in no small anxiety, at least, not to say trepidation.
"All is well," he exclaimed, as soon as hecameinto ear-shot of the little party; "all is well. It is Padre Taranta and young Juan de Alava, and troop. They are in search of us, too."
They then all hastened back to the main road, and cantered forward at a better pace than they had as yet ventured on trying. Half an hour's ride brought them to the banks of the rivulet which divided the clear grounds that surrounded the once splendid estate from the wild forest.
A minute or two afterward, however, as the hoofs of their horses began to clatter on the pavement, a fierce baying broke upon the stillness of the night, and two huge sheep-dogs, of the far-famed Mexican breed, came bounding out, furious, as if to attack the intruders.
But the Partisan soon quieted them; and then, as if aroused by the uproar, some one was heard to stir within the rancho, a light flashed through one of the casements, which was immediately thrown open—a loud voice hailing to inquire who came so late.
"Friends, friends!" cried the Partisan, in the Spanish tongue. "It is I, Sanchez; it is Pedro, the Forester."
"Thanks be to God!" shouted the old man, who had spoken from within; "welcome, senor. Wait till I open the door for you."
The lattice was pulled to, as he ceased speaking; but they could hear him hallooing within to arouse his mistress and the scanty household.
"Ho! senorita, senorita Marguerita; he, Pedro the Forester, Pedro el Salvador!"
A moment afterward, the bolts were withdrawn and the gate thrown open, and the lady, with her conductors, entered the ruined rancho.
The first sight which met the eyes of Julia Gordon, as she crossed the threshold of the door, and stood within the hall of that lonely dwelling, was the figure of a young, delicate, tall girl, who struck her, at the first glance, as being the very loveliest creature she had ever looked upon. And indeed she was exceedingly lovely.
In her left hand she carried a small lamp, which was the only light in the large apartment.
It seemed that she had not distinguished the words of old Sanchez, when he shouted to arouse her from her slumbers; for, as the Partisan advanced, who had stood hitherto in the back-ground, and had been concealed by the darkness which pervaded the whole room. Marguerita sprang eagerly forward to greet him.
"You! you!" she cried, fervently; "do my eyes tell me truly? Is it, indeed, you? Lord of my life! friend of my soul! preserver of my honour! is it, indeed, you, Pedro el Salvador. Oh, I am happy—oh, very, very happy."
And, as she spoke, in the intensity of her passionate feeling, she clasped her snowy arms about the rough soldier's neck, and letting fall her Madonna-like head on his iron shoulders, burst into a flood of tears.
"Nay, nay!" exclaimed the gallant rover, gently disengaging himself from the innocent girl's embrace; "nay, nay! weep not, sweet Senorita, this is no time for tears, for I have come to ask a favour—a favour as great as the lives of us all."
"Ask formylife, rather," she answered, emphatically, suffering the tears to trickle down her cheeks unheeded, "for it is yours; ask for my soul, you should have it, were it mine to bestow."
"Impossible, indeed, Marguerita," replied the Partisan; "impossible, indeed, that either I should ask, or you grant, were it to save a world. But, listen to me, and first look upon this beautiful young woman."
"Add one word more, Don Pedro; say that she isyourwife," said the girl in a singular tone of half-resentful vehemence, which Pierre did not then comprehend.
"She is the wife of my friend, Lieutenant Gordon, lady," he replied; "no volunteer, I assure you, but one of May's dragoons."
"Pardon me," she said, turning to Julia, "pardon me, dear lady; but at times I am half distraught, and my mind wanders, I know not how or whither, since—since that day—buthehas told you, doubtless. In one word, you are welcome. You are safe as if you were within the temple of your God. You are alone, you are in danger,heloves you, and I doubt notyoulove him; and I, Marguerita de Alava, swears it, by all the saints of Heaven, that I will die before one hair of your head, one nail of your finger, be injured. But this," she continued, after a moment's pause, "this is poor hospitality. Without there! Sanchez, Estefania, bring lights, and wine, and pile up the fire; the nights are chilly here among our forests."
The old shepherd, who had been awaiting her commands without, marvelling evidently at the long delay ere he was summoned, appeared instantly, bearing a pair of tall waxen candles, almost torches in size, in two massive silver candle sticks of different patterns, but of great value.
The Partisan then left the room for a minute or two, in order to give some instructions to the dragoons; for, in the present crisis Gordon had delegated the command to him; while the young husband drew near to the stove, unwilling to quit Julia, and more than half suspicious of the Spanish lady's motives.
So soon, however, as the girl's eye fell upon her own scanty attire, revealed as it was now by the bright lustre of the candles, she started, as if she had but that instant remembered how slenderly she was clad; blushed crimson, and raising both her hands to conceal her half-uncovered bosom, turned quickly, and fled with a swift step into the inner chamber.
"She is jealous of you, Julia," said Gordon.
"Jealous of me, Arthur?" she exclaimed, blushing deeply as she said the words; and he observed the blush, but observed not the indignant tone in which she spoke.
"Is that a blush of consciousness, or of shame, Julia?" he said, after a moment's pause, gazing at her sternly.
"Of indignation!" she answered, vehemently, her soft blue eyes flashing fire as she answered him. "Of indignation, sir, that any man should dare use such words, entertain such thoughts of me. Yes, Arthur Gordon, she is both in love and jealous. I saw that at a glance; and I will tell you something more; she isnotjealous without a cause. Is your glance answered? For the man whom she loves, doesnotlove her, anddoeslove me."
The young man spoke not, stirred not, answered not. He stood abashed, crest-fallen, dumb before her. Conviction was borne in upon his soul by every word she uttered.
"Now listen to me, Arthur Gordon. I trust, I know, I thank my God! I am too proud, if not too pure, ever to do the thing that should make me know what shame is. But, mark me: if there be aught on earth which alienates love, it is to be suspected of not loving. If there be aught on earth that engenders evil thoughts in the heart, it is to be suspected capable of evil thinking. If there be aught on earth that makes a woman doubt herself, it is to be doubted by him who should sustain her; if once she doubt herself, others will soon have cause to doubt, to despise her. If I were not so proud, I should say to you, therefore, 'Make me not that which you would not have me!' Iamtoo proud, too strong, too confident in the right to say so. But Idosay, 'Make me not scorn you, cast you away from me,hateyou.' I could do all these things, Arthur Gordon, and, though they kill me, Iwilldo them, if ever more I hear from your tongue or see in your eye a doubt of my honour—of my love. I have said enough—should have said too much had I not seen in you aforetime the germs of this folly, which, if not nipped in the bud, will make you, will make both of us indeed wretched. Now I will go and join our hostess; and do you seek the Partisan and decide upon our future movements."
He raised his eyes slowly to meet her glance, and as he met it no longer fiery or indignant, but full of confidence and love, a faint smile played over his lips, and he stretched out his arms half timidly toward her, with this one word:
"Julia!"
And she refused not the proffered embrace, but fell on his bosom and kissed him tenderly; and then withdrawing herself gently from his arms, said, with her own bright, beaming smile:
"Now go—go your way, silly boy—and beware how you let that noble man perceive your folly."
"He should not, for my life!" answered the young dragoon, as with a light heart, a firm step, and a mind perfectly re-assured and easy he went forth by one door into the court-yard as she passed by the other into Marguerita's boudoir.
THE PARTING SUPPER.
When Arthur Gordon issued out into the quiet court-yard, he found thePartisan tranquilly superintending the preparations of the dragoons, who had already lighted a fire near the fountain and having rubbed down their chargers which were busy about better provender than they had enjoyed for many a day, were now making their arrangements for the night.
The Partisan, having seen the baggage all packed securely, went back and entered the rancho, and crossing over to Marguerita asked her to guard Julia as she would a sister.
"I will guard her as my sister; as my life," she answered. "No harm shall come to her, save through my life. You shall find her safe when you return, or you shall find us together."
"I know it," he said, gloomily. "I know it, Marguerita. Yet, I think we shall never meet again," he added, in a whisper.
"We shall—we shall meet again!" she exclaimed, almost triumphantly. "If not on earth—there, there, where there are no wars, and no enemies—where we shall part no more forever!"
"Amen!" replied Pierrie.
Two hours later, and the horse-tramps of the dragoons had died away in the distance, and Julia had wept herself into forgetfulness of her sorrows on the bosom of Marguerita.
The morning which followed the departure of Pierre Delacroix and his companions from the ruined rancho, dawned as serene and gentle as the waking of a new-born child.
The song of birds and the distant water-fall hailed Julia, as she awoke from her slumbers; and the soft, melancholy singing of Marguerita suddenly reminded her where she was.
A moment afterwards the song ceased, the door flew open, and Marguerita entered, leaving several choice and dainty eatables, and addressed her guest:
"You must pardon me, lady, if I perform these little offices myself, and intrude my services upon you, for the fortunes of war have imposed the task of such light labours on me, happier than many of my sisters, who are reduced to utter penury and ruin."
"Pardon me, rather, dear Marguerita—for so you must let me call you—that I permit you thus to wait on one, who is so far in every way beneath you. Except," she added, with a winning smile, "that in all times and countries the character of a suppliant has been invested with a sort of mournful dignity."
"Is it so, lady?—is it so, indeed?" cried Marguerita, half eagerly, half-sorrowfully.
"Julia! Julia!" she cried, imploringly, "will you call me Julia? I called you Marguerita, dear, dear Marguerita."
"Julia—dear Julia, then," replied the Spanish girl, soothingly; "believe me, I thought not to wound you, but my heart bleeds, my heart burns when I think of my country and her wrongs. Hark!" she exclaimed in a low whisper, "heard you that?"
"Heard I what?" cried Julia, terrified beyond expression at the sudden change in her tone, manner, and countenance; "I hear nothing but the wind, the birds, the water!"
"There—there again!" said the other, standing erect and motionless, with her finger upraised, her head thrown a little backward, her lips apart, her nostrils dilated, her eyes fixed on vacancy. "There—there it is again—they are coming!"
An instant afterwards the jingling of spurs and the clang of a steel scabbard on the stone pavement of the outer room was heard approaching the door quickly.
ThenMarguerita's face lightened for a moment as she sprang to meet the new comer.
"It is Juan!" she cried, "it is my brother, and thanks be to God, alone!"
The door flew open, and on the threshold stood the young guerilla. It was the form of the Antinuous, without his effeminacy—it was the head of the conquering Bacchus, without the sensuality. A specimen more perfect of young manhood never walked the earth.
"Madre de Dios, who is this?" he asked.
"Brother! Juan! brother!" exclaimed Marguerita, seizing him in her arms, and striving to embrace him.
"What have you done, mad girl? Who is this, I say, who is this, Marguerita?"
"A suppliant, a fugitive, a friend, a sister, a sister of the Partisan—of Pedro, my brother, Pedro el Salvador."
"An American," he said, slowly, his brow gradually uniting into a black frown, as he uttered the word, and his eye growing lurid with a concentrated fire, then laying his hand on the hilt of his stiletto, he murmured through his set teeth, "She must die."
"Never, no! for your life! for your soul! for the name of God! for the most holy virgin! no, brother, no; not while I live! He brought her here. He that preserved your life and my honour. He asked me to protect her! and I swore by my mother's soul; and now I swear it!"
"Fool!" he almost shouted in his rage, as he thrust her aside violently, "Carrera will be here within ten minutes, and all our lives are forfeit by your treason."
"We can conceal her. In the niche, you know, in the niche. Sanchez and Estefania and Francisco need but a hint to make them mute as statues. We can conceal her, brother, and be saved."
"He knows that they came hither. We have traced their hoof-tracks to the very gate. A wounded soldier saw them leave their hiding-place, and we met Carrera on their track. I know not how we failed to meet them."
"Where is Estefania?"
"In arrest."
"And Francisco?"
"And he likewise."
"Then we are saved."
"How saved?"
"Go! Tell them, you, to swear that the dragoons forced our hospitality by menace, which we could not resist. They were five strong—young men, well armed. What could we do?"
"It may save us—who knows?"
"It will save us! Do it. Away! Every moment is a life!"
Then, as he left the room in haste, she sprang up on the bed, touched a spring in the wall, and the back of the shallow niche in which the crucifix stood flew open, turning outward on a hinge, disclosing a small circular closet, lighted by a small air-hole, and containing a low stone bench, wrought in the wall.
"Up, up!" she exclaimed, shaking Julia sharply by the arm.
And aroused from her prostration by the dreadful emergency, and nerved by the firmness of the Spanish maiden, Julia did rise, pale as a ghost, but calm and firm, and kissed and blessed her hostess, and mounted into the small hiding place, and drew the secret door close after her.
Nearer and nearer came the bugle horn, and then the clang of hoofs, the orders of the officers, the din of the men dismounting, and the clash and clatter of their arms.
Hurriedly, in the meantime, had Marguerita thrust aside the few articles of Julia's clothing which were scattered about the room, but when she thought that all was safe, and the steps of the officers were heard in the outer hall, she sat down quietly to her embroidery, and took up again her mournful song, and was singing tranquilly and unconcernedly, when her brother again entered the apartment.
SPANISH HONOUR.
"Marguerita, come forth. The General Carrera and his staff request your hospitality."
Marguerita immediately came forward, and was admired by all.
"I regret deeply," the general said, after a few moments spent in ordinary compliments, "that we were unable to arrive hither a few hours sooner, as our presence would have, I hear, relieved you of unpleasant visitors, of whom we have been in pursuit some days."
"We hadunexpectedvisitors indeed, if not unwelcome," she replied. "But to say the truth, they were not uncivil, and though we had not the power to refuse them what they asked of us, they behaved courteously, and made but a short stay."
"Be sure of that," answered Carrerra, twisting his moustache; "they knew that I was at their heels. But, however, we will take a little refreshment, and then to horse again."
After they had partaken of refreshment, he arose from his chair, and, again bowing, was on the point of leaving the apartment, and the poor girl thought that the crisis was past and the danger over.
When in the very midst of the bustle and hurry of leave-taking, an aid-de-camp rushed in hastily and announced that the riding-horse of the American lady had been found in the stable of the rancho, well groomed, and feeding at a well-filled manger.
"Who groomed him?" asked Carrera, sternly.
"A boy called Francisco."
"Bring him in."
And immediately the shepherd boy was led in between two dismounted lancers, with escopetas trailed in their hands.
"How came the lady's horse in the stable?"
"It was tired, lame, who knows?—they left it behind."
"Now, mark me, if you speak one lie, you shall be shot to death within five minutes. If you speak truth, the Republic will reward you. Where is that lady?"
"Who knows?" was the evasive answer; but as he uttered it his eyes wandered to his master's face, as if to consult his eyes before replying further. He met their steadfast gaze, and continued, firmly: "She went with the rest."
A dragoon entered at this moment, bearing a lady's side-saddle and bridle, with girths and hangings all complete, and cast them down at the general's feet; and then said, as he saluted:
"We have found a dragoon horse dead—shot within a few hours, general—in the corral, with all his accoutrements upon him."
The general's cold, hard eye turned silently and sternly on the miserable boy.
"Speak," he said, "or die. Take your choice. Where is the lady?"
"Quien Sabe?"
"Away with him."
Two stout dragoons seized him, and despite his cries, his struggles and entreaties, dragged him away as if he had been a mere infant.
There were five minutes' dreadful, death-like silence. Marguerita stood cold and impassive as a pillar of stone, with her teeth set and her hands clenched. But for the heaving of her bosom and the quivering of her eyelid, she gave no signs of life.
Juan de Alava preserved his soldier's mien and aspect, but his eye wandered wildly.
The next moment the sharp rattle of a volley, succeeded by one death groan, rang through the hall, and the thin blue smoke drifted in through the open door, and half filled the apartment.
"Fiel hasta la muerte," muttered he between his hard set teeth.
"Bring out the other servants," roared the general, furious at being frustrated.
"Give them five minutes, also, to confess; if they speak not, shoot them."
After another short pause an orderly entered, and announced that they had fled into the woods.
"Ha! this lies deeper than I thought for, lady," he added, turning to Marguerita; "we must have your presence in an inner chamber. Valdez, call in our major and six captains, a court-martial. Senor de Alava, follow us."
And without more words, he stalked into Marguerita's private chamber, seated himself in her own arm-chair, and ordering his officers to form a half circle round him, proceeded to arraign her as a culprit.
"You know," he said, sternly, but not uncourteously, "you know, Senorita, the doom which our laws have pronounced against all traitors who comfort, protect, or harbour an American?"
"Senor, I know it."
"It is?"
"Death."
"You are very young to die."
"I am young, Senor; but when God calls us hence it is never early."
A slight murmur of admiration ran through the circle at her calm and dauntless resolution, but found no echo from the cold lips of the general.
"Where is the lady gone who was here last night?"
"The boy whom you murdered told you that she went with the rest."
"He lied, and lost his life by his lie."
"On your honour, do you know where the lady is at this moment?"
"I do know."
"Where is she?"
"I have sworn to be silent."
"That oath was treason to your country."
"By your proclamation."
"You know it? You have read it?"
"I do—I have."
"Enough. One question more—will you reveal it?"
"I will not."
"And you know the alternative?"
"Death!"
"And you are prepared to die—so young, so beautiful, to die a traitress?"
"God will forgive me."
"Colonel Don Juan de Alava, on your honour, as a soldier and a gentleman, do you know where this American woman now is?"
"I do know."
"Where is she?"
"Do you think me less firm than a woman?"
"Have you sworn secrecy?"
"I have not sworn."
"Speak, I command you."
He was silent. The general cast his eyes sternly round the circle, reading the judgment of each man by his face, as he asked:
"Are they guilty of high treason?"
And each man nodded in silence as the question came to him in turn.
"And your sentence?"
"Death!" replied Valdez, standing up and uncovering, and all the others arose in their order, and bowed in assent.
"Never!" exclaimed two voices in one cry, and, as if by one movement, brother and sister drew, and raised on high, a sheathless blade.
"Brother—sister—adieu!" and the blades rose as if to strike—but ere the blow was dealt, a calm, sweet voice cried "Hold! I am here."
And at the words, there in the niche, disclosed by the removal of that holiest emblem, the Christian's dying God—there with her golden tresses floating disheveled like a halo of glory round her, with her blue eyes filled with the ineffable lustre—the lustre of a martyred saint, her innocent, artless features glowing with strange exultation, her lovely lips apart, madonna-like, stood Julia Gordon.
"I am here, man of blood. Spare them. But with me do your pleasure; I am in the hands of my God, now as ever."
At the command of his general, Valdez arose to assist Julia down; but as he took the first step, he stopped short as if thunder-stricken.
Nor was it wonderful, for as he took that step, one short crack came echoing from without, the well-known death-shot of the certain rifle—then pealed a bugle, high and shrill—the terrified alarm—and then crack! crack! went the deadly rifle of the west.
And high above all other sounds, and high arose the cry of the Texans—"Remember the Alama, the Alamo?" and Gordon's name was mingled with the din; and the fierce cheer of the Partisan, "Pierre, Pierre! charge for Pierre and glory!" completed the dismay of the surprised and baffled murderers.
As the first din of that surprise fell on the startled ears of the Mexican commander, he sprang to his feet, unsheathed his sword, and the other officers following his example, they dashed forward gallantly to find their men, and lead them to the charge—all save one, Valdez.
"And why does the gallant Colonel Valdez loiter in the rear, when his men are in action?" asked Juan de Alava, sneeringly.
"I might retort the question, sirrah, were it becoming me to reply to a prisoner and a traitor."
"And did you so retort, sirrah," answered Alava quietly, "I might reply that a prisoner has no right to be in action, did it become me to reply to a liar."
"Now mark me. Before these ladies whom youhaveinsulted,wouldhave outraged, I strike you thus. I spurn you with my foot thus and thus!" and as he spoke he suited the action to the word, giving him a severe blow with the flat of his sword across the shoulders, and actually kicking him twice with his foot.
Both men were in the prime of life, young, active, sinewy, and skilful to a wonder in the use of their weapons. Juan was as brave as his own steel, and Valdez, a base coward, was forced to fight for his life.
"Kill him! Kill him!" cried Marguerita. "For my sake kill him! By no hand but yours must the villain die!"
They both fought desperately and determinedly, one fighting for life, and the other for vengeance.
Hopeless of directing Marguerita from her appalling object, Julia turned, sick at heart, toward the window—the same window which had given entrance to the Partisan, when he arrived but in time to save Marguerita—and at the very moment she did so, it was driven inward with a loud crash, and she was clasped in the arms of Arthur Gordon. The sound of the forceful entrance, the clanking steps of his men, for the three dragoons were at his heels, and the clatter of his accoutrements, had well nigh proved fatal to Alava; for at the sudden uproar in his rear, he turned his head quickly, and was admonished by a sharp wound in his side for his imprudence.
And, like a wounded lion, Juan de Alava charged him home so fiercely that he had not a second's breathing time. Three triple feints, each followed by a home lunge, Valdez had parried in succession, when he lunged in return. His foot slipped a little on the marble floor; his blade was struck aside by Alava's dagger, at the same instant in which his chest was pierced and his heart cleft asunder by his home-driven blade.
Scarce was that fearful death-struggle completed, when two of the dragoons advanced their carbines and called on Juan to yield him on good quarters.
Juan had already lost much blood, and staggered sickly, and would have fallen but for the sword on which he leaned.
"Where is your officer?" he asked, in Spanish. "I am a gentleman, and will not yield but to an officer."
"I am an officer," cried Gordon, springing forward, having learned by one word from Julia who he was. "I am your friend, too, Senor Don Juan—your friend forever."
Gordon, having seen Juan in safe hands, he went forth in search of a surgeon.
Utterly dispirited and broken, the Mexicans rushed in a body to the window, by which their comrades were pouring out; and, the two currents meeting, jostled and reeled together like tides conflicting in a narrow channel.
But the terror and the numbers of those without were the greater; and gradually they forced their way inward, actually using their weapons, one against the other, in the madness of their despair. And still on the rear of that confused and weltering route raged the fierce broadswords of the Texan riders.
"Ha, Mason," exclaimed Gordon, as the rangers swept past him in their charge, recognizing a young officer of his acquaintance. "This work is over now. For God's sake send one of your fellows for a surgeon. A friend of mine lies badly wounded, yonder, in the orange thicket, by the stream."
"Aye, aye!" cried he whom he addressed, reining up his horse. "You, Grayson, gallop to the rear, and bring up surgeon Maxwell."
"Yes, sir," answered the man, and dashed away to the rear.
"But I wish you would send a dozen men down yonder to that thicket, to mount guard over Julia," said Gordon. "She is almost alone."
"I'll go myself," answered Mason, "or the devil a soul will I get to stir, so long as they can shoot or stick a Mexican. Halt! dress—halt! or I'll scewer some of you. That is it. Now steady. Gordon, I'll see to that—never fear. But I wish you would gallop down, and stop firing. All resistance is at an end, and it is now mere butchery."
"I will, I will," replied the young dragoon; "there has, indeed, been enough of it."
And putting his spurs to a charger, which he caught as it ran by him masterless, he galloped forward, shouting to the men to cease firing. But eager as he was to check the carnage, he was preceded in the work of charity by the bold Partisan, whom he could see mounted among the crowd of dismounted rangers, close to the often-mentioned window, actually cutting at his own men with his broadsword to enforce obedience, and shouting till he was hoarse, in Spanish and English alternately:
"Cease firing, and give quarter."
Suddenly a shot flashed from a loop above, and he reeled in his stirrups and fell headlong.
A fierce roar followed from the soldiery; and, in an instant they forced their way bodily into the building, and woe to the Mexican whom they met when the word was given—"Pierre!"
"My God! they have murdered him!" cried Gordon; and forgetful of all else, he drove madly to the spot, sprang from his horse, and raised him from the bloody greensward.
"They have done for me at last," cried the gallant soldier, as Gordon raised his head upon his lap, as he knelt behind him.
"I trust not, indeed."
"They have. I am a dead man, Gordon. But come, my time is short; have me borne to the ladies—unless," he added, "you fear to let them see me."
"You are right. Maxwell is there, tending the hurt of young Alava."
They had conversed alone, with no witness but the beautiful brown horse of the Partisan, which, bleeding himself, from many wounds, stood close beside them, not having moved a yard since the fatal shot was fired, gazing upon his fallen master with an eye that seemed full of human intelligence and sympathy.
"Emperor knows that I am dying. Soh! Emperor, good horse. Soh! Emperor!" he added, raising his head a little to gaze on his favourite.
And the beautiful brown horse whinnied as he heard the long-loved voice, and advanced a yard or two, and rubbed his muzzle gently and fondly over the face of his dying master.
"Good horse, good Emperor," said the Partisan, patting the face of his horse with his failing hand. "I never shall back you again, good Emperor. He is yours, Gordon, when I am gone. You will be kind to him, I know."
The young dragoon wrung the hand of the dying man hard, and the big tears burst in volumes from his eyes, and fell down like rain upon the face of the veteran.
"Go forward," he said, faintly; "go forward, Gordon, and apprise the ladies. Women are tender plants, and this, I think, will shock them."
And slowly they did bear him, with the beautiful brown horse following them step by step with his head bent almost to the dust, and trailing his long, thin mane on the ground, in the depth of animal sorrow.
When Gordon reached the bower the surgeon was fastening up his case, having dressed young Alava's wound, and was on the point of going to offer his services, he said, where they might be more seriously required.
The young soldier caught his last words as he entered, and arresting him by the arm, said, earnestly, in a low voice, even before he replied to the congratulations of the women:
"That is here, Maxwell; nowhere can they be more required than they will be here. God send that they may avail."
Though uttered in a whisper, Julia heard his words, and judging from the expression of his face, clasped her hands, and cried, earnestly:
"Not the Partisan, Arthur—oh, say it is not the Partisan."
"Would that I could."
"Not severely—not fatally, at least?"
"I fear mortally."
"My God! my God!" and she burst into a paroxysm of almost hysterical weeping.
The conversation had all passed in the English tongue, yet, as it were, instinctively, Marguerita caught their meaning, and she uttered one long, piercing shriek, and fell lifeless to all appearance.
The surgeon and Julia hastened to raise her up, but Pierre said quietly:
"Let her be—let her be if there is no danger. It is better she should be senseless until all is over."
"There is no danger," said Maxwell, with an air of wonder.
"God bless you, then, good Maxwell; betake you where you may do more good—my days are numbered. Commend me to McCulloch and Gillespie. My rifle to the first, my pistols to the latter, and this, doctor," he added, as he handed him his knife. "Yourself, Gordon, will keep my horse. Bury me in my blanket with my sword by my side. Fare you well. Now, lady," he added, turning his eyes to Julia Gordon, "in your ear. You will permit me Gordon?"
"Surely—most surely."
Then Julia knelt down by his side, and clasped his cold hand in her own, and listened with her whole soul in her ears, watering his face with her tears.
"That poor thing," he said, turning his eyes toward the motionless form of Marguerita, "you will be kind to her—you will care for her—you will love her?"
"As my own sister," faltered Julia through her sobs, "as my own sister."
"Then I die happy. Gordon," he added, raising his head a little for the last time, "this agony is well nigh over. She has promised to be a sister to poor Marguerita; will you do likewise?"
"She shall be my sister."
"God's blessing on you now friends. I am going, fare-you-well. Weep not for me, for I have lived happily, and I hope not altogether uselessly, and I die happily, for I die with my duty done, in the arms of those I love the most dearly, and in the faith of a Christian."
Then he closed his eyes, quite exhausted with his efforts, and lay for a long time speechless so that they believed him dead.
But he opened them again after a while, and said, very faintly:
"Brown Emperor; good horse. You will be good to him, Gordon?"
Then one of those strange things occurred which at times almost make us think that brutes have souls and reason. For, before the young soldier could reply, the brown horse, which had followed the bearers of his master to the entrance of the arbour, and paused there, as if conscious that he must not enter, no sooner heard his own name uttered in those feeble accents, than he thrust his head through the foliage and uttered a long, low, plaintive neigh, utterly unlike any sound he had ever before been heard to utter.
"Ah! thou art there, old friend. God bless thee, too, if it be no sin so to pray. Thou wilt be cared for; will he not, Gordon—Julia?"
But neither could reply for sobbing. He understood the reason, and said once again:
"Bless you all—may God bless you. Remember that I die a Chris—a Christian. I am go—going. Gordon, Gordon, let her—let her kiss—kiss me, Julia."
"Kiss him, quick; kiss him, kiss him, Julia."
She knelt beside him, bent her beautiful form over his bosom, and pressed her cold lips to his, and the pure spirit of the noble and high-minded soldier passed away in that last—that first embrace of the woman he had loved so chastely, so devotedly, so nobly.
Happy who so die, in the arms of love, religion, honour.
More words are almost needless. Julia and Gordon, under the guidance of the gallant rangers, reached the lines at Monterey in safety. Long did they mourn over that true and noble friend, who, though the friend but of a day, had stamped himself on their souls forever.
Poor Marguerita never ceased to weep for the man she loved so madly and so vainly, till, in the convent which she entered within a month of his death, her sorrows and sufferings were ended.
One thing alone remains to be recorded. The brown horse, which had followed his master's body to the grave, and watched his interment with an almost human eye, was forced almost by violence from the spot when the last ceremony was ended.
But in the afternoon, when the column was formed to march, and the bugles sounded the advance, he reared furiously, broke the leading rein by which a dragoon was guiding him, and galloped to the spot where they had laid his master.
They followed him, and found him lying on the grave, rooting up the fresh laid sods with his muzzle. But when he saw them drawing near, he rose to his feet with a weak, staggering action, stood for a moment gazing at them proudly, then uttered the same long, shrill, plaintive neigh, and in the sound expired.
They scooped a little hollow—it was no sacrilege—beside the grave of him whom he had borne so truly, whom he would not survive, and laid him by those honoured ashes, with this motto rudely carved on a low headstone close by the simple monument, which love erected to the memory of the gallant Partisan:
Fiel hasta la Muerte.Marguerita.
They sleep together. Never was better horse or nobler rider.
THE END.
Printed by James Jackson, and Published by him at his Publishing Office, 2,Red Lion Court, Fleet Street, London, E.C.
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