Captain Forest'sfeelings are better imagined than described. His brain was in a whirl, on fire. For the second time a woman had treated his confidence lightly. The whole world seemed to spin round him in chaotic confusion as he sought to lay hold of a single, tangible thought that might temper his judgment, steady his nerves and check the fierce outbursts of passion which were fast sweeping him beyond self-control. He had reached a state of recklessness that renders a man of his temperament most dangerous, and unless his judgment soon got the better of his passions, he would, as likely as not, either kill Chiquita or Don Felipe, or both of them.
The company had broken up shortly after the departure of Chiquita and Padre Antonio, leaving thepatiosilent and deserted, save for the presence of the Captain, who paced silently back and forth; the moon flooding thepatiowith broad sheets of white light, causing objects to appear almost as sharp and distinct as before the lights of the lanterns were extinguished.
Blanch, who was the last to leave, would have offered him her sympathy, but on approaching him, he gave her a look so terrifying that even she dared not speak to him. She accordingly retired to her room and seated herself before the open window from which she commanded a view of the court and could observe him at her leisure. Perhaps he will come to his senses now, she thought. At any rate, he now knew what she suffered. She experienced a feeling of cruel satisfaction and exultation while calmly watching the struggle going on within him as he paced slowly back and forth.
How strange that they should be there in that out-of-the-way place! In spite of the terrible ordeal through which she had passed and the dramatic climax in which the struggle had just culminated, it still appeared so unreal, so unnatural to her, that she wondered whether she was not still dreaming and must soon awaken to find herself back in the old life again and Jack near her, as in the old days. Who could have foreseen this tragedy, this end to their lives? But a few months previous all things appeared so clear and defined, so definitely ordained for them.
Truly the future was veiled—a sealed book for man! Had she been permitted to dip for but an instant beneath the cover of that book, or lift the veil ever so little, the catastrophe that had overtaken them and the suffering it entailed might have been averted.
But no. The strange nemesis that had pursued them step by step had been permitted to wreck their lives completely. And for what end—what purpose? Was there no justice, no recompense for them? The answer, she somehow felt, lay not here, but with the stars—in the great universal scheme of things, and was quite beyond her reasoning powers.
She felt the utter hopelessness of longer struggling against the unseen, and in that hour she became a fatalist. Better drift from day to day without purpose, than living, behold one's dreams and ambitions come to naught. She was like a strong, self-confident swimmer who had been caught by the tide and was being swept irresistibly out to sea. Blurred though her vision was, she seemed to see things clearer than she had ever seen them before, and she somehow felt that the fate which had overtaken her was the result of self-aggrandizement—that she in a measure typified the passing or end of a condition out of whose decay the new life must spring.
Submit she must, and yet a fierce resentment against all things filled her soul. She rebelled at the apparent injustice which she felt had been done her. Why had she, the most fit, been chosen? What had she really done to merit such an end? She realized that her trouble was unalterable; that it had its root in the social scheme of things and nothing she could do could alter it. That in reality it was no fault of hers, but the fault of her bringing up; that the world which she had been taught to respect as a thing representing truth and beauty, all that is best in man, was only a mocking illusion.
The injustice of it amazed, appalled, stunned her. She seemed to think and move like one in a dream, struggling with shadowy, intangible forces with which she was incapable to cope. The thought that it was not her fault only added to her bitterness and agony, and she longed for death—the death that knows no awakening—to be blotted out utterly, and forever. Her life was devoid of hope, there was nothing to look forward to, the future had become a blank.
A low moan, in which was expressed the despair and agony of men since the beginning of time, escaped her. She pressed her cold hands to her burning, throbbing temples and prayed that, whatever her end might be, it would come swiftly.
Again she raised her head and glanced through the open window. To her surprise she saw the tall form of Dick Yankton leaning against one of the pillars of the arcade that ran round thepatio. He was smoking quietly and observing the Captain, who still strode back and forth apparently unaware of his presence. Suddenly the Captain stopped short as if he had come to a decision. As he did so, he turned half round and saw Dick, whom he regarded for some moments in silence. Then, going over to where he stood, she heard him exclaim: "It's not true, Dick, I don't believe it. I'm going to her now and tell her so!" At the same instant she also saw Don Felipe glide noiselessly and stealthily from one of the doors opening on to thepatioand pause in the deep shadow of the arcade next to the wall, close to where they stood. Instantly she was on her feet and leaning forward, breathless and eager to catch all that was said.
"Neither do I believe it," answered Dick. "But I wouldn't have told you so. I wanted you to make up your mind first, and if you hadn't said so just now, I wouldn't show you this, either," he continued, drawing from his inner coat pocket a large envelope from which he took a letter and handed it to the Captain.
She saw the sheet of paper tremble in the Captain's hands as he read its contents. Again Dick handed himanother sheet somewhat larger and darker than the first. He seized it eagerly, glancing hurriedly over its contents, his hands trembling more violently than before.
"Marvelous!" he exclaimed excitedly, looking at Dick. "And yet," he added, "it's not so strange after all; it's so natural!"
Blanch uttered a suppressed cry. She felt that her last chance of winning back the Captain was gone forever. It was a last stab at her heart. At this juncture José appeared from out the shadows of the garden beyond thepatioand hurriedly approached them. She heard him say something in Spanish which she did not understand. Then, all became blurred before her eyes. She felt herself begin to sway and totter—she fainted.
Following José, the Captain and Dick came upon Starlight, quietly cropping the grass in the garden, just outside the corral. On hearing their approach, the Chestnut raised his head, and, seeing his master, gave a low whinny of recognition. Close beside him on the grass lay a dark, shapeless object which, on closer inspection, proved to be the remains of Juan Ramon, trampled almost beyond recognition by the stallion's terrible hoofs.
While Chiquita was being confronted by Don Felipe and the attention of every one was occupied by the scene that followed, Juan seized the opportunity for which he had been waiting. Stealing quietly away to the corrals, he deftly flung ariataover the stallion's head, and, looping it about the animal's nose, was on his back with a bound.
There was no question of Juan's ability to ride him. Once on a horse's back, he had never yet been unseated. He had expected the Chestnut to rear and plunge, to fight desperately on finding a stranger on his back and he was prepared for it, but greatly to his surprise, the horse showed no signs of fight and went meekly out of the corral at his bidding. All went well until they reached the garden, and Juan was beginning to congratulate himself on making his escape so easily, when suddenly and without warning, the Chestnut stopped short, reached round with his head, and seizing Juan by the leg with his teeth, jerked him to the ground. Juan heard the stallion's fierce cry of rage, and—that was the end.
The luck had changed again for Juan, and with it vanished his fair dream of life on the littlehaciendawith the pretty Rosita.
José had long been aware of Juan's intentions regarding the horse, and laughed quietly to himself as he thought of the trap Juan was laying for himself. That afternoon he appeared to be drinking heavily, and early in the evening feigned intoxication in order that Juan might go to his death which he knew awaited him should he so much as lay his hand on the horse.
When Blanch regained consciousness once more, she found herself in a half sitting and kneeling posture before the window with one arm resting on the sill. She must have been unconscious for some time, for when she came to herself, she again saw Captain Forest and Dick standing in thepatioconversing in low tones. They soon separated, Dick going into the house, and the Captain making his way through the garden. She knew hewas on his way to Chiquita. She also saw Don Felipe steal from the shadow of his concealment and follow him.
A great fear seized her. She felt the imminence of a disaster greater than that which had already occurred. Something terrible was about to happen. The thought aroused her to action and she hurriedly rose to her feet. If possible, she would prevent that final catastrophe which her intuition told her was imminent—which she knew must overtake either one or all three of them should Don Felipe and the Captain meet again that night in Chiquita's presence.
There was not a moment to lose, and seizing a light wrap which lay on a chair beside her, she flung it about her shoulders and hurriedly left the room.
Beforeleaving thepatio, Bessie promised to meet Dick in the garden after the company dispersed for the night. After the Captain's departure, Dick returned to thepatioand took his stand in the shadow of the nearest trees, where he awaited her.
Never had her mood appeared so distracted and evasive as that evening. She had avoided him as much as possible. He was quite at a loss to know how to take her, and wondered what would be the outcome of their interview which, he felt, might possibly be their last.
Notwithstanding this melancholy prospect, he still experienced the same spirit of buoyancy which possessed him during the day. He had caught her regarding him several times during the evening with what he thought to be a look of tenderness in her eyes, and this, perhaps, accounted in a measure for his present elation.
She, in turn, had wondered greatly at the change that had come over him. How could he possibly be so gay when everybody else was so miserable, and she thoroughly resented it.
During the interval that had elapsed after the breaking up of the company, she had participated in a stormy interview with her father and aunt; the latter endeavoring to point out to her the danger incurred by holdingintercourse with obscure, low-born persons, as had just been demonstrated in the Captain's case.
She was surprised on returning to her room not to find Blanch there, but, on second thought, felt it was only natural after what had occurred that she should want to be alone, and thought she must be somewhere in the garden. She had seen Dick leave thepatioand disappear in the shadow beyond, whither she directed her steps, passing out and around the front of the house, as she did not wish to incur the risk of being seen by her father or aunt.
Dick, who had tossed aside his hat on the grass and stood leaning against the trunk of a tree, was presently aroused from his meditations by the object of his thoughts, who stood close beside him.
"Well, I'm here," she said, by way of beginning, looking up into his face.
"I was looking for you in the other direction," he replied, throwing away his half-burnt cigar. "I ought to have known better. You are always doing the opposite of that which one expects."
A smile lit up her face for a moment, as she flashed her beautiful wide eyes upon him. She seemed a part of that beauteous night, elfish and delicate as a moonbeam or a flower, fragile as the song of a bird. He could not speak, but stood drinking her in with his eyes and soul, his face wearing a mixed expression of rapture and pain. She knew what he felt, and like him, she, too, struggled with herself for the mastery of her emotion.
"Do you know," she said at length, "this is the firsttime I have ever been guilty of a clandestine meeting with a man. If my father knew I was here, he would be beside himself."
"Then you did want to come!" he exclaimed.
"Of course. Otherwise, why should I be here?" she responded shyly, raising her eyes to his for an instant and then lowering them again.
"Bessie!" he cried, starting toward her.
"Hush!" she said, raising her hand in protest and checking him. Had he taken her in his arms then and there, she would have surrendered without a struggle, for she was in that soft, languid mood of a woman in love in spite of herself. But he dared not give way to his impulse. He loved her too much, and feared lest his impetuosity might ruin forever his chance of winning her.
"I know it was foolish of me to come, especially when there was no reason for it," she continued with assumed indifference, casting a sidelong glance at him out of the corners of her eyes. In spite of the pain she knew she inflicted, she could not resist flirting with him just a little even at such a moment. It filled her with such exquisite joy to feel anew the power she exercised over him and the unfathomable depth of his love which each fresh thrust at his heart revealed to her.
"I came here," she slowly resumed, "to ask what you think of Chiquita?"
"Think!" he burst forth savagely, aroused almost to a pitch of desperation by her irritating manner. "Do you take me for as big a fool as Don Felipe, or—" your father? he was about to add, but checked himselfjust in time. "When one has known Chiquita as long as I have, you don't think things about her, you know. Don Felipe," he went on, "reminds me of the naughty little boy who one day, while playing in a park, threw mud on a swan, imagining that he had besmirched the bird forever until it dived under the water and reappeared again as white as before. Why, even if I at this moment did not possess the absolute proof of her innocence, nobody could ever persuade me to believe that story. You don't know the Indian as I do, Miss Van Ashton. The high-caste Indian women are quite as incapable of such things as you are. It was a devilishly clever stroke on Don Felipe's part, I'll admit, but he has deceived himself as thoroughly as the rest of the world."
"What proof have you?" she asked with a surprised and mystified look, her woman's curiosity thoroughly aroused. Dick chuckled softly in reply.
"What are you laughing at?" she demanded, not a little nettled by his manner.
"I'm not laughing," he answered. "I'm merely trying to smother the rage you have aroused in me by dallying with me in this manner when you know perfectly well that I asked you to come here to tell you that I—"
"Stop!" she commanded authoritatively. "I wish to see that proof before anything further passes between us."
"Will you never become serious?" he asked, drawing an envelope from his pocket, the contents of which he had shown Captain Forest. "It's strange," he continued, "that this document should concern you as well as Don Felipe and Chiquita."
"What do you mean?" she asked in astonishment. Again he laughed softly by way of reply.
"It's funny you should get mixed up in their affairs!"
"I don't understand you," she interrupted, more mystified and irritated than ever. "Give me that letter, Mr. Yankton!" she demanded, holding out her hand.
"Then step out into the light, please, you lovely, tantalizing witch," he answered, drawing the papers from the envelope and handing them to her. "If I didn't love you to distraction, I wouldn't stand this sort of thing a minute longer. God!" he cried, glancing heavenward, "you'll be the death of me yet."
"Have you forgotten, Mr. Yankton?" she asked calmly, her face turning a delicate crimson.
"Then read—read!" he cried in desperation, scarcely able to control himself. She knew it could not last much longer. She slowly unfolded the large sheets of paper and began to read their contents in the moonlight.
"Aloud, please," he said.
"Why aloud?"
"Oh, just as you please!"
"Very well, if you wish it. 'Dear Dick,' she began with a slight hesitancy. 'When this reaches you I shall have passed over the border to that unknown range from whence nobody ever returns. Enclosed you will find the record of Don Felipe Ramirez's andPepita Delaguerra's marriage which, at Don Felipe's instigation, I stole from the register in the church at Onava, giving him a copy of the same which he destroyed, believing it to be the original. I did this with the intention of extorting money from him later on. I and Joaquin Flores and his wife were the only witnesses to the marriage. But there is a sequel. Pepita gave birth to a child, a girl, after Felipe deserted her. I learned later that Chiquita and the two Flores concealed it somewhere in one of the Indianpueblosnear La Jara, as they feared Don Felipe would make way with the child should he learn of its existence.'
"How strange!" exclaimed Bessie excitedly. "Why, that was Don Felipe's own child which he introduced this evening and said was Chiquita's."
"Exactly," said Dick, quietly.
"But I don't see what all this has to do with me," she added.
"Proceed, please," he answered. "That's not the only surprise his letter contains."
Glancing down at the sheets once more she resumed:
"'You will also be greatly surprised to learn that the young lady who was present on the day you saved my life and whose name I asked, is my sister.'
"The insinuation is infamous!" she cried, letting the papers fall to the ground.
"Miss Van Ashton," he interrupted, calmly stooping and picking up the papers and handing them to her again, "you forget—you are reading the confession of a dying man."
"His sister!" she continued indignantly. "It can't be possible—I never had a brother!"
"Please proceed, Miss Van Ashton," he replied. Amazed and bewildered, Bessie excitedly resumed the reading of the strange letter.
"'My sister never knew me because I left home shortly after she was born; but, notwithstanding, I recognized her the instant I set eyes on her, not only owing to the presence of my father that day, but to the remarkable resemblance she bears to my mother. She is the living image of her.'" Bessie paused, overcome with agitation.
"How very remarkable," she said, as if to herself. "Every one who knew my mother says we resemble one another very closely in manner as well as in looks. My father always keeps our photographs placed side by side on his desk at home. Except for the difference in the style of dress, it is almost impossible to tell which is which. What he says does sound true," she admitted. "Yet—"
"There can be no doubt of it," broke in Dick. Again Bessie looked down at the papers and resumed:
"'Before I breathe my last, Dick, I want to tell you that I have discovered the lead to the old Esmeralda mine; the enclosed chart will guide you to it. Tell my sister that half of it belongs to her and the other half to Pepita's child if you are able to find her. Perhaps this one and only generous act of my selfish life will atone somewhat for my many misdeeds. Good-by, Dick, and God bless you.'"
"You needn't read that!" he interrupted. But without heeding him, she continued:
"'You are the best and bravest fellow alive. Good-by, Dick, again, for the last time.
"'Harry Van Ashton, better known to the world as Bob Carlton, gambler and—'" The letter ended abruptly. A sob broke from Bessie. Two bright tears glistened like jewels in the moonlight on her long lashes and then stole silently down her cheeks.
"Don't take it so hard, Miss Van Ashton," he said. "Your brother was wild, but not so bad as the world thought him."
"My poor brother!" she murmured.
"I am sure," he resumed after a little, "that when your brother looked into your eyes that day, his manhood reasserted itself; that he repented and threw off his past life like an old garment, and from that moment, stood prepared to enter the presence of his Maker."
"You are very good to say that," she answered, looking up at him with shining eyes.
"No, it's not good of me at all," he returned. "I love you too much to say anything but what I know to be true." She did not reply, but remained lost in thought, her eyes cast on the ground.
"Bessie!" he exclaimed passionately, drawing nearer to her. "Why do you hesitate? You know that I understand you better than any one else ever could. You know you love me!" She knew her moment had come; that she must answer him for all time, and strive as she would, she could not conceal her confusion. He did not know how intense was the struggle going on within her, nor realize what it meant to her to give up the life she had known always.
"And what if I told you," she said at length, her eyes still downcast, "that I care more for you than anything else in this world, Dick?" pronouncing his name aloud for the first time. "What would you say then?"
"That I will love you for all time, Sweetheart! That I will make you the happiest woman in the world!" he cried, his arms closing about her, and kissing her full on the lips.
"When we are married," he said at last, "we'll start in search of the Esmeralda, the famous old Spanish mine that was destroyed by the earthquake, and if, as your brother said, he really found the lead again, you and Don Felipe's child will be the two richest women in Chihuahua."
"Then let it be soon, Dick!" she answered. "Oh! I know I've been perfectly horrid!" she cried, flinging her arms about his neck in a fresh outburst, and kissing him again and again. "But I'll make it up to you, Dick! I'll show you how Bessie Van Ashton can love!" There was another long silence, during which each could hear the beating of the other's heart. Then looking up with a pained, disheartened expression on her face, she said: "I'm sorry I can't come to you with a fortune, Dick. My father will cast me off, and all I now possess in this world are you and the clothes on my back."
"Why, you sweet, pathetic little beggar!" he exclaimed, sealing her lips with a kiss.
"He said he would rather see me dead at his feetthan married to you," she went on. "Of course, if you were immensely wealthy, he might learn to tolerate you in time. We're all like that, you know, but as things are, we'll have to shift as best we can."
"Well, I don't lay claim to much," he said, restraining his mirth with difficulty. "There's the Esmeralda, you know, but even if that fails us, there's no cause for immediate worry. We'll find a modest little hovel somewhere that is large enough to contain our love." And then he laughed long and loud, laughed as he had never laughed before.
"What are you laughing at?" she inquired, with a dawning suspicion that he was keeping something from her.
"Oh, nothing," he answered at length. "You'll forgive me, I'm sure, when I say, that I can't help thinking what an ass your father is!" And Bessie Van Ashton stepped into a bigger life than she had ever known.
Perhapsall was not yet lost. The Padre's words and attitude acted like a wonderful elixir upon Chiquita. They buoyed her up, lifted her soul from the dust where it had been flung and trampled upon.
The house oppressed her, and sleep being impossible, she opened the door and stepped out into the garden and wandered along the paths that led in and out among the flowers and shrubs, inhaling the delicious night air, faintly perfumed with the delicate fragrance of mignonette and heliotrope and a few last roses.
The fresh air and the beauty and quiet of the night soothed her. She felt her strength return, and a great calm took possession of her as she moved to and fro in the moonlight, now casting her eyes toward the stars, now downward at the wan, drooping heads of the flowers which swayed gently in the faint night breeze. Her face radiantly beautiful, her jewels flashing against the pale white setting of her dress and her tawny skin, she resembled more the lovely ghost of some long-departed Spanish woman that had returned to earth to revisit familiar haunts, than one still among the living.
What was he doing now? she asked herself. It was impossible that he should continue to believe in her. It was more than could be expected; no one but PadreAntonio was capable of that. Just then she heard the sound of footsteps on the walk outside the wall and a moment later, the click of the latch on the gate as it swung open. She thought it must be Padre Antonio come back again, and she turned to meet him. A faint, suppressed cry escaped her, for there, just inside the gate, stood Captain Forest.
He had evidently not yet seen her and paused as if uncertain whether to advance. She stood in the open space beside the bench, just off the pathway leading from the gate to the house, along which he must advance should he decide to proceed farther. A pale, plumy spray of tamarisk intervened between them, otherwise he must have seen her. For some time he stood silent and motionless as if uncertain what to do, then he began to advance slowly in her direction.
What did he want? Why had he come at this hour? Her heart beat high and she began to tremble with excitement as she watched him coming toward her.
Her wan, pale dress so closely resembled the moonlight in the shadow of the tamarisk that he might have passed her unnoticed had she not unconsciously closed her half-open fan which she was nervously clasping in both hands. It shut with a soft, faint snap, causing him to stop and turn in her direction.
"Chiquita!" he cried, and springing forward, had her in his arms before she could prevent it.
"No, no; you must not!" she cried, overcome by his suddenness and vainly struggling to free herself.
"Chiquita," he went on without heeding her, "I could not wait until morning, and came to tell you again thatI believe in you—that I love you—that nothing but death can separate us in this life!"
She saw and felt the uselessness of struggling against his great strength and will, so she relaxed her efforts and became quite passive in his arms, her face cast down. Besides, it seemed as though all her strength had left her. She trembled so violently and felt so weak that she must have sunk to the ground had he not supported her.
"Sweetheart!" he cried more passionately than ever. "What do we care for the world? Look up and say you will come with me!" Her soul thrilled with the rapture his words caused her.
"Jack," she said at length, raising her head and looking up into his face, "I love you too much to do that. Not until my name has been cleared—" They heard a rustling sound on the other side of the tamarisk. Another moment, and the long, plumy sprays parted and Don Felipe stepped into the pathway. His face was ashen pale and wore the look of a thoroughly desperate man.
"Captain Forest," he began, breaking the painful silence that ensued, "I have vowed that you shall never marry her. I give you one more chance," and he raised his right arm and pointed toward the gate. "Go, while there is yet time!" he commanded, his voice vibrant with passion. "Go back to thePosadaat once and saddle your horse and leave the country this very night. If you do not—"
"You think to intimidate me?" interrupted the Captain, quietly releasing Chiquita from his arms and confronting him.
"Once more—will you go?" demanded Don Felipe in a harsh, fierce voice.
"No!" answered the Captain.
"Then your blood be upon your own head!" he cried, and without a moment's warning, he drew a long knife from his inner breast pocket and rushed furiously upon him.
"Coward, to attack an unarmed man!" cried the Captain, springing aside just in time to avoid his thrust. Without replying, Don Felipe whirled with the swiftness of a cat and rushed at him again. The Captain glanced hurriedly about him in search of some weapon of defense. Close at hand he espied a small, fragile, gilt chair that had been left there by chance during the day. Seizing it by the back with both hands he raised it aloft and aimed a swift blow at his adversary, but the latter cleverly dodged it by dropping on one knee. The chair crashed to the ground with terrific force, its fragments flying in all directions.
Captain Forest was a wonderfully active man for his size. Before Don Felipe was on his feet again, he sprang forward and seized his right arm. The two men grappled desperately for some moments, but what was Don Felipe in the hands of a giant. Suddenly the knife went whirling back over the Captain's shoulder, forming a glittering half-circle in the moonlight as it fell among the flowers. Then Captain Forest lifted Don Felipe with both hands as easily as he would have lifted achild and hurled him violently to the ground several feet away. A smothered cry of pain escaped him.
"Lie there, dog!" said the Captain, contemptuously.
"Not so, Captain Forest—we're not done yet!" answered Don Felipe, rising with difficulty on one knee. From his hip pocket he drew a pistol.
"Don Felipe Ramirez!" came Chiquita's voice, ringing clear; but he did not heed the warning. Instantly her hand went to her breast and there were two almost simultaneous shots. Don Felipe sprang into the air with a loud cry, alighting upright upon both feet. He gasped, staggered forward a pace, and then sank down on his knees. Again he gasped, clutched desperately at his heart with his left hand, and then, with a last supreme effort, slowly raised his weapon with his trembling hand and once more took aim at the Captain. There was another quick flash and report, and Don Felipe Ramirez lay dead on the ground between them.
In silence they gazed at one another across Don Felipe's body. The Captain was about to speak when they were startled by a low moan just behind them, and, turning, they saw Blanch sink slowly to the bench in a sitting posture, her head resting on her arm across the back of the bench. In an instant they were at her side.
"They were startled by a low moan and saw Blanch sink slowly to the bench."
"They were startled by a low moan and saw Blanch sink slowly to the bench."
"Blanch!" cried the Captain in consternation at the sight of the blood that was oozing slowly from her left side, and which Chiquita was vainly endeavoring to stanch with her handkerchief. At the sound of his voice, she slowly opened her eyes.
"Forgive me," she whispered in an almost inaudible tone, as they knelt on either side of her, supporting her.For some moments she lay quite motionless, then a slight tremor passed through her and with a little sigh like that of a child's, her head slipped down upon Chiquita's breast. The bullet which Don Felipe had intended for the Captain had passed through her heart; the penalty she paid for giving the signal in thepatio.
The moonlight fell full across her face, which, contrary to what one might suppose, wore an expression of peace and calm, almost a smile, like one in a dream.
"How beautiful she is!" murmured Chiquita, holding her tenderly in her arms.
"Would to God she had been spared!" answered the Captain, his voice choking with emotion. Yet each felt as they gazed on her upturned face, whose expression was rather that of sleep than of death, that she was better off thus; for what did life hold for her?
Formost men death ends all things, but for those whose souls are illumined by the unquenchable flame of faith, death is but the beginning of life.
The news of the tragedy, following swift upon that of Juan Ramon's death, spread like wildfire, fairly taking the people's breath away, and throwing the community into a tumult of excitement. Not since the days when the victorious American armies had entered Mexico and laid waste the land, had there been such a commotion in the old town.
The community was shaken to its center. What would happen next? Old women paused in the midst of their chatter and, crossing themselves, said an extraaveas a protection against the Evil One; for no one knew who would be taken next.
Don Felipe Ramirez, the handsomest and wealthiest and most influential man in Chihuahua, dead—at the hand of a woman—an Indian!
Most people admitted that he had merited death. That his end was a just punishment for his misdeeds, but then, had it not been for the woman who had wrecked his life, how different his end might have been!
Juan Ramon would be missed for a day at the gaming tables, but the beautiful American Señorita—why should she have paid the price of blood? It was toomuch. The popular outburst was tremendous, quite beyond Padre Antonio's influence or control. The evil and tragedy which the witch seemed to draw with her in her train far outweighed the good she had accomplished since her advent in the town. And if the grand Señor, Captain Forest, of an alien race, still chose to remain in the place, why, let him look to his personal safety if he still set store upon his life.
Such was popular sentiment, and out of the countless maledictions that were heaped upon the dark woman and the man she had bewitched, there grew that sullen and ominous silence of presentiment like that preceding a storm, and which boded but one end to them both—death.
José and Dick were the first to apprise the Captain of the true state of affairs, although he had not remained insensible to the threatening looks and dark, sullen faces that greeted him on every hand.
"The place has become too hot to hold you, old man," said Dick. "You and Chiquita had better go somewhere for a littlepasear. You'll find the air in the mountains more salubrious than here; in fact—vamos, as the Spaniards say. Go to Padre Antonio's house at once," he continued. "It's a sort of a sanctuary, you know; you'll be safe there to-day. If you value your life, don't set foot outside the place, and I'd even be chary about picking flowers in the garden," he added in his droll way. "To-night, José and I will have your horses ready and waiting for you in the cañon at the foot of the trail which leads to the top of themesaoverlooking the valley. You must get away undercover of the dusk before the moon rises. Old Manuela will give you the signal when to depart."
"Dick, you are the most ingenious mortal in the world," answered the Captain. "You are as good as a mother to me. How did you ever think of it?"
"Oh! don't thank me," returned Dick. "I didn't think of it; I never have any ideas. It's José's plan entirely."
"The deuce! It does sound like you,camarada!" he ejaculated, turning to José who had smoked hiscigarilloin silence while listening to Dick's words. "The scheme sounds well," he continued after some moments' reflection. "And yet it seems to me you have overlooked something—the most important thing of all."
"What?" asked Dick.
"How are you going to get the horses there without attracting attention? It's just possible that the entire populace might escort you there and then hang all four of us when Chiquita and I arrive."
"Ah! I never thought of that," replied Dick, flicking the ash from his cigar and exchanging glances with José. "I always said you had the imagination of a poet, Jack. But it takes an Indian to think of such things; the horses are concealed already in the cañon, a quarter of a mile from the trail."
"Si, Capitan.I took them there last night," said José.
"Last night?"
"Yes. You see, it was this way. I saw the fight last night—"
"You did?"
"Si, Capitan.It was a glorious fight, the greatest fight I ever saw. I followed Don Felipe last night and surely would have killed him had I not seen the Señorita draw her weapon. I knew that it was her right to kill him."
"You observe José's exquisite sense of discrimination," interrupted Dick. "It's the etiquette of the land," he added with a twinkle in his eye, his face betraying not so much as the suggestion of a smile. Captain Forest could have laughed at Dick's irresistible humor were it not for the terrible tragedy which rested heavily upon him.
"Well," continued José, "while you and the Señorita stood beside the beautifulAmericana, I bethought me that it was about time we were leaving this place. You did not know that the two women, Manuela and Juana, and the Padre's gardener, Sebastiano, also witnessed the shooting. I told Sebastiano to get the Señorita's horse out of the stable at once and wait outside in the shadow of the wall on the far side of the garden until I returned. I then hurried back here and got away unobserved with our horses, picking up the Señorita's and Sebastiano on the way to the cañon where I left them in the latter's charge. They will hardly be missed to-day, I think," he added; "the excitement is too great. Go now quietly to Padre Antonio's and wait there until Manuela gives you the word to depart." José paused. Then casting a quick glance about him, he took a fresh puff at hiscigarilloand said: "Until then,á Dios, SeñorCapitan!" and assuming an indifferent air, as though nothing unusual had occurred, he sauntered quietly away.
"That man's a genius!" said Dick, looking after him until he disappeared around the corner of the house.
"It was a lucky day for you when you picked him up. If you get away at all to-night, you'll owe your lives to him. Nothing but his wits could have saved you. You had better be going now," he added. "Go directly to the Padre's and attract as little attention as possible on the way.
"Este noche, amigo mio—to-night, my friend," he concluded in Spanish, and turning, lounged carelessly through the doorway into the house.
"I hearnothing," said José, rising from the ground where he had been lying flat with his ear close to the earth.
"They have given us up!" exclaimed the Captain, turning in the saddle and addressing Chiquita who also had been scanning their back trail in the effort to discover a sign of their lost pursuers.
"We have tired them out," she answered, lowering her hand from her eyes.
They had escaped—they were free. Padre Antonio had married them on the afternoon of the previous day.
"If I am still alive, and God grant that it may be so," he said on parting, "I shall see you next spring when I visit the Missions in the North."
The flight had been a swift and perilous one. They had traveled the entire night and day, pausing only long enough to allow their horses short breathing spells and time to slake their thirst at the springs and streams they encountered in their flight. Like their horses, all three were thoroughly tired, and their clothes torn and dust begrimed.
"We'll camp yonder, José," said the Captain, pointing to a thick group of pines that grew on the opposite side of the stream on whose bank they had halted. They had arrived at the foot of the Sierra Madres from whoseside the stream burst and along whose banks their trail led to the upper world where it dropped down again on the other side of the great mountainous divide into Sonora.
"It's like the old days!" cried Chiquita, laughing as they splashed through the stream to the opposite bank, the water rising to their saddle-girths. Drawing rein at the outer rim of the pines, they dismounted and removed their saddles and packs, the latter consisting of a pair of blankets apiece and a week's rations equally distributed among them; coffee, sugar, bacon, beans and flour and a few necessary utensils. These they carried into the center of the grove and deposited in a circle on the ground.
José led away the horses and while he was occupied in picketing them, the Captain gathered an armful of dry wood for the fire, and then picking up a canvas bucket, strolled to the river and filled it with water.
Chiquita had already lit the fire when he returned. She filled the coffee pot with water, cut some slices of bacon and tossed them into a pan which she placed on the fire and then began to mix some flour and water. The Captain leaned against the trunk of one of the trees and rolling a cigarette, lit it, watching her the while. Chiquita laughed softly, but said nothing while engaged in the process of bread-making. This homely touch of camp-life told plainer than words how thoroughly they had come down to earth and again were facing the wholesome realities of life. When the dough was of the right consistency, she molded it into biscuits, placed them in a deep pan, and raking some coals fromthe fire, set the pan upon them, also depositing some coals on the top of the cover. After giving the bacon a final turn in the pan, she set it to one side close to the fire where it would keep warm.
She then rose to her feet and stood erect. As she did so, one of the great strands of her hair which had become loosened during their flight, fell in a soft curling mass of blue jet down her back to within a few inches of her ankles. Captain Forest did not know then that it was a sign of her royal lineage.
Once upon a time in the dim past, so far back that nobody could remember when it had occurred, a Tewana woman had given birth to a beautiful girl child with wonderful hair in the same year that a wandering star with a great tail had appeared in the heavens. The coincidence seemed nothing short of miraculous to the people. The Sachems of the tribe pronounced the child to be consecrated and chosen to rule over them by the gods. So it had been decreed, and ever since then, all Tewana women who had ruled over the people had possessed this distinctive mark of their royal lineage and bore the name, "Flaming Star."
Chiquita crossed over to where the Captain still stood leaning against the tree and, pausing before him, looked up into his face and said: "What are you thinking of, Sweetheart?" He flung his arms about her and kissed her.
"I am still wondering," he answered, "how it all happened. It seems so strange, and yet so natural."
"Just what I, too, have been thinking," she returned."And yet it is no more remarkable than what our entire lives have been. It could not be otherwise."
"No," he replied. "I would not have it different for worlds. It's just as it should be—just as it has been decreed."
"Come!" she said, leading him over to where her pack lay on the ground. "I've got something for you," and kneeling on the ground, she began unrolling her blankets, out of which she took a small package which, on being opened, contained two pairs of beautifully beaded moccasins; one pair of which she handed to him.
"It's just like you, Chiquitamia!" he exclaimed. "I always wear them in camp, but in the hurry to get away, I forgot mine. I'm glad I forgot them though," he added, holding up the moccasins and admiring them. "How did you come to think of them?"
"I can't say," she answered. "One afternoon about a month ago while at thePosada, I noticed your footprint in the gravel path in the garden where you had been talking to the girls but a few moments before. Things, as you know, were rather uncertain then, nevertheless, something impelled me to take the measure and make them; thinking that possibly you might want them some day. Besides, it was such sweet work, you know," she added with a little laugh.
"Chiquita—you're a wonderful woman! You not only seem to be able to do everything, but you think of everything as well," and kneeling on the ground before her, he drew off her riding boots and slipped her moccasins on her feet.
"It is the bridal gift of an Indian girl to her husband," she said caressingly. "And signifies that they shall tread the same path together through life."
"What could be more beautiful!" he returned, pulling off his boots and drawing on his own. "Ah!" he continued, "it was worth waiting for you Chiquitamia! The long years of uncertainty and suffering seem as nothing, now that I look back upon them and you have come into my life."
Just then José returned from the work of picketing the horses and the three sat down to supper.
"Isn'tit strange how easily one can return to the natural life if one has known it before?" said Chiquita later in the evening, as the three lay stretched on their blankets around the small fire which José had kindled in the center of the grove, and watched the flickering flames and dancing shadows against the dark pine boughs surrounding them.
"The life of yesterday has fallen from me," she continued, gazing pensively into the fire whose red glare illumined her beautiful bronze features.
"Yes, you are an Indian once more, Chiquitamia," said the Captain.
"Ah! you are as much of an Indian as José or myself!" she retorted gayly. "What a pity you didn't know the life before the land was conquered and tamed by the White man! Verily, a glory has passed from this earth!" A peculiar light shone in José's eyes as he listened to her words. He seemed on the point of speaking, but did not. He smiled and rolled a freshcigarillo, lighting it with a pine twig which he took from the fire.
"Tell me why you insisted on our coming this way, Chiquita?" asked the Captain, disposing himself comfortably on his blanket.
"Because I want to see my people again. They are the strongest and most advanced people in Mexico, and we will be safe with them until things have quieted down. Because I wanted you to see where I came from and how I lived before Padre Antonio introduced me to a new world and made of me a woman that you could love. Besides, we can start from their country on our camping trip as well as from any other place. My people are not quite the savages you probably think them. But there is something else," she continued after a pause. "I was impelled, drawn this way. Why, I can not say, but something always kept pointing me toward the northwest. I feel as though the climax of our lives is yet to come; that we are on the verge of something great; that our work in life may begin with them."
"Perhaps it may be so!" interrupted José, no longer able to conceal the agitation her words aroused in him. "That is, if the vision of the White Cloud prove to be true. At any rate, my people await your coming," he added. At the mention of the White Cloud, Chiquita sat bolt upright, regarding José intently the while—then rose to her feet.
"The White Cloud? Your people?" she repeated excitedly. "Then you are a Tewana?" José also had risen from his sitting posture, and dropping on one knee with face downward and both arms extended straight out before him with the palms of the hands turned downward, he exclaimed in the Tewana tongue: "Princess, Flaming Star—I greet you! I am Onakipo, the Pine Tree, son of Ixlao, the Swan!" José's attitude and manner of speech formed a moststriking picture. He had not even revealed his true identity to the Captain.
Chiquita had noticed the furtive, stolen glances he had cast at her from time to time during the journey, a thing strange in an Indian, and it caused her some uneasiness, but now she understood. He had just acknowledged her by his attitude of submission and the salute common to his people, as their tribal head.
"You and I, Princess, were the sole survivors of that last battle in which your father's band was annihilated," continued José in Spanish, seating himself once more on the ground on the other side of the fire opposite Chiquita who again had taken her place beside the Captain.
"I do not wonder that you did not recognize me," he went on after a pause, during which he rolled and lit a freshcigarillo. "I was a mere boy at the time. The battle, you will remember, took place just before sunset, and when the enemy charged our camp, I was struck on the head, as you see by the scar over my left eye. I fell over a ledge of rock into a gully below, alighting in a thick clump of bushes, breaking my fall and saving my life. Fortunately the bushes concealed me from view, causing the enemy to overlook me, else they certainly had finished me before departing. I lay unconscious all that night until noon of the following day, when I awoke. For a long time after awakening I was too weak to rise, but finally I managed to crawl to the little stream that ran at the bottom of the gully just below me. There I slaked my thirst and washedmy face and wound and bound it up as best I could. All that afternoon I lay by the stream, drinking and dipping my head in the water until evening, when I regained sufficient strength to crawl back to the top of the great rock where we made our last stand.
"There, a ghastly sight met my eyes. With his back against a large bowlder where the enemy had placed him, sat your father, the Whirlwind, still dressed in his war regalia and around him, just as they had fallen, lay our dead comrades. I counted them. There were forty-eight in all, and as you were not among the dead, I rightly conjectured, as it soon afterward proved, that you had been taken prisoner. Three weeks later I succeeded in reaching our people and told the news. A war party was organized immediately, and I guided it back to the land of the Ispali where after a battle, we learned of your capture and escape from several of the Ispali whom we succeeded in capturing.
"That was ten years ago, and ever since then, we have sent out runners each year to visit the towns and villages throughout the land in the hope of finding you and bringing you back again to rule over us; for as you know, Princess, you are the last of the royal blood. But in vain. In spite of the fact that the White Cloud, our great Sachem, said you were still alive, that he repeatedly saw you among the living in his visions and predicted your return, we found no trace of you. That was because we had overlooked Santa Fé. It lies so far east of our country that it escaped our notice. We never imagined that you had crossed the Sierra Madresin your flight, and had I not chanced to enter the Captain's service, we probably never would have heard of you again.
"But now I understand that it was so intended—that the time was not yet ripe. That the Great Spirit had ordained you should not return to your people until you had become worthy of the charge which is about to be conferred upon you, and which, as you shall presently learn, goes to prove the truth of the subsequent prophecies the White Cloud made concerning you." He paused and for some minutes gazed silently into the fire. He had accompanied his narrative with intense, dramatic gestures and expressions illustrative of its incidents; a characteristic common to his race. Presently a smile lit up his face and looking up once more, he resumed.
"You remember, Princess, how the White Cloud counseled us to accept the terms of the Government, bad though they were, and make peace, and prophesied that disaster would befall us if we refused. Well, then as now, events have proved the truth of his words. As the years went by and no further trace of you could be found, the people lost hope of ever seeing you again and said you were dead. But the White Cloud maintained that you were still alive; that the day of your return was drawing ever nearer; that he heard the song of birds and the sound of laughing waters and beheld the desert carpeted with flowers in his vision and you in their midst coming towards them, which typified the renewal of life and rebirth of the nation. But when he announced that he always saw you in the companyof a white man who later should rule over us, they laughed at his prophecies.
"'A white man rule over the Tewana? How absurd—impossible!' They shook their heads and said: 'The White Cloud is old—his vision has become dim, impaired through age!'"
The Captain and Chiquita were too amazed by José's words to venture a reply, and sat gazing alternately at one another and then at the speaker.
"When I first met the Captain," continued José, "I wondered greatly why I was so drawn toward him. True, he was a man to my liking and I was doubly grateful to him for saving my life, but that did not wholly account for my attachment. I was drawn to him irresistibly as by an invisible power. I could not leave him; and when I again saw you, Princess, on the day that you and the beautiful Señorita met for the first time and heard from your own lips who you were as well as your avowal of love for my Master, I knew then that the White Cloud had read rightly the future; that my Master, the Grand Señor, had been chosen by the Great Spirit to rule with you over our people.
"It was then that I learned how you had come to Padre Antonio, after which I returned to our people and told them what I knew; that I had found not only you, but also the White Chief whom the White Cloud had seen in his vision, and that, if you returned to them at all, it would surely be as his bride. At first they would not believe me, but when I persisted and reminded them of the disasters that had befallen us in the past for our failure to heed the White Cloud's councils, theyat last yielded and called a grand council and decided to send a deputation composed of the leading men of the nation to verify my statements.
"It was not so much the news that you were still alive that was so difficult for them to believe, but that a white man should rule over them—a thing impossible and past all belief; besides, they would not have it. However, when I conducted the deputation, consisting of six of our leading men, to Santa Fé and they secretly beheld you, Princess, they one and all exclaimed as with one breath: ''Tis she, the Princess—the Flaming Star! How like her father, the Whirlwind, she is!'
"They wanted to disclose their identity to you then and there and exhort you to return with them to your people, but I persuaded them to wait, reminding them that the White Cloud's prophecy was not yet entirely fulfilled. I then showed you to them, Master," he went on, addressing the Captain, "and although they acknowledged that you were a magnificent specimen of a man and had the appearance of one born to command, they shook their heads and said it was impossible—that a White Chief could never rule over the Tewana.
"'Of a truth,' I answered, 'the black-robed Padres are right! You are a stiff-necked people who persist in following in the footsteps of our forefathers who, we all know, were unable to lead the people to the light. Only the White Cloud was able to foresee the future; grasp the significance of both the Padres' and our ancient Sachems' teachings. That the old order of things had come to an end. That the time had come when strifemust cease among men; that the tidings were now to be fulfilled which the White Child with a face like the sun had brought to the world, and whose coming our ancient Sachems had predicted in the ancient days. Know also, that the Princess has seen the great world which you have not seen; that in many ways she is more like a white woman than one of our race; that she is wiser than you are; that the Great Spirit has shown her the things that are good for us, and if she becomes the wife of the White Chief, you must accept him if you accept her, for without him she will never return to you. Besides, the White Chief is the wisest of us all. In his sight both we and most of the men of his own race are as children.'
"They could not find a fitting answer to my words and returned to our people. Ever since then runners have been coming and going constantly between us. They have been apprised of our coming and await us." José ceased speaking and sat gazing meditatively into the fire where he watched the pink and violet flames leap upward and lose themselves in the thin wreath of white smoke which slowly ascended and floated away over the tree tops. For some time no one spoke, then Captain Forest finally broke the silence.
"What you say, José, is truly wonderful; but know, that we have no more desire to rule the Tewana than to rule other men. But should they, like the rest of the world, fail to heed our example, they shall perish in their ignorance." He leaned forward and tossed some fresh sticks of wood on the fire.
"It is time for the first watch, José," he continued,rising to his feet and glancing up at the stars visible above the tree tops. "Call me when the Great Bear has half circled the Pole Star. I'll keep the second watch."
Josébrought in the horses and he and the Captain saddled and packed them; after which they silently broke camp in the light of the stars and the waning moon. José took his place at the head of the little cavalcade, Chiquita following him and the Captain bringing up the rear; he and Chiquita casting a last look at their first camp as they rode away.
No one spoke. Save for the measured tread of the horses and noise of the rushing stream along which the trail led upwards, no sounds disturbed the silence of the night. Now and then an occasional spark, struck from the horses' iron-rimmed hoofs, flashed for an instant in the darkness along the trail.
The Captain's gaze was riveted upon Chiquita's tall, erect figure in front of him who ever and anon turned in the saddle and smiled, her beautiful, lustrous eyes flashing like stars in the moon-fire.
Higher and higher they mounted, pausing occasionally to allow the horses time to draw breath, until they at length drew rein on the summit of the Sierra Madres. Here a wonderful sight met their eyes, poised as they were upon the rim of the earth and gazing off into star-strewn space. Dawn was just breaking, suffusing the long line of the eastern horizon with a soft, rosyglow which crept swiftly towards them over the gray-green, purple plains that swept away from the mountains' base like vast undulating stretches of ocean; the golden shafts of the on-coming dawn driving the paling stars before them like a shepherd his flocks to the hills. North and south, as far as the eye could reach, stretched the broken and many crested length of the great Sierra Madre range; its sides clothed with dark forests of cedar and pine and chaparral, its secluded recesses obscured in the gloom; its highest peaks glowing with golden, pink and violet tints. In the west, surrounded by a host of golden stars that still glittered in the purple black depths of vanishing night, the silver moon hung half-way dipped as it slowly sank behind the towering crest of the Sahuaripa range, an isolated spur of the Sierra Madres. A vast plain intervened between them and the distant Sierras at whose foot dwelt the Tewana.
Far below them, from out the shadowy depths on either side of the range, arose faint sounds of awakening life. The breeze began to sigh among the tree tops, while high above them they heard the wild scream of eagles that soared in great circles with widespread pinions in their morning flight to greet the sun. Great waves of indefinable melody, more subtle and exquisite than music, swept over them, causing their souls to quicken and tingle in the freshening dawn as the Day Star rose to hold again his sway over earth. His mighty splendor and effulgence swept through and over them, their souls vibrating with renewed life and vigor as they felt and recognized God's sign and immanenceas in the days when man first walked with Him in the cool of the morning.
They realized that they had entered upon the new life. The promise was fulfilled—the veil was lifted. The scroll of human destiny seemed to unroll itself from out the dim traditions of the past, and they beheld as in a dream the life that was when first the children of men roamed the earth and established the Kingdom of God which was intended from the beginning. In the picture of the golden childhood of the race, they beheld reflected in the new light of the future, the vision of the emancipated, delivered man, guided by the lessons still to be learned from the great Book of Nature lying open before him, and the accumulated wisdom of past ages, handed down to him by his forefathers through travail and suffering and in legend and song from those ancient days of suns and nights of stars when the earth and man were young. Afreeborn race of men who are joint tenants of the soil, sharing all things in common with which their bountiful Mother, the Earth, has provided them. A race of men, athletic in body as they are able in mind, and spiritual and courageous, recognizing no laws but those of Nature's or God's.
In silence and with bared heads they gazed upon the grandeur of the scene that lay spread out before them. It was as though they looked back upon the old life from another world. It lay so far behind them that it seemed but a memory; not a vestige of it clung to them, so filled were they with new hopes and aspirations.
"Behold!" cried José excitedly, pointing toward the west. And looking in the direction indicated by hisoutstretched arm, they beheld in the dim distance numerous columns of smoke rising heavenward in the clear morning air from the tops of themesasthat dotted the plain.
"'Tis the sign of your coming, Princess!" he continued. "The people have bowed to the will of the White Cloud—acknowledged the authority of the White Chief."
Parrakeets began to twitter among the branches of the trees on every hand during their descent of the western slope. Ravens croaked and called from the heart of the forest, and the owl flitted by on silent wing. Black birds with orange heads and throats and splashed with scarlet on their wings, greeted them at the foot of the mountain among the reeds which grew along the stream they were following. Deer broke from the willow copse and bounded away, while grouse rose on whirring wings from under the horses' hoofs as they emerged upon the plain where the wild cry of the curlew rang clear and sharp on the morning. They were free and breathed deep of the spirit of freedom; listened to the old primeval song of nature's myriad voices; gazed long upon the pristine loveliness of earth.
All that day and the three following, the columns of smoke continued to rise heavenward as they pursued their journey. At night, pillars of fire took the place of the smoke, and all the while, save for an occasional glimpse in the distance of a solitary horseman who faded specterlike from view on their approach, they saw not a soul.
The Spirit of the Great Mystery brooded over theland, and they rode as in a dream. The fragrant cedar and piñon-scented smoke mingled with the soft, thin haze of the Indian summer which veiled the land in its golden glow of mystery; the sacred incense, the Red men say, of the gods, burned on their altars in ancient days; a sign to the people to gather each year on the hilltops andmesas, and in the forests and plains during the moon of falling leaves, and celebrate in prayer and sacred dance and song, the advent of the gods.
The wind was hushed and all things seemed to sleep and dream, and they seemed to draw nearer to the heart of things. The great change that had come into their lives was, after all, no more wonderful than the changes which they saw had taken place in nature about them. A luxuriant growth of tropical vegetation, succeeded by vast forests of conifers, a remnant of which still survived upon the mountains, once flourished in the semi-desert through which they traveled. An occasional broken, half-buried pillar, or the remains of a crumbling wall that had witnessed the passing of the ages and listened to the tales borne on the winds, marked the existence of vanished civilizations of which men to-day know naught. All things appeared to change and fade, nothing seemed permanent, not even the ideal; the morrow was but a forgetting.
Beneath them they felt the Earth, ponderous and weighty and crushing in its immensity to the imagination, and whose existence seemed of little moment in comparison to the countless worlds that filled the universe about them. Yet, insignificant though it appeared, was it not a link in the great universal scheme of matter, and did it not stand in the same relation to the universe as their individual lives to the human race?
Like two stars their souls had rushed together from the uttermost confines of space. She had been led into his world, and he compelled to retrace his steps to almost primitive conditions in order that they might find one another and together take up the thread of their common destiny. Clearly, they were children of destiny upon whose brows God had set His seal. They realized that the path which lay before them was not one entirely strewn with flowers. That between the chosen ones, life meant something more than the love of a man for a woman, or a woman's for a man. That they still stood with their feet in the flame; that earth's cup of joy for them must still remain one of bitter-sweet; that they must go on to the end in order that men might see and hear; that the new order of things must spring from them.
Gay was the Princess. She laughed and talked and related incidents of her life and her people; the silvery tinkle of the bells on her spurs, accompanying every movement of her horse, chimed sweetly with her mood. In the raven folds of her blue-black hair, she wore again the red berries as on the day when first he beheld her. She seemed a part of that tawny landscape, splashed with great patches of crimson and gold and gray and purple—the spirit and incarnation of the Indian summer.
As he gazed upon her and listened to her words, the wild refrain of those familiar lines recurred to him: