"Chiquita danced in public? I can't understand it!" he said aloud after Senora Fernandez had disappeared in the house. "And she interested in this Captain Forest?" His face grew livid and then black with hatred as a fresh wave of rage and jealousy swept over him.

"No, no; it cannot be!" he gasped, his left hand resting over his heart as though in pain. For some time he remained motionless as a statue, lost in thought with his eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly he raised his head with a quick jerk. His face no longer wore an expression of pain and anguish, but one of settled, calm determination.

"I have come just in time," he said quietly. He smiled, and drawing forth his cigarette-case once more, he opened it and lit a fresh cigarette.

XII

Dona Fernandez could not sleep. All night long she tossed on her bed, repeating her conversation with Don Felipe and revolving what course to pursue. She instinctively felt that a great tragedy of some kind was imminent. Unless some plan of concerted action were immediately adopted, nothing could prevent it.

She knew her people too well. A reckless, hot-blooded man like Don Felipe in his present mood could not be trusted for long, but must sooner or later provoke a quarrel with Captain Forest, who she knew, would be equally dangerous if aroused. Since her conversation with Felipe she had noted the att.i.tude of Blanch toward the Captain and her woman's instinct had half guessed the truth. But beautiful and irresistible though Blanch appeared, there was Chiquita, more beautiful and attractive than when Felipe had last seen her, and also quite as dangerous.

She knew that Felipe's pa.s.sion was hopeless--that Chiquita would not hesitate to show her dislike and contempt for him anew--that should Captain Forest be attracted to her also, she would act like a fire-brand between the two men. If only one of them might be persuaded to leave the place, the clash which must inevitably occur, might be averted for a time at least, but this was clearly impossible. There was only one thing to be done for the present--advise Chiquita of Felipe's return and warn her of the danger that threatened them all if she provoked him unnecessarily.

Hopeless though this plan seemed, Chiquita might for the Captain's sake, if she really cared for him, act more discreetly than was her wont. But what could be expected from a woman in love? Who could tell how she would act? Besides, she argued, all men are fools. They seem to be born only to become the playthings of women, the majority of whom are invariably deceived by them in the end.

How she hated her! To think of Don Felipe running after her, eating out his heart, throwing away his young life for one like her! A love like his going begging! Merciful G.o.d! was there no justice in this world? And for the moment, she was quite carried away by a paroxysm of fury.

Ah, if only she, Dona Fernandez, were but ten years younger! But the chosen birds of Venus, the white doves of matrimony, were not destined to hover over her head a second time. Tears of longing and vexation dimmed her eyes as she thought of the golden, halcyon days of youth that would never return. At any rate, Felipe and Chiquita must not meet until after she had warned the latter. Blanch must be used as a foil as long as possible.

And so it happened that, when breakfast was over, Senora adroitly arranged that Felipe should conduct the two girls for a morning's ramble to the pretty little canon of the river which lay but a mile distant from the town where the foothills began; a plan that suited Blanch perfectly. She, too, had been doing some thinking over night and had recognized the possibility of using Don Felipe as a foil against Jack; he was certainly handsome and clever enough to serve the purpose admirably.

Captain Forest had gone for a ride an hour before for the purpose of giving his horse a short run to the foothills and back. So, when Senora had seen the others safely off, she slipped quietly away in the direction of Padre Antonio's house.

It lacked a quarter of eleven when she left the house. She knew that Chiquita would have long since returned from the market and would be at home. So occupied was she with her thoughts as she hurried forward intent upon her mission, she did not look up until she turned into the road leading directly past Padre Antonio's gate, when she suddenly stopped short. Before her she beheld Captain Forest standing in front of the gate holding his horse, and Chiquita handing him a red rose. Another instant, and Chiquita vanished through the gate into the garden and Captain Forest, remounting his horse, came riding leisurely down the road at a walk, inhaling the rose with evident pleasure. She drew back into the shadow of the old wall and pressed close into the thick bushy ma.s.s of white clematis vine which hung over it from above and waited until he pa.s.sed.

It is the unexpected that always happens. The meeting between Chiquita and the Captain was purely accidental. While returning from his ride, he had been attracted by the beauty and luxuriance of Padre Antonio's garden as he rode by. He wheeled his horse about and drew rein before the open iron grating of the gate in order to obtain a better view of it. Its flowers consisted chiefly of roses of different varieties and colors. The air was spicy with their perfume and, as he inhaled their fragrance in deep breaths, his attention was presently attracted by the figure of Chiquita who appeared in the pathway before him, pausing beside a luxuriant bush of blood-red blossoms and apparently quite unconscious of his presence. The picture which she presented was one he carried with him for many a day afterward.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The picture which she presented was one he carried with him for many a day."]

A small white dove strutted and cooed on the ground before her, while another flew down from the house-top and after circling above her head, also settled down beside its mate in the pathway.

She was dressed in a short pale green skirt and bodice, the latter cut low at the neck before and behind. The sleeves were short, reaching to the elbow and terminating in a narrow frill of deep saffron, their sides open and interlaced with silvery cords. Two richly embroidered silken shawls of a pale red color with long fringe and worn in Spanish style, adorned her dress. The one, pinned at the waist at the back and following the outline of the bodice, pa.s.sed up over her left shoulder and down in front to her breast where it was fastened with a golden brooch, the end falling in a graceful length of fringe. The other, also fastened at the back of her waist, pa.s.sed around her right hip and diagonally down across the front of her skirt. Golden poppies adorned the heavy ma.s.ses of her l.u.s.trous black hair, worn high and held in place by a silver comb. A saffron lace mantilla of the same deep shade as that of the frill on her sleeves, fell in graceful folds from the comb to her shoulders, while her feet were clothed in silk stockings of the same shade and soft brown beaded slippers of undressed leather.

To complete this costume which only a Gypsy or one of Chiquita's tawny complexion would have dared essay to wear, a small pale red silken fan ornamented with gold and silver spangles, hung suspended from her wrist by a satin ribbon of deep orange which flashed in the sunlight like a splash of gold on a humming-bird's throat.

It was not by some happy chance that the Captain found her arrayed in such finery, as is so often the case with heroines of romance, but the result of much premeditation and studied effect. Ever since her meeting with Blanch she had dressed herself daily with terrible deliberation and nicety of precision, the same as every woman of flesh and blood would have done under the circ.u.mstances, on the chance of Captain Forest finding her at home when he came to pay his respects to the Padre as he had intimated he would do.

The thought of the innumerable dresses possessed by her rival, and the scantiness of her own wardrobe, composed though it was of the richest laces, silks and satins in the style of a past era, was something appalling; enough to turn a stouter heart than hers. And had she been anything else than an Indian, she would have sat down on the floor of her room in the midst of her finery and wept copious and bitter tears like the daughters of Babylon of old. The thought of the old dress which she had worn on the day of their meeting was not alone mortifying--it was excruciating. One of those things which we hasten to forget.

_Dios!_ how she must have looked to him in the regal presence of Blanch, gowned in her stylish traveling costume!

Don Felipe Ramirez would have kissed the dust from off the hem of such an old garment, but would Captain Forest do the same? She could not afford to take any more risks with a rival like Blanch in the field.

There is no knowing how long Captain Forest would have remained a silent spectator of the charming picture she presented, had not her attention been attracted by the sound of Starlight's hoofs as he began to paw the ground impatiently. She raised her head from the bush over which she was bending and turned her gaze in the direction of the gate.

"Oh!" she cried with a little start, silently regarding the Captain for some moments. Then a smile slowly wreathed her lips and she broke into a light laugh. Her right hand involuntarily sought her fan which slowly opened across the lower half of her face and she shot a glance at him over its rim with an ease and grace which only Spanish women have ever succeeded in mastering. The effect of this deft bit of coquetry, simple and natural as were all her actions, was not lost upon the Captain.

"I don't know whether I love you or not," it said plainly as words, "but henceforth you shall be my slave."

"How long have you been there?" she asked at length, slowly lowering her fan.

"Only an instant, Senorita," he replied, raising his hat. "I was wondering," he continued, "whether it would be too much to ask you for one of those roses? One would not be missed among so many."

"Ah, but they are precious, Senor _Capitan_--these especially; they are my favorites," and she swept her hand caressingly over the bush beside which she was standing.

"For that reason I shall prize it all the more, Senorita."

"Ah! you men have a way of using flattery to women whenever you want anything of them. And yet," she continued with just the suggestion of a frown, "a woman would be hard hearted to refuse--" Her eyes dropped for an instant, then looking up again, she said hesitatingly: "I wonder if I can trust you?"

"Try me," he pleaded.

"I know it's foolish, but rather than have you think me less generous than the women you have known, I shall give you one little one, Captain Forest, that is, on condition you never ask me for another," and breaking off one of the largest half-blown blossoms, she held it in her hand as though loath to part with it.

"I promise," said the Captain solemnly, dismounting and holding his horse by the rein. "I dare not leave my horse, Senorita," he added in a tone of embarra.s.sment, "he is unaccustomed to a town and feels strange, and should he take it into his head to bolt, he might do the first person he met an injury."

"Indeed? I have often thought of your horse and wondered where you got him. But," she continued reluctantly, "since you cannot come to me, I suppose I must come to you," and pa.s.sing through the gate, she stood before him, rose in hand.

"A truly magnificent animal," she said, running her hand gently along Starlight's neck. "I've been accustomed to horses from childhood and can't help admiring a good one when I see it."

Much to the Captain's surprise, the Chestnut did not resent her touch, but whinnied softly instead and laid his nose on her shoulder. Any one else but Jose and himself he would have seized with his teeth. Perhaps it was her way of approaching and handling him, or was it the subtle influence of that mysterious kinship which exists between the wild things--strange and inexplicable to all but themselves?

"I thought I possessed the only pure Arab in Mexico," she continued.

"He's a small black horse with a white star in his forehead, and has never been beaten. You should look at the Raven some time--he would interest you," she added.

"I should like to. Arabs are rare on this side of the Atlantic. Where did you get him?"

"He was a present from Count Don Louis de Ortega, of the City of Mexico."

"Count Louis de Ortega?"

"Yes. He is the most charming old gentleman I know. He is Padre Antonio's great friend."

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Captain as though relieved.

"I once spent a summer traveling in Europe with the Ortega family. But here is your rose, Captain Forest. I almost believe you forgot it.

Horses are so much more interesting than flowers," and handing him the rose, she was back again in the garden before he could thank her.

"_a Dios, Capitan_ Forest," she continued with the softest accent imaginable, lingering unconsciously on his name as she paused on the other side of the gate. Again the little fan opened, and looking back over it with a bewitching smile and arched eyebrows and her head held coquettishly on one side, she said as if to herself: "I wonder how long he will keep it?"

His heart gave a great throb as he gazed upon that subtle, bewitching vision before him, "Forever, Senorita!" he was about to reply, but she was gone.

It might be argued that a woman of Chiquita's metal would not have shown her hand thus lightly. Let his infernal beast bolt and trample the whole town in the dust and himself in the bargain. If he wanted the rose, let him come and get it; not a step would she move! Possibly, but let it not be forgotten that she was in love--desperately in love; that the time for quibbling had pa.s.sed, that another woman equally fair would have unhesitatingly waded through a river to deliver that rose to the Captain had he asked for it. Destiny had placed Captain Forest in the saddle, just as it had decreed that Don Felipe Ramirez should pa.s.s the remainder of his days pursuing an illusive vision. If nature and convention now swarmed at the Captain's saddle-bow, surely it was no fault of his. Had he not burnt his last bridge, snapped his fingers in the face of the world, and turned his back upon it and ridden forth in search of the lost kingdom of Earth?