XIII

"The jade--coquetting openly on the highroad!" cried the Senora furiously, stepping out from the shadow of the wall after the Captain had disappeared down the road.

"Will she stop at nothing? It's true, she loves him! What would Don Felipe do had he witnessed what she had just seen?" and she shuddered as she paused breathlessly before the high iron gate, her cheeks aglow and her eyes flashing with indignation. Cautiously pushing open the gate which stood ajar, she paused for an instant on the inside, casting her eyes nervously about her in search of Chiquita, but seeing no one, she advanced slowly along the walk leading in the direction of the house.

She had not far to go before she came upon the object of her quest, seated on a rough stone bench in the shade of a thick cl.u.s.ter of tamarisk bushes which grew close to the wall.

The surprise Chiquita felt on seeing the Senora standing before her so unexpectedly, caused her to let fall the book which she was vainly endeavoring to read--an action which the Senora regarded as an admission of her guilt; and she exulted in her evident embarra.s.sment.

The episode of the rose had caused her to quite forget her mission for the moment. From her general air of excitement, flushed face and flashing eyes, Chiquita rightly conjectured that something unusual had happened and that an outburst of some sort or other was imminent. It came like an explosion.

"Holy Virgin!" she cried, eyeing Chiquita critically. "What is the meaning of this; dressed in your very best? Is this the Sabbath, or one of the blessed Saints' days, or perhaps a Palm-Sunday that you should array yourself thus? Mother of G.o.d! when has it become the fashion for young ladies to disport themselves in their best clothes on common, ordinary week days? Why, 'tis not even a Fish-Friday! Merciful Heaven!

to what are we coming?" she gasped between breaths, clasping her hands and glancing heavenward. "Do such dresses grow upon bushes that they are so easily obtained? Doubtless," she concluded with withering sarcasm, "when they are worn threadbare as they soon will be owing to such constant usage, you will purchase others with those golden _pesos_ which you earned so recently."

Chiquita, accustomed to the Senora's outbursts, did not deign an immediate reply, but sat quietly fanning herself, a faint smile wreathing her lips; she was thoroughly enjoying the Senora's discomfort.

What would not the latter give to know something concerning those _pesos_? Chiquita's composure under the fire of her words only tended to increase her irritation.

"Oh, I know why you have thus suddenly turned the peac.o.c.k! You do not deceive me! You have arrayed yourself thus for the grand Senor--_Capitan_ Forest."

"Bah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Chiquita composedly, as though nothing unusual were taking place. "Is that all you have to say Dona Fernandez?"

"All! Is that not enough? Holy G.o.d!" she cried with increasing vexation.

"You are in love--in love, I say!" A ripple of laughter bubbled over the two rosy petals of Chiquita's lips, revealing the pearly whiteness of her teeth. Now that she realized the real cause of the Senora's anger, it was impossible to become angry herself. The Senora, however, was by no means abashed by Chiquita's indifference, and vigorously renewed the attack.

"So our little ring-dove is in love, is she?" she continued mockingly, strutting back and forth before her. "You think _Capitan_ Forest will notice you in that finery--that he will fall in love with you and will marry you, and that you will become a grand lady like the Senorita Lennox and ride in a fine carriage for the rest of your days. _Mercedes Dios!_ and all because you have succeeded in turning the heads of a few country b.u.mpkins that hang about the place casting sheep's-eyes at you.

Ha, ha, ha!" she laughed derisively. "Believe me, when _Capitan_ Forest makes up his mind to marry, he will not stoop so low to pick up so little."

"Dona Fernandez!" said Chiquita sharply rising from the bench with an ominous look in her eyes.

"Foolish child," Senora went on without heeding her, "to imagine that some day your hands will be white like a lady's! I suppose you have nothing further to do to-day but to pick flowers?" she added, pausing for breath.

"I have never worried about my color, Dona Fernandez," replied Chiquita indignantly. "Indeed, I sometimes think it holds its own better than that of some persons I might mention."

"Holy Mother! how your tongue runs on! Am I not to be allowed to say anything? Oh, you do not deceive me! I saw you give him the rose as I came here. If he's sensible, he'll throw it away."

Chiquita laughed derisively. "Perhaps it is well for the world that all people are not so sensible as you are, Dona Fernandez," and her fan closed with a sudden snap. "So this is the advice you came to give me, Dona Fernandez? How very considerate of you!"

Her words recalled the Senora to the purpose of her coming. For some time she paced up and down before Chiquita without replying. Then stopping and facing her, and watching closely for the effect her words would have upon her, she said: "I came to tell you--that Don Felipe Ramirez has returned."

Chiquita started. "Don Felipe here?"

"Aye. He's stopping at my house, and I came to warn you that perhaps it would be well to be cautious and exercise a little more self-control than is your wont when in his and _Capitan_ Forest's presence."

The Senora was satisfied with her morning's work; her words had had their effect. Besides, had she not had her say--unburdened her soul of many things which she had long been dying to give utterance to? All things considered she had scored.

"_a Dios_, Senorita," she added sarcastically, her black eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as with mock courtesy she bowed and turned, leaving Chiquita silent and motionless, her eyes cast on the ground and lost in thought.

XIV

"Don Felipe here? The coward, the cur! How dare he return?" she cried with a sudden outburst, her words ringing with indignation and resentment. She impatiently tapped the palm of her hand with her fan as she began to realize what his return might mean to her.

She knew that Senora had come to warn her not on her own account, but solely on Don Felipe's. Knowing as she did the reckless character of the man, she thoroughly realized the danger, and knew that she must be on her guard, not only for her own sake, but for Captain Forest's as well.

Like the bird of ill omen that he was, his presence boded no good to her. Already she felt his baleful shadow fall across her path.

The unusual attention which Chiquita had begun to pay to her personal appearance did not escape the observant eye of Padre Antonio. Knowing the nature of woman as few men did, he was wise enough not to question her, experience having taught him that the majority of women can only keep a secret for a certain length of time. He smiled and admired, or twitted her with the simple remark: "For whom are we dressing this morning, Chiquita _mia_?" But she only laughed in reply, or shaking her finger at him with a mysterious air, would say: "What woman would not dress for Padre Antonio?" But Padre Antonio was not so innocent as he tried to appear. Instinct, reenforced by long experience, told him that these were the first real symptoms of love which his wild little Indian girl, as he chose to call her, had shown.

He had always suspected that she never really cared for Don Felipe, and had done his best to break off the engagement before the catastrophe had overtaken the latter; but this was different. That of which he was loath to think, yet which he knew must inevitably happen, had come to pa.s.s.

His knowledge of human nature told him that she had at last met the man worthy of her love, but, he asked himself, would Captain Forest, of a different race and reared under totally different conditions, reciprocate that love? He could not endure the thought that his little girl might be made unhappy should the Captain fail to respond to her love.

He, too, had seen Chiquita give him the rose from his study window which overlooked the garden. So, when the sermon upon which he was engaged was completed, he quietly descended to the garden with the intention of administering to her a gentle admonition as well as giving her a little wholesome advice. Chiquita, hearing the sound of his measured tread on the gravel as he approached along the pathway, reseated herself on the bench and began to fan herself unconcernedly.

What a picture she made against the pale plumy branches of the tamarisk, thought Padre Antonio.

"I thought I heard voices," he said, seating himself beside her. "Has any one been here?"

"Dona Fernandez has just gone," replied Chiquita absently. "She has been giving me some of her advice."

"Advice?" echoed Padre Antonio, realizing the moment of his arrival to be most opportune. "That's just what I have come to give you, my child--advice!"

"What! You, too, Padre?" she exclaimed petulantly, looking at him inquiringly. "_Dios!_ what have I done that everybody comes to give me advice when I have so many other things to think of?"

"Chiquita," slowly began Padre Antonio, laying his hand gently on her own, "I have always known you to be wiser than most women, the result no doubt, of your early life and training in the wilds where people must live by their wits for self-preservation if for nothing else." He paused that he might the better collect his thoughts. She guessed what was coming and began toying with her fan, an arch smile playing about her delicate, sensitive mouth as she regarded him out of the corners of her large dark eyes.

"Chiquita," he continued, "I do not like your extravagance. Have a care, child, lest you become addicted to vanity."

"Again, just what the Senora said! Am I so vain as all that, Padre _mio_, that you should be obliged to remind me of it?"

"Then why this continual display?" he asked pointedly. "You never used to show such consideration for your admirers." She felt that it would be not only foolish, but worse than useless to attempt to fence about the truth with him.

"Ah, Padre _mio_," she sighed softly, blushing and laying her hand lightly on his shoulder and looking up into his face with deep l.u.s.trous eyes that softened with her words, "you--you forget--that I have never been in love before."

"In love!" echoed Padre Antonio in turn. "Ah! I knew it was that," and into his eyes there came an expression of tenderness and a far-away look as though the word recalled memories of other days. Memories which music or the glories of the sunset, or the cooing of the wood-dove at eventide might awaken within the soul. The sunlight played along the path at their feet. The breeze wafted the fragrance of the roses about them and a linnet, perched on the swaying branch of a tree overhead, gave voice to his song, singing of the joy of life. Again he sighed, and Chiquita looking up quickly, saw in his eyes that which she had never suspected.

"Padre _mio_," she said at length, lowering her eyes and slowly opening and shutting her fan, "have--have you ever been in love?"

"My child!" he cried with a start, suddenly recollecting where he was.

"You forget what I am! What are you thinking of?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing!" she returned quietly. "Only it's so--so sweet to be in love, Padre _mio_. And yet so--"

"So what, my child?" he interrupted hurriedly, as if to get through with the subject as quickly as possible.

"So terrible," she answered.