A thousand times he resolved to return and kill her, and a thousand times he relented, for he loved her as madly as ever and could not carry out his resolve. A prey to alternate fits of remorse and hatred, and tortured constantly by the knowledge of an unrequited love, the soul of Don Felipe Ramirez suffered the torments of the damned. His unconquerable love for Chiquita devoured him, gnawed constantly at his heart, and he cursed her—cursed her as only one of his temperament who had suffered as he suffered, could curse.
What could he do? Anguish succeeded anguish until he was at length drawn back again as irresistibly as the magnet is drawn to the north, to the woman he both loved and hated. He would throw himself at her feet. He, the proud, arrogant Don Felipe of former years, and bowed in the dust, implore forgiveness. Nothing was too hard. Any sacrifice she might demand of him, he would make. Surely, when she saw his remorse, his contrite humbled spirit, understood his suffering and realized that he could not forget her, could not live without her, that he loved her still through all the years of suffering, that his life was irrevocably linked to hers, she would relent, forgive him—become his wife.
His wife! The thought electrified, elated his being to an extent that it was lifted for the moment from out the black depths of his despondency. If not, well then, there would be time for the fulfillment of that which must inevitably follow—either his death or hers.
XI
"Holy Mother! but I am glad to see you again, Don Felipe Ramirez! What blessed chance has brought you back to us again?" Don Felipe started like one in a dream, and turning in the direction whence came the sound of the voice, he beheld Señora Fernandez standing on the veranda regarding him intently.
"Doña Fernandez!" he exclaimed with genuine pleasure, advancing to meet her, and extending his hand which she eagerly seized and held between both her own.
"Muchacho—muchacho!" she cried, clapping her hands as she released her hold on Don Felipe's. "Carlos, the Caballero's horse!" she continued, addressing the vaquero that appeared in the doorway of the Inn at her summons and who advancing, took possession of Don Felipe's horse and led him away to the stables.
"Let me look at you, Don Felipe," she continued, regarding him closely. "Why, you have not changed a hair! It might have been but yesterday that you left us."
"And you, Doña Fernandez are still the charming, handsome mistress of the Posada de las Estrellas to whom all men are irresistibly drawn."
"Flatterer!" retorted Señora, laughing gayly and blushing like a girl of sixteen. How sweet it was to hear such words from a handsome Caballero like Don Felipe! It reminded her of the old days when all men thought her beautiful and went out of their way to tell her so.