“In that case,” said Harding, with another smile, “I doubt whether the count will care to take her at all. But enlighten me about your son’s title—it may be important to my principal.”
Her story was not an uncommon one, though it took a long time in telling; for she dwelt with painful emphasis upon some parts, and talked so incoherently upon others, that Harding was confirmed in his suspicion that her mind was, upon that subject at least, quite unsettled. She had been induced by the late Colonel Eltorena to go to his house, as his wife, under a promise that the actual ceremony should be performed by the first priest who came from Monclova or Saltillo. It was a remote district in which they lived, and they might have to wait for months before the expected visit would be made; and knowing this, and at the earnest solicitation of her lover, she consented to an arrangement, which was not so uncommon as it should have been. Wherever the common law prevails as it does in the United States, this would have been a legal marriage; and she solemnly protested that she so considered it upon the representation of the colonel himself. Two or three priests had passed that way within a few months; but upon various pretexts the ceremony was postponed.
At last, after about six months, the Colonel went to the city of Mexico on a visit, and returned with a wife! “The woman,” said the narrator, “who now calls herself La Señora Eltorena!” She, the deceived and betrayed, was generously offered an asylum in the rancho, where she had lived ever since; and six months after her ejectment from the hacienda by “the proud English woman,” her son was born. For eighteen years she had been suing for her rights; but superior influence with the corrupt judges of that unhappy land had foiled all her efforts; and in the meantime, she had lived in plain view of the hacienda, determined never to lose sight of her object, until she saw her son in possession. She had never been inside of its walls: “but,” said she, “I will be there—and soon! May God give me revenge upon the sorceress, who stole away my rights!”
“It is a very hard case,” said Harding, when she had finished, “but I fear like many other wrongs, it has no remedy.”
“There is one remedy,” said she, significantly, “when all others fail.” And drawing aside the end of her mantilla, she disclosed the hilt of a long, keen dagger. She drew it forth, ran her finger along its edge, smiled faintly, and replaced it in its sheath.
“Well, well,” said Harding, turning away, “I am warned at all events, and will take care that the count is enlightened, also. I must speed upon my mission. Good morning.”
She made no reply, and he passed out, taking his way toward the hacienda, which lay in view, about a mile distant. Turning to the right, he soon reached the bank of the river, and followed its rapid but even current, which ran sparkling beneath the court-yard wall. It was yet quite early; and as he reached the front of the mansion, his fear, that as yet no one would be astir, was confirmed. Returning again to the margin of the stream, he commenced pacing up and down the sward under a row of elms, with the intention of awaiting the rising of the family. He had made but two or three turns, however, and had halted, gazing about upon the still morning scene, when he thought he observed something like drapery pass across the arches in the wall, through which the river entered the inclosure. He advanced somewhat closer, and could distinctly see a pair of small feet tripping across the river on a footway made by placing large stones a step apart from bank to bank. He could not doubt that it was Margarita; but without going again to the front of the house, he knew of no means of ingress.
Casting his glance up and down the stream, to his delight, he discovered a small boat moored to the bank, and slowly swinging in the current. A moment sufficed to untie the rope which bound it, and in another, he was seated on its light planks, rapidly floating toward the arched passage. The waters, raised by the rains of the preceding day, left but scanty room beneath the masonry; but lying down in the bottom of the boat, and guiding her with his hands, he soon had the satisfaction to emerge within the inclosure. On rising again, he found himself between an extensive garden on one side and the offices of the mansion on the other. The former seemed to be a neglected wilderness of trees, and flowering plants and vines, but on reaching the footway over which the feet had passed, he discovered an opening to the labyrinth, in a broad, graveled walk, which wound away between rows of shrubbery, sparkling in the morning sunlight, and lost itself in the distance.
Turning the boat broadside against the stones, to prevent its floating away, he sprang to the bank and walked rapidly down the avenue. He discovered neither form nor sign of life for several minutes; but as he turned from the main walk into a smaller, which led away to the left, he saw directly before him, walking slowly toward the place where he stood, a young girl whose exquisite beauty well justified his eagerness. She was slightly above the medium height, slender, but well-proportioned, with a carriage erect and graceful. Her rich, brown hair was braided in masses over a forehead of the purest white, and drawn back loosely so as almost to hang upon her round, snowy neck. Her eyes were of the same color with her hair—a rich, dark brown; and their expression, though somewhat pensive, was yet sparkling and clear. A nose of the true Grecian model, a round, though not full chin, a small mouth with thin, curling lips, and cheeks now tinged by exercise in the cool morning air, completed a face which might well have attracted a man of less taste than the Count De Marsiac. To complete the picture, she had small, beautiful feet, such as a sultana might have envied; and her perfect, white hands, which now lay folded together in front, might have been a model for a sculptor. She wore a thin morning dress of the purest white, and as she walked slowly and unconsciously, it waved like gossamer about her person—revealing, perhaps, too much of its contour to please our northern prejudices, but still adding to its exquisite attraction.
Harding’s circumstances were so peculiar, that he was embarrassed for a moment, and could not determine how to meet her. She had not yet seen him, and acting upon the impulse of perplexity, he stepped within the cover of the shrubbery, and allowed her to pass without speaking. She went but a few steps, however, before he called—