“I dare not ask him for so much money to-day,” said Dona Inez, in a whisper; “but promise me to keep the jewels until Friday, and then come here.”
The obsequious merchant gave the necessary pledge, and, followed by his attendant, he made an “humble obeisance,” and quitted the mansion of Don Manuel de Cordova.
Friday came. Again the visit was repeated: other brilliants had been added, in the interim, to the rich display that Juan Sanchez had previously exhibited; and the stranger’s flowers had been replaced with others of rarer kinds, and more exquisite fragrance. No wonder, therefore, that both collections were examined with an increased interest; and, in the wife and daughter of the admiral, that each found an ardent admirer. At the especial request of the former lady, the final selection of jewellery was postponed until the following Monday. Camilla was then to spend that her last day with the world; for the next day was to witness her private reception into the convent of Saint Agatha, to prepare herself for the formalities of an immediate profession.
Monday came, and the diamond-merchant presented himself punctually at Don Manuel’s door. He was alone, and his friend the flower-dealer no longer accompanied him. He knocked, but admission was refused; and the porter informed him, that his lady declined that day receiving any visitors. There was a strange confusion visible through the whole of the admiral’s establishment; and servants hurried to and fro, with an anxiety apparent in their looks, like that of men to whom some surprising occurrence had been recently made known. In a few hours, the cause of this commotion was whispered over the city, and created universal astonishment. The admiral’s fair daughter, Camilla, who in a few days was to have become the betrothed of Heaven, had, on the preceding night, eloped from her father’s mansion, and not a trace of the beautiful fugitive eould be discovered. The day passed, and no tidings were heard of the lost one: and the most extensive inquiries produced but little information. It was ascertained that a fishing-canoe had observed a felucca cross the bar, and, at an unusual time of tide, stand out to sea—and a stranger, whose brilliant appearance occasioned a sensation in the city, had suddenly departed from the hotel where he lodged, accompanied by his black domestic. Months succeeded days—Camilla was never heard of; and many and marvellous were the surmises as to the means and manner, by which the lovely daughter of Don Manuel de Cordova had been so mysteriously spirited away.
Three years slipped away. Don Manuel de Cordova was gathered to his fathers; and after the briefest period of mourning, which a decent respect to the memory of one who had bequeathed her his whole fortune, would allow, the young relict had bestowed her widowed hand on a wild and dissipated grandee. Of the lost Camilla no tidings were ever heard, and her strange disappearance remained as much a mystery as it was on the morning after it occurred.
Another event had caused immense joy along the coast. A celebrated rover, which for years had infested the neighbouring seas, had been driven on shore and destroyed by an English cruiser. Indeed it was full time that the Flambeau’s predatory career should be terminated. While she had continued under the command of a person who called himself Ramirez, her spoliations were restricted to what is considered allowable to vessels occupied in free trading, and no acts of violence had ever been permitted. But for some unknown cause that captain had mysteriously disappeared, and under his successor, the rover became a regular pirate; and, from the extent of her depredations, her destruction became indispensable. In effecting this, most of her lawless crew had fallen, and the remainder were driven into the woods, where, as it was hoped and expected, they would be speedily arrested and brought to that justice which so long they had managed to evade.
In one of those sweet glades which are found occasionally in the pathless forests of the south, aud show, amid the interminable extent of dank weeds and underwood by which they are environed, like an oasis in the desert, the summer residence of a wealthy planter had been erected. The front verandah of the building opened on a piece of open land, which stretched its green and velvet-looking surface gently downwards, until it rested on the bank of one of those deep inlets which debouch into the mighty rivers that intersect the southern portion of America; while the rear of this romantic retreat was overhung by woods composed of the noblest trees the earth produces, and in every variety of tint and foliage. The house itself was of slight construction, and designed only for temporary habitation; for, like other proprietors of opulence, the owner possessed a splendid mansion in a seaport some fifty leagues lower down the river; a place better suited, both from comfort and society, to form a permanent residence; and his visits to this distant estate were merely for the purpose of superintending a numerous gang of negroes engaged in felling hard woods, and in enjoying the amusements of hunting and shooting, which boundless forests and prairies abundantly afforded. All in and about this rustic abode evidenced both wealth and taste, and presented every elegance and luxury that was adapted to a tropic climate.
It was a warm and lovely night; the musquito curtains were closed, and in a very elegant saloon the owner of this sporting-lodge and his family might hwe been discovered.
A sweeter scene of domestic repose could never hwe been selected by a painter than the group within exhibited. A man, stout, handsome, and in the flower of life, had his dark eyes fixed, with pride mingled with affection, upon a female younger than himself by at least a dozen years. Nothing could be lovelier than the beautiful countenance he looked upon, as hanging over a sleeping child that rested in her lap, a mother’s looks of love were bent upon her slumbering treasure. Behind the lady’s chair, a tall finely-proportioned negro was standing with a silver salver, on which were fruits and wine; while a beautiful Chilleno girl waited at her mistress’ side, to receive her sleeping charge. Presently the infant was committed to its nurse’s arms. The negro placed his refreshments on the table, and, with the fair Chilleno, immediately quitted the apartment, leaving the planter and his lovely wife to the society of each other.
The lady rose and looked out from the lattice on the lawn, and as she crossed the chamber the grace of her figure was displayed. It boasted no longer the airy elegance of girlish symmetry: the flower was in its bloom—the form exhibited womanly maturity; and it was apparent that her’s was that endearing situation, which doubly claims a husband’s tenderest care.