An American Part 6

It took a good deal of courage and loyalty combined for the girl to make the remarks we have just recorded here with her small mouth yet tingling from the kisses, for Manuello had not been chary of their number while he had the opportunity to bestow them, of the man whom she almost worshiped as earthly women adore merely human men, but she had waded through the above sentences, bravely, and felt better after having pa.s.sed through what was an ordeal for her to undergo.

Manuello scarcely knew how to meet this plain exposition of the matter under consideration and quickly changed the subject of conversation, not wishing to go too far, all at once, with Tessa, as that might complicate his relations with Estrella, and, yet, feeling the need of some stanch friend, in case he should have need of one, for he realized, dimly, that he might easily be in danger, at any time, for various good reasons, for he had been implicated in many of the plots of the revolutionists as well as having secrets of his own to cover up; he was naturally cautious as far as his own safety was concerned and did not wish to involve himself any farther than seemed best for his own interests with Tessa, and, yet, he desired to have her a.s.sistance ready at hand in case he should have need of anything so feeble.

He had now fixed her previous regard for him upon a vital memory, so that she would not soon forget the few moments she had pa.s.sed encircled by his arms, and this was all he cared to do in that line, at present.... Later on, in case Estrella still remained obdurate ...

why ... that would be a far different matter; he had now arranged for himself a secret harbor in the simple heart of this uneducated girl, so that, if pursued too closely by cruel storms, out on the open sea, he could retire to it at will.

As for Tessa, after she had made her declaration of love for Estrella, she felt that she had performed her full duty in that matter, and went about her preparations for the affairs of that day, with an even lighter heart than before Manuello's short visit, for, after all, she had discovered that she was not at least repulsive to the man she had secretly loved for almost as long as she could remember anything, for they had grown up in San Domingo together and he had always been identified with her daily life; the beauty of her personal dream regarding the tall Cuban had been her motive in a.s.sisting in the liberation of the prisoners, mentioned in the beginning of this narrative, as she had small sympathy with Estrella's adoration of Victorio Colenzo, although she was willing to have her intimate girl-friend feel exactly as she had felt and pitied her with all her loving heart, now that she had lost, in such a terrible manner, the man she loved and who, as they both had believed, loved her.

CHAPTER VIII

When Manuello left the dwelling of the little woman of whose affection he was certain he hastened home to find out what att.i.tude the woman he loved would take toward the new conditions in Cuba, as well as to ascertain what preparations she was making for the burial of the man whose earthly life he had, himself, taken, although she was far from imagining anything of the kind concerning either her dead lover or her so-called half-brother.

He found Estrella much perturbed as was to have been expected under the circ.u.mstances for he knew that she had been deeply enamored of the handsome stranger whose dead body was now being prepared for interment by the village undertaker to whom Estrella had given the money presented to her by old Mage, so that the man's body was being taken care of through the charity of his wife which had been bestowed upon his sweetheart neither of whom had been known to him at all a few months before.

As the hour for the funeral exercises drew near, a handsome carriage drew up in front of the humble door where Estrella made her home; from within it emerged no less a person than old Mage herself who had been sent by Ruth Wakefield to escort the sorrowing girl to and from the rude graveyard where the body of her own husband would be placed, that day; she had told good Father Felix what to do as to the simple services but had decided to absent herself from them, not being sure as to how much endurance she would have and being determined not to add to the grief of the innocent girl who had been deceived by the man whose name she had a.s.sumed but never been known by in her own family, even, as, at his especial request, she had kept the marriage hidden from all of her acquaintances except the few members of her own little household who were devoted to her and her interests and went about among the villagers very little, as what business they had was transacted in Havana instead of San Domingo.

Estrella was pleased and flattered by this attention from the lady of the mansion on the hill and entered the carriage to find Father Felix already there, for the carriage had been sent to the refectory before it came to her own home; she remembered the message little Tessa had sent to her so she asked old Mage to go to her dwelling for her, which was done, and completed the sad little group that rode directly behind the rude wagon which took the place of a hea.r.s.e and which carried the body of Victorio Colenzo to its last earthly resting-place.

The grief of the young girl was very pitiful and, as they turned away from the narrow grave, old Mage felt moved to try to comfort her a little by distracting her attention from her sorrow; seeing Manuello lurking in the background as the funeral party were about to leave the cemetery, she said to Estrella:

"Will your brother ride home with us? I remember his face for he has brought fruit to our door and he told me, once, that you were his half-sister."

The poor girl stifled her sobs long enough to listen to the old woman's remark but made no other answer to it than to shake her head; little Tessa turned her face in the direction indicated by old Mage and saw Manuello with a look of diabolical triumph mingled with fear and hatred on his dark face so that, in spite of her love for him, his expression frightened her and made even her turn away from the sight of the great change in his countenance from what she had seen resting there only that morning.

Ruth Wakefield had spend the hour devoted to the funeral exercises of her own husband very quietly and in entire solitude; she was accustomed to the latter condition and there was no one among her acquaintances in whom she cared to confide except the good Priest who had done what he could to console and sustain her spirit through this trial that had been forced upon her by untoward circ.u.mstances and her own faith in humanity; she watched her own carriage descend the hill and pa.s.s into the little village ... she saw the small funeral procession as it wended its way along the palm-lined street ... she watched it enter the gate of the little cemetery and even saw poor Estrella as she alighted from the vehicle and leaned upon the arm of her small friend as she approached the open grave that was to contain the mortal remains of the man who had been, if only for a short s.p.a.ce of time, her own husband ... and yet she did not faint ... she did not cry out ... she had had her fight with her own nature and she had won out after a hard struggle; all that was left of the love she had entertained for the handsome Cuban who had entered into her life so disastrously, was an open wound which time alone could ever heal.

When old Mage returned to the mansion on the hill she sought out her young lady and would have, in her usual garrulous manner, reported everything that she had noticed during her absence had she received encouragement to do so; on the contrary, she found Ruth, apparently, deeply interested in a large volume which she had placed on a table before her chair; she rested her head on her hands, from time to time, and only looked up to welcome her old nurse, then resumed the perusal of the page she happened to have open at the time of her entrance into the library.

Ruth Wakefield had always found her chief delight among her many good books; she browsed among them for mental sustenance and for spiritual solace and found rich pasturage; it had been said of her, while she was yet a small child, that, in case it ever became necessary to perform a surgical operation upon any part of her delicate body, an anaesthetic would not be essential, as all that she would need would be to have someone read aloud to her from some fine piece of literature.

So, in the terrible affliction that had so recently befallen her, it was as natural for her to go to her books for comfort as it would have been for another woman to go to some understanding friend, for that was what Ruth Wakefield found among her books ... understanding and safe friends who would never betray her secrets or her confidence in them ... who would never deceive and torture her and who represented to her the finest and best impulses in human nature as well as those higher sentiments to which she always clung and which, now, in this crisis of her life, carried her safely over what might have crazed a mind less well poised than hers.

The morning after the funeral exercises of Victorio Colenzo, Father Felix ascended the hill upon which Ruth Wakefield's home was located and sought her out, for the good Priest was much perturbed because of her present condition and went to see her with the intention of advising her to leave Cuba, at least for a time, as the situation with regard to her own country was almost certain to become acute, after the disaster of a few nights previous, and it seemed to him to be imprudent for a young woman to remain alone with only retainers about her among the wild people among whom he labored; for Father Felix knew far more of the nature of these people than many others possibly could and he realized that the wealth surrounding the Wakefield residence was in itself a menace to the fair owner of it; although he, himself, intended to remain among his parishioners under all circ.u.mstances, it did not seem to be a wise procedure for an unprotected woman to do so.

He had studied the situation over from many view-points and had settled on the best course, according to his judgment and knowledge of the situation, for her to pursue, and he, now, laid this course before her with the benevolent intention of a.s.sisting her to follow it in every way within his limited power:

"My dear Miss Ruth," he began, hesitatingly, for he was not sure of just what effect either her husband's violent death or the recent explosion in the harbor would have on her sensitive nature, "I wish that you would consider your own situation very carefully; you are now alone here except for those who are under your employ, and the people of the surrounding country are in a high state of excitement. At almost any moment, now, your own native land, to which you are devoted, may declare itself to be in a state of war with Spain, following the blowing up of the battleship; in that case, your situation, here, would be even more precarious than it is at present and it is far from being secure, even now; what I had thought of proposing to you is that you, at once, gather together what you consider to be the most precious of your worldly possession, here, and place them in some storage building in Havana, leaving the house, here, with as few valuables as possible inside of it, then, with probably your old nurse as a companion and charge, return at once to your own country, anyway, until the war-cloud that is now hanging over Cuba has been lifted; it looks to me," he ended, "as if that would not be for some years yet ... of course America is a powerful country and if she takes this matter up in earnest, it may be that it will come to an end more quickly than I fear it may."

He waited, quietly, then, for Ruth to think over his remarks; she had regarded him earnestly while he had been speaking, and, now, sat with her hands folded in her lap for a few minutes before she spoke:

"Father Felix," she began, at length, "Father Felix, I appreciate the reasons that prompted you to come to me and advise me as you have just been doing; I understand that you consider me unfit to cope with the present situation under my circ.u.mstances and I wish to inform you that I do not intend to run away from my duty any more than you do. I take it for granted, Father, that you expect to remain with your people no matter what may come to them? I believe that the more need they may have of you, the more anxious you will be to serve them. Now I," she continued, earnestly and unwaveringly, "I have not done my full duty, up to now, among these people to whom you have devoted all of your energies; I feel that I owe my fellow-beings more than I have given to them in many ways, for I have been very much of a recluse, as you know, loving my books and enjoying my home and the natural beauties I have delighted in all around me; it may be, that, in the crisis that seems imminent, I may find some good work that will wholly absorb my energies ... it may be ..." she said, while a high resolve settled over her sensitive features, "it may be, good Father Felix, that I may be permitted to do almost as much good in our little world as you, yourself, are doing and have already done. Would you bar me from the proud privilege of sharing your labor and of receiving some measure of the rich reward which is awaiting you?"

Father Felix gazed upon her as if upon a being already translated beyond the common things of earth, and, realizing the firmness of her evident resolve, he extended his hands toward her in blessing. As she bowed her head to receive it there was a rapt look upon her face such as the holy angels who welcome the souls of the newly dead must have upon their features ... the inner consciousness of Ruth Wakefield shone through her earthly lineaments and transfigured them so that they were even more fair than they had been before.

"My Daughter," said the good Priest, "forgive me for proposing what I did; I did not fully understand you; from this time on, I hope that we may find much good work that we can do in common, for I would be proud and glad to be engaged with you upon our Father's business. Let us consult with each other in our plans for the betterment of the poor people among whom our lot in life has been cast. I was going to speak to you about the girl, Estrella," he went on, watching her face while he talked; "she is in need of different surroundings than she has at present, for she is not of the race of those with whom she has been staying; the young man who calls her his half-sister knows very well that she has none of his blood in her veins, and he is almost constantly tormenting her with offers of his heart and hand, when the poor girl is really a mourner for the man whom she believed, as you did, to be worthy of a good woman's love. The girl is strong and willing and capable beyond the common run of the people among whom she has spent her life thus far. I believe she would fully appreciate kindness and would repay it in every way in her power. What I have just thought of is, perhaps, impossible for you to do, at present, but it may be that, in the future, you may consider it. If you could bring yourself to have her in your home she would be safe from harm and might be a very great help to you if you carry on the work that is now in your mind to do. For," he rose to his feet and walked rapidly from one end of the room to the other, "if America declares war on Spain with a view to the independence of Cuba, there will be much heroic work for you and me to do, my dear Daughter ... there will be much work for us two to perform."

Ruth Wakefield also rose ... it seemed to her that the situation demanded that she meet it on her feet....

"Father Felix," she said calmly and softly, "Father Felix, have Estrella brought to me, today; let us begin our good work at once. There is nothing that my beloved country can demand of me that I would not be glad to give to its sacred cause. I believe that I can do more for my native land, here, in Cuba, at the present time, than if I should return to it, now. It may be that an American, with some degree of wealth and intelligence, can be of service, here, at this critical juncture in her country's history."

"Our native land could not have a better representative, my Daughter. As you know, I, also, am an American and I am proud, indeed, to claim you as a fellow-countryman. From now on we will more fully understand each other and I shall be glad to consult with you about many important matters. I will proceed at once to carry out your instructions with regard to the young girl of whom we have been speaking, for I feel that her case is one of peculiar importance, since I fully believe that she, also, is an American, although I have been unable, up to this time, to trace her parentage beyond the fact that a man, presumably her father, left her in the care of the woman who brought her up as one of her own children, in the little village below here. The poor girl has had a sorry life so far and really deserves better treatment than she has received, or so it seems to me from my finite stand-point. I do not presume to question the wisdom or justice of G.o.d, but, often, I am puzzled when I see the innocent suffer and the guilty escape punishment here in this world; I always trust in our heavenly Father implicitly, and, yet, at times, I am sorely put to it to furnish reasons for certain people having been placed in certain environments. I believe that all this will be explained to us in good time, but many things are hard to understand while we remain finite beings with only the intelligence that has been bestowed upon humanity to reason with. Conscience," he went on almost as if talking to himself, "conscience is our infallible guide and was given to us so that we would never be without direction in whatever circ.u.mstances we may be placed. Now, in this instance ... I honestly thought that I was doing right to come here this morning and advise you as I did, and, yet, G.o.d, in His great Wisdom, guided you, at once, into the only path that you were ever meant to walk in ... the path that will lead you on to the peace that pa.s.seth human understanding."

After a little rather desultory conversation, with which he hoped to lighten the outlook of the lonely woman, the good Priest wended his solitary way down the hill and back to the scene of most of his labors among the ignorant people whom he hoped to help toward a better enlightenment, and, as he walked slowly down the path leading to the village, he turned and looked back at the mansion on the hill, crossed himself, and murmured:

"Of such is the kingdom of heaven."

CHAPTER IX

When Estrella reached the mansion on the hill she found its mistress quietly awaiting her outside the dwelling; she welcomed the young girl with out-stretched hands, saying:

"Father Felix has done well, indeed, to send you to me so quickly, Estrella. I want you to feel perfectly at home, here. Old Mage will take you to your own room and tell you what little duties you may a.s.sume if you wish to do so. When you have arranged these little domestic matters, come to me in the library and we will talk over some plans I have in which I think you will be interested when you have somewhat recovered from your recent loss. I know, from my own experience, that there is but one way to carry sorrow through one's daily life and that is to be busy.

If one has enough physical energy and nervous strength, one can accomplish a great deal of good in the world in spite of personal sorrow. You are young and have not had an easy life so far ... it may be that I can a.s.sist you so that, from now on, you and I may be able to help each other in doing good work among those who are weaker than we are."

Old Mage was only too willing to take charge of the girl, for, while she did not really like the idea of having her in the family, yet, she was aware that Ruth needed companionship and she enjoyed having a goodly number of people around her as her life consisted, mainly, of what each day brought into it, for old Mage, while she was a good woman and a faithful friend, was not a thinker and made few plans for the future.

She led Estrella to the room that Ruth had arranged to have her occupy, and, having explained certain little matters to her concerning the daily round of life in the house, she began to question her as to what she had learned regarding the explosion in Havana Harbor and what she thought as to the probability of the United States declaring war on Spain on account of it.

The girl had little information to give to the old woman for she had been too much absorbed by her own recent grief to even think of any of the consequences that might follow the accident ... it seemed to her that if the whole United States navy were blown up, it would make small difference to her now that she had lost Victorio for he had represented to her everything that meant happiness for her in the future; she had yet to learn many things that would, eventually, bring to her the kind of happiness that is lasting and to be depended upon when all that is transitory and ephemeral has pa.s.sed beyond knowledge and memory.

At length, old Mage wearied of quizzing Estrella and left her to her own thoughts which were confused and uncertain; she did not understand why the lady of the mansion had condescended to ask her to come to her for Father Felix had left her in doubt as to any reason, only telling her that Miss Ruth desired her to come to her, at least for a time, to act as a sort of companion as she was alone a great deal; he did not explain to her that there might be work for her to do in the near future, leaving that part to Ruth, very wisely.

Father Felix led his little flock into fresh pastures when he felt that they were ready for such a change but he reflected deeply before doing this and hoped, in the case of the girl under consideration, that companionship with one as unselfish and intrinsically good and n.o.ble as Ruth Wakefield would do more for her character than any counsel he could give to her; the good Priest was well aware that the handsome, young, dashing Cuban had fascinated both the women and he felt sure that, had he lived long enough in the same world with them, he would have broken both their hearts, for it was his nature, evidently, to gather flowers wherever he found them and throw them away to wither and die; Father Felix was a normal human being as well as a spiritual leader and he recognized facts with regard to human nature as he found them, not being deceived by appearances as a less intellectual person would have been, or as a man possessed of weaker masculine traits than those that had been bestowed upon him.

There was one among his parishioners of whose case he was doubtful ...

he was very anxious concerning Manuello for he knew that the young man had some sort of guilty secret that he had confessed to no one and this was one reason influencing him in his endeavor to extricate the innocent Estrella from her immediate surroundings; he knew that, in the troubled condition of the country, Manuello would be almost certain, with his wild and untutored nature, to get into some sort of tangle with authorities and supposed that the trouble he was well aware of as being on the young fellow's conscience had something to do with existing Spanish laws; he, himself, in breaking down the doors of the prison in order to liberate this man among the rest of the prisoners, had been guilty of violating a strict mandate and knew that he was liable to arrest at any time, but, now that America might come into the struggle on her own account, instead of simply through sympathy with the wrongs of the people of Cuba, he realized that his own case had taken on a new color, for, as he had told Ruth Wakefield, Father Felix was a native American and loved his own country devotedly, although he had been acting as a missionary in Cuba for some years of his active life in the priesthood; he was dwelling on the state of mind of Manuello, sitting quietly in his own place in the refectory, the evening after the events related in the preceding chapter, when he heard a hasty knock at his door and immediately opened it to admit the subject of his thoughts.

The young man entered as if upon a desperate errand and sat down in the first chair he found without waiting for the invitation of the Priest, a proceeding that, alone, showed the condition of his mind:

"Good Father," he began without introduction, "where is Estrella? She has not been home for some hours and none of the family seem to know much about her; all they told me was that I was to come to you for information ... and here I am."

The Priest looked into his eager face and pitied while he condemned him, for he could see that he greatly mourned the absence of the girl whom he had decided in his own heart to have for his own.

"Manuello," said Father Felix, at length, having regarded him with a sympathetic smile, "you must accept the situation as calmly as you can.

I have to tell you that Estrella has found another home than yours and will, from this on, be under good care and will, I hope, find happiness later on in her career ... she is a good girl and deserves to be happy,"

he concluded, benevolently.

"Do you mean," demanded Manuello, "that I am not to see her any more?

That I am to be shut out from her life? I want to know," he rose to his feet, "I demand to know what you have done with her? Have you placed her in some convent?"

His voice had risen as he added question to question and he faced the Priest with a fierce expression on his dark and lowering features. His att.i.tude had no effect on Father Felix who was without bodily fear and knew that, in the present instance, at least, he stood upon safe ground, having, as he well knew, removed the girl from danger from the very being who, now, glared at him: