Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 31

"But, it is so terrible to be a--prisoner. That means that one can never go out into the fields or climb the mountains, or ride, or hunt, or anything one likes. He has done dreadful wrongs, and I never used to like him as well as I ought, but now I'm sorry for him. I can't help it, Ephraim, even if it does displease you."

"H-m-m. He brought his own misfortunes upon himself. But first he had brought worse ones on his truest friends and innocent persons whom he never saw."

"Maybe he didn't know any better. Maybe----"

"Child, you are incorrigible. You'd pity--anybody. Yet, perhaps, you are right in a measure. Antonio strikes me as more fool that knave."

"Well, I'll be glad to say good-by to him, anyway."

It was a greatly altered Antonio they found. All his haughtiness was gone and his depression, his fear, was so abject that while Lady Jess pitied him even more than before, the reporter felt only contempt. It was he who cut short the manager's wordy explanations and commanded:

"Now, if you've got anything special to say to Miss Trent, out with it and have done. We must be off."

"Then leave her alone with me for five minutes, yes."

"No. What you can say to her must be said in my presence."

But Jessica pet.i.tioned for the favor, and Ninian stepped into an adjoining room, leaving the door ajar.

As soon as he was out of sight, Senor Bernal leaned forward, clasping his hands.

"It is the good turn I do. Well, then, it is the good turn you will answer, no."

"Of course. I'd do you any 'good turn' which was right for me."

"Then plead for me, my liberty. It is you, senorita, who have the so great, the strange power to move many hearts to your will. _Si._ You will plead, then, if I tell you--something--a little story--maybe?"

"I'm in no mood for stories, and you're talking in riddles as you've always been fond of doing. Say what you mean at once, Antonio, for I'm going home to-morrow. Home! going home!"

"Ah! me! And? But yes. I will. I will force myself. I will ask it.

That--that--t.i.tle? Know you of that?"

"How should I know?"

"Ephraim. Was not Ephraim at the safe one midnight? Is not Ephraim a little strange--here?" touching his own forehead.

Jessica turned away, indignant.

"No, but you are. The queerest, crookedest man I ever saw. If you've anything to tell me, just be quick, I am going. As for Ephraim, I wish, unhappy man, that you had half the goodness and honesty in your whole body that dear old fellow has in his littlest finger. He couldn't do a mean thing nor even think one, and if you sent for me to abuse him to me you might have spared yourself the trouble."

"Well, then. It is known, is it not? That when I shook the dust of Sobrante rancho from my feet I took away with me all the papers that appertained to the so great business of the place? Why not? Was I not to go back the master, and for the settlement of all affairs which I had with the Dona Gabriella?"

"You will please never call my mother by her first name again, Antonio Bernal. She is an American gentlewoman, and her t.i.tle is Mrs. Trent.

Understand? She is not afraid of you, nor am I, though she was patient and, for her children's sakes, would not quarrel nor resent your insolence. All that is changed. You can do us no further harm. My father's name is freed from all the shadow that your wickedness cast over it, and as for t.i.tles to property--poor! None of the Trents, big or little, care anything for property since we have regained honor!

Besides, Sobrante isn't the only home in the world. They are everywhere, waiting for those who will take them. If we lose Sobrante, as I suppose we may, I--just I, Jessica Trent, a child, will make a home for my mother and my brother--somewhere. I am strong. I can work. I am not at all afraid."

Despite his meanness and cupidity, Antonio was moved. The girl was radiant in her courage and enthusiasm, and her disdain of what he could make her suffer was infinite.

"Good, senorita. When you speak and look like that I can no longer keep silence, I. The papers! It is possible, no? That among them, in my so great haste at leaving Sobrante, that little, yes, it might--it might be among those other papers appertaining to the so great business.

_Si._ If I point the way, if I tell the secret retiring place of me, I, Antonio Bernal, you will plead and set me free? It is a contract, a bargain--yes?"

Jessica pondered. The temptation was strong to say "yes" without delay; but she had now learned to distrust the late manager of her mother's business, and answered, cautiously:

"I'll do what I can, Antonio, but if my mother forbids me to 'plead,'

I shall not disobey her. You did what you pleased, and my friends say you will have to suffer the consequences."

"Ah! but it is the so old head on the so small shoulders. That wisdom was not of your own, senorita. But, I forgive the suspicion. Yes, I am magnanimous. I am generous, I, Senor Bernal, heir--rightful heir--to Sobrante rancho and all of Paraiso d'Oro. See! Behold! Did the Lady Jessica never hear of El Desierto, no?"

"The Deserted Ranch? Where Pedro says the spirits of dead people walk?

Of course. Everybody has heard of that. Why?"

"Sometimes the 'spirits' keep hidden treasures safe. Yes. _Si._ Does the senorita know the trail thither, to that haunted place?"

"No. Nor wish to. Good-by, Antonio. I can wait for no more of your nonsense."

"The paper. The pencil, which the Lady Jess holds in her hand. One moment, that to me, if the senorita pleases."

"I brought these for my little shopping trip, which I'm to take with Mr. Sharp. I can't give them to you, but I'll lend, for a moment. Here they are. Be quick."

Antonio seized the pencil and rapidly sketched upon the pad a few dots and lines, suggesting a zigzag road and stations upon it. At the starting point he wrote "Marion," and at the end "Sobrante." Midway, and well to the north, where a curving course indicated an arroyo he marked "El Desierto."

Then he looked up, and Jessica reached forward to take back her possessions.

But with what he considered great chaft and cunning he thrust them behind him and smiled grimly:

"The promise, senorita. First the promise; 'I will plead for the liberty of Senor Antonio Bernal, so help me----'"

Unperceived by the artful manager, Ninian Sharp had entered the room from a rear door. He was tired of waiting for the interview to end and had overheard most of it from the outer room. He now quietly stretched out his own hand and possessed himself of the rude map, and then as quietly and instantly withdrew with it, calling as he did so:

"Come on, Lady Jess. Time's up. So is Antonio's little game; yet, thanks, senor, for playing it so openly, Good-day. _Adios._ Farewell. _Et cetera. Au revoir_ and all the rest. We'll show you that t.i.tle deed--if we find it!"

CHAPTER XX

A RAILWAY JOURNEY

The morning of departure had come and, trembling with both fear and eagerness, Jessica stood beside the reporter upon the station, waiting for the great train to move outward.

"Step aboard, Lady Jess. Homeward bound!"

"Oh! it looks so big and somehow dreadful. I can ride any kind of a horse, or an ostrich, and burros, of course, but----"

"But you don't know yet how to ride a railway carriage. Then let me tell you you'll find it so delightful you'll not want to get out when the journey's done."

"Don't you believe that, Mr. Sharp. The end of the journey, this part, at least, means, Marion, and that's but a bit of a way from my mother.