The Bandolero Part 18

I saw that she was its sole occupant--unaccompanied either by sister, or _chaperone_. Even Tia Josefa was not with her!

It was true, then, what Dolores had said. Poor Dolores! I could not help feeling sympathy for her; the more so that I was now the friend of her Francisco.

The carriage was coming on at a slow pace. The _frisones_ scarce trotted. I had time to take some steps, which simple prudence suggested. Even love has its instincts of caution; especially when full of confidence.

Mine was to seek some solitary nook of the Alameda, where I might observe without being observed--except by the occupant of the _carretela_.

Fortune favoured me. A clump of Peruvian pepper-trees stood close by-- their pendant fronds drooping over the drive. Under their shadow was a recess--quiet, cornered, apparently unoccupied. It was the very spot I was in search of.

In ten seconds I had placed myself under the _pimentos_.

In ten more the carriage came abreast of me--still slowly moving on.

My eyes met those of Mercedes!

Half blinded by the blaze of her beauty, I stood gazing upon it. My glance must have betrayed my admiration; but not less the faltering fear that had hold of me. It was in my heart, and must have been symbolled in my countenance. It was the humility of a man who feels that he is not worthy of the woman he would worship; for I could have worshipped Mercedes!

In five minutes afterwards I was _cursing_ her! She pa.s.sed, with her eyes full upon me, but without showing any sign of recognition, either by speech or gesture!

It was only after they were averted that I thought of interpreting their glance; and then I was prevented by a surprise that stupified me--a rage that almost rendered me frantic.

Instead of the smile--the something more which I had been fondly expecting--the look vouchsafed to me was such as might have been given to a complete stranger!

And yet it was not like this. There was salutation in it, distant, disguised under some strange reserve--to me unreadable.

Was it caution? Was it coquetry?

It stung me to think it was the latter.

I gazed after the _carretela_ for an explanation. I was not likely to get it--now that the blind back of the vehicle was towards me, and its occupant no longer to be seen.

But I had it the instant after.

A little farther along the drive I saw a man pa.s.s out from among the pepper-trees; who, like myself, appeared to have been there "in waiting."

Unlike me, he was on horseback--bestriding a well caparisoned steed.

The man was no stranger to me. At a glance I saw who it was.

Yielding to a touch of the spur, his horse launched himself out into the road; and was pulled up close to the _carretela_--through the opened window of which a white arm was at the same time protruded.

I saw the flashing of a jewelled wrist, with a _billet.i.ta_ held at the tips of tapering fingers!

Stodare could not have taken that note more adroitly, or concealed it with quicker sleight, than did my friend Francisco Moreno--_never more to be friend of mine_!

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

HER NAME IS DOLORES.

There is one subject upon which there can be no question--nothing to admit of discussion. It is, that jealousy is the most painful thought that can torture the soul of man.

In painfulness it has its degrees--greater or less, according to its kind: for of this dread pa.s.sion, conceit, or whatever you may call it, there is more than one _species_.

There is the jealousy that springs after possession; and that which arises from antic.i.p.ation. Mine, of course, belonged to the latter.

I shall not stay to inquire which is the more disagreeable of the two-- as a general rule. I can only say, that, standing there under the Peruvian pepper-trees, I felt as if the shades of death and the furies of h.e.l.l were above and around me.

I was angry at the man who had made me feel so;--but mad--absolutely mad--with the woman!

What could she have meant in leading me such a measure? What profit did she expect by practising upon me such a d.a.m.nable delusion?

"_En la Alameda--a seis Horas_!"

I was there, true to the time,--and she, too. Six o'clock could be heard striking from a score of church towers--every stroke as if the hammer were driving a nail into my heart!

For some seconds I listened to the tolling--tolling--tolling. Were they funeral bells?

Oh! what a woman--in beauty an angel--in behaviour a devil!

I had no longer a doubt that such was a true description of Mercedes Villa-Senor.

To excuse my thus quickly coming to conclusions, you should know something of Mexican society--its highest and best.

But it is not for me to expose it. My _souvenirs_ are too sweet to permit of my turning traitor.

That was one of the most bitter--although it was also one of the most transient.

Perhaps I should not say transient; since, after a very short interval of relief, it came back bitter as before--with a bitterness long, long, to continue.

The illusion was due to a process of reasoning that pa.s.sed through my mind as I stood looking after the _carretela_, after the incident described.

I had conceived a half hope.

Mercedes might be only a messenger? The note might have been from Dolores--the guarded Dolores, who dared not go out alone?

The sisters might be _confidantes_--a thing not uncommon in Mexico, or even in England? Dolores, threatened with a cloister, might have no other means of corresponding with her "querido Francisco?"

This view of the case was more pleasing than probable.

It might have been both, but for my knowledge of "society" as it exists in the City of the Angels. From the insight I had obtained, I could too readily believe, that the handsome Captain Moreno was _playing false with a pair of sisters_!

Only for an instant was I permitted to indulge in the unworthy suspicion.

But the certainty that succeeded it, was equally painful to reflect upon: for I left the Alameda with the knowledge that Francisco Moreno had one love; and she the lady who had driven past in her _carretela_!

I obtained the information through a dialogue heard accidentally behind me.

Two men, whom I had not noticed before, had been sharing with me the shade of the pepper-tree. One was plainly a Poblano; the other, by his dress, might have pa.s.sed for a haciendado of the _tierra caliente_-- perhaps a "Yucateco" on his way to the capital. Small as was the note surrept.i.tiously delivered, and rapid its transition from hand to hand-- both these men had observed the little episode.