Part 73 (1/2)
Maurice may have spoken the truth; but we could better believe him, had he seen Louise Poindexter before becoming acquainted with Isidora.
The episode of the burnt prairie was several weeks subsequent to the adventure with the intoxicated Indians.
Certainly something appears to have occurred between him and the Mexican maiden, that leads her to believe she has a hope--if not a claim--upon his affections.
It has come to that crisis, that she can no longer rest satisfied. Her impulsive spirit cannot brook ambiguity. She knows that she loves _him_. She has determined to make frank confession of it; and to ask with like frankness whether her pa.s.sion be reciprocated. Hence her having made an appointment that could not be kept.
For that day Don Miguel Diaz had interfered between her and her purpose.
So thought she, as she galloped out of the glade, and hastened back to the hacienda of her uncle.
Astride her grey steed she goes at a gallop.
Her head is bare; her coiffure disarranged; her rich black tresses streaming back beyond her shoulders, no longer covered by scarf or serape. The last she has left behind her, and along with it her _vicuna_ hat.
Her eyes are flas.h.i.+ng with excitement; her cheeks flushed to the colour of carmine.
The cause is known.
And also why she is riding in such hot haste. She has herself declared it.
On nearing the house, she is seen to tighten her rein. The horse is pulled in to a slower pace--a trot; slower still--a walk; and, soon after, he is halted in the middle of the road.
His rider has changed her intention; or stops to reflect whether she should.
She sits reflecting.
”On second thoughts--perhaps--better not have him taken? It would create a terrible scandal, everywhere. So far, no one knows of --.
Besides, what can I say myself--the only witness? Ah! were I to tell these gallant Texans the story, my own testimony would be enough to have him punished with a harsh hand. No! let him live. _Ladron_ as he is, I do not fear him. After what's happened he will not care to come near me. _Santa Virgen_! to think that I could have felt a fancy for this man--short-lived as it was!
”I must send some one back to release him. One who can keep my secret-- who? Benito, the mayor-domo--faithful and brave. _Gracias a Dios_!
Yonder's my man--as usual busied in counting his cattle. Benito!
Benito!”
”At your orders, s'norita?”
”Good Benito, I want you to do me a kindness. You consent?”
”At your orders, s'norita?” repeats the mayor-domo, bowing low.
”Not _orders_, good Benito. I wish you to do me a _favour_.”
”Command me, s'norita!”
”You know the spot of open ground at the top of the hill--where the three roads meet?”
”As well as the corral of your uncle's hacienda.”
”Good! Go there. You will find a man lying upon the ground, his arms entangled in a lazo. Release, and let him go free. If he be hurt--by a harsh fall he has had--do what you can to restore him; but don't tell him who sent you. You may know the man--I think you do. No matter for that. Ask him no questions, nor answer his, if he should put any. Once you have seen him on his legs, let him make use of them after his own fas.h.i.+on. You understand?”