Part 59 (2/2)
”Speak softly!” said he to the man, ”my daughter is asleep.”
The domestic delivered his report in an undertone.
”I have been almost as far as the hacienda of San Carlos,” said he.
”The road to the house is clear; and I should have gone up to it, but for the strange sights which I saw there.”
”Strange sight! what sights, Castrillo?”
”Oh, master! I can hardly tell you what I saw--at least I cannot explain it. The windows were all lit up, but with such lights! They were blue and red, and of a purple colour, and they appeared to be changing every instant, and moving about in the most mysterious manner.
While I stood looking at them, and trying to think what it could mean, I saw a figure in white gliding past me in the darkness, like some one not of this world.”
”My worthy Castrillo, fear was troubling your senses, I am afraid you only fancied these things?”
”Oh, my master! what I saw was but too real. If you had seen these lights as I, you could not have doubted it. May it please G.o.d that I may have been deceived!”
The tone of conviction in which the servant delivered his report produced its effect on Don Mariano; and he could not help feeling the unpleasant presentiment that some grand misfortune had happened to his daughter, Marianita, or her husband.
The information brought by Castrillo was only the reawakening of a doubt that had been already oppressing him.
A prey to afflicting thoughts, he remained for a while in that state of silent uncertainty which follows the receipt of calamitous news. The servant having finished his report had joined his three companions, and Don Mariano was alone.
Just then the curtains of the _litera_ were drawn inside by a hand from within, and the voice of Gertrudis interrupted for the moment his gloomy reflections.
”My sleep has refreshed me,” said the young girl; ”do you intend soon to continue your journey, father? It is near daybreak, is it not?”
”It is not yet midnight, nina. It will be long before the day breaks.”
”Then why do you not go to sleep, dear father? We are in safety here, I think; and there is no reason why you should keep awake.”
”Dear Gertrudis, I do not desire to sleep until we are under the roof of Marianita, and I can see you both together.”
”Ah! Marianita is so very happy,” sighed the invalid. ”Her life has been like one of the flowery paths we have been following through the forest.”
”And so will yours be yet, Gertrudis,” rejoined Don Mariano, with an effort to console her. ”It will not be long before Don Rafael comes to see you.”
”Oh, yes! I know he will come, since he has sworn it upon his word of honour. He will come, but what then?” murmured Gertrudis, with a melancholy smile.
”He will arrive to tell you that he still loves you,” said Don Mariano, affecting a conviction which, in reality, he did not feel. ”It is only a misunderstanding,” he added.
”A misunderstanding that causes death, dear father,” rejoined Gertrudis, as she turned her head upon the pillow to conceal her tears.
Don Mariano was unable to reply, and an interval of silence succeeded.
Then Gertrudis, by one of those sudden reactions common to invalids, seemed all at once inspired with a fresh hope, and raising her head, she inquired--
”Do you think the messenger has had time to reach Don Rafael?”
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