Part 48 (1/2)

As I had expected, Don Pedro and Dona Marguerite received us with the utmost cordiality--but alone. In the midst of our call Father Rocus entered in a casual manner, but, unlike the Vallois, he greeted us with a marked coolness. I was seized with the dreadful suspicion that he had all along been playing double with me. Yet there was the memory of that meeting at the _Parroquia_ to shame my doubt.

Before I could calm my thoughts, Pike and Malgares rose to leave. I followed them slowly to the door, then suddenly turned back and bent upon one knee to take the hand of Dona Marguerite.

”Senora,” I begged, ”for the love of G.o.d, give me a last word with her!

I am going away all those thousands of miles--I fear I shall never again see her--have pity upon me! One word, senora!”

”_Ave Maria purisima!_” she murmured, bowing her head and sighing.

I had touched her heart. Another plea might have persuaded her. But Don Pedro came hastening back, his face as cold and hard as a stone.

”Your friends will be delayed, Senor Robinson,” he said.

”Senor,” I replied, rising to face him, ”at the least have the justice to hear me out. You know that I love your niece with my whole heart and body and soul. You know that she loves me with a love that will last as long as life itself. Our love was born the first time we looked into each other's eyes; since then our love has never wavered. It drew me to her over deserts and mountains, through wildernesses before known only to the red savages; it forced me to face singly the soldiers and prisons and garrottes of your tyrannical rulers. I know now that I cannot hope for you to turn from your cruel purpose. Yet for the sake of the friends.h.i.+p you once professed to bear me and for the sake of her love, give me at least a moment's farewell--a word of parting!”

Despite the desperate earnestness of my plea, he stood throughout without a trace of relentment in his cold face. But Dona Marguerite was a woman, and I had spoken from the depths of my heart.

”_Santisima Virgen!_” she cried. ”It is only for a last moment's adieu!--Padre! padre, advise us!”

My heart gave a leap of wild hope as I saw Don Pedro look about at the padre with respectful attention.

”It is a hard question to decide, my children,” deliberated Father Rocus. ”It may well cause her more sorrow than relief. And yet--and yet--”

He paused and seemed to sink into prayerful meditation. Don Pedro and Dona Marguerite bowed their heads and murmured ”_Ave!_” I stood waiting, in a tremendous stress of doubt and joy, of hope and despair. At last the padre raised his head, and p.r.o.nounced his opinion: ”As her guardian, Don Pedro, yours is the decision. Yet as her confessor, I advise, for the good of her soul, that you do not deprive her of this last consolation. Even the meekest will rebel if pressed too hard, and she has a high spirit.”

”Since you advise it, padre,” acquiesced Don Pedro, though with evident reluctance. ”For the good of her soul, they may say adieu. But it must be here, in our presence.”

Dona Marguerite hastened to pull the bell-cord. Chita appeared.

”Prepare your mistress to say adieu to Senor Robinson.”

Chita darted away. We waited, I burning with impatience, the others murmuring prayers. At last my sweet lady appeared in the curtained doorway. Though she sought to smile, her face was wan and sad, and her beautiful eyes heavy as if she had wept much and slept little. Had not Dona Marguerite taken the precaution to lay a restraining hand on my wrist, I should have rushed forward and clasped the poor oppressed darling in my arms.

We were permitted to approach each other. I bent on one knee and pressed my lips to the little white hand she gave me. The others watched our every movement and listened for every word. Yet I could not restrain myself from speaking out the love with which my heart overflowed.

”Dearest one!” I murmured, ”it seems that we must now part--it may be forever! I do not see how I can bear to lose you, my darling. But, as the good padre says, we all have our crosses, and it may be that strength will be given to me to endure. Yet most of all my heart aches for your grief, Alisanda. G.o.d grant you surcease of sorrow!”

My voice failed me. I heard Dona Marguerite sob. But Alisanda neither wept nor sobbed. She gazed upward, with a spiritual glow in her dark eyes.

”G.o.d will do unto us according to His holy will!” she said.

”_Ave Maria de los Dolores!_” sobbed Dona Marguerite.

Alisanda looked down at me with the gaze which opened to me those fathomless wells of mystery.

”Juan,” she said, ”they tell me we can never wed. If such be the will of G.o.d, we must submit. But--” She held up the gold crucifix of the rosary which hung about her neck--”by _la vera cruz_ I vow to you, beloved, I will wed none other mortal than yourself. If I may not be your bride, I will become the bride of Christ!”

”_Caramba!_” swore Don Pedro. ”Recall that vow! I command you!”