Part 45 (2/2)

”_Ay senor_! Even the bride has been s.n.a.t.c.hed off, from before the altar--from the arms of the bridegroom fondly clasping, and before he has had time to caress her! _Ay de mi, cavallero_! Truly can I say that: it has been my own story.”

”Yours?”

”Yes--mine. You ask _me_ for souvenirs. There is one that will cling to me for life!” The Mexican pointed to his mutilated limb.

”_Carrambo_!” continued he, ”that is nothing. There is another wound here--here in my heart. It was received at the same time; and will last equally as long--only a thousand times more painful.”

These words were accompanied by a gesture. The speaker placed his hand over his heart, and held it there to the end of his speech--as if to still the sad sigh, that I could see swelling within his bosom. His countenance, habitually cheerful--almost comic in its expression--had a.s.sumed an air of concentrated anguish. It was easy to divine that he had been the victim of some cruel outrage. My curiosity had become fully aroused; and I felt an eager desire to hear a tale, which, though beyond doubt painful, could not be otherwise than one of romantic interest.

”Your lameness, then, had something to do with the story of your blighted love? You say that both misfortunes happened to you at the same time!” My interrogatives were intended to arouse him from the reverie into which he had fallen. I was successful; and the recital was continued.

”True, _senor_--both came together; but you shall hear all. It is not often I speak of the affair, though it is seldom out of my thoughts, I have tried to forget it. _Carrambo_! how could I, with a thing like that constantly recalling it to my memory?” The speaker again pointed to his deformed foot with a smile of bitter significance. ”_Por Dios, cavallero_! I think of it often enough; but just now more than common.

Their presence--” he nodded towards the lovers, whose forms were just visible in the grey twilight, ”the happiness I see reminds me of my own misery. More especially does _she_ recall the misfortune to my memory-- this wild huntress who has had misfortunes of her own. But beyond that, _senor_, though you may think it strange, your _conpaisana_ is wonderfully like what she was.”

”Like whom?”

”Ah! _senor_, I have not told you? She that I loved with all the love in my heart--the beautiful Gabriella Gonzales.”

Men of the Spanish race--however humble their social rank--are gifted with a certain eloquence; and in this case pa.s.sion was lending poetry to the speech. No wonder I became deeply interested in the tale, and longed to hear more of Gabriella Gonzales.

”_En verdad_,” continued the Mexican, after a pause, ”there are many things in the character of your countrywoman to remind me of my lost love--even in her looks. Gabriella, like her, was beautiful. Perhaps your comrade yonder might not think her so beautiful as the huntress; but that is natural. In my mind Gabriella was everything. She had Indian blood in her veins: we all have in these parts, though we boast of our pure Spanish descent. No matter; Gabriella was white enough--to my eyes white as the lily that sparkles upon the surface of the lagoon.

Like yonder maiden, she inherited from her ancestors a free daring spirit. She feared neither our Indian enemies, nor danger of any kind--_Por Dios_! Not she.”

”Of course she loved you?”

”Ah! that truly did she--else why should she have consented to marry me?

What was I? A poor _cibolero_--at times a hunter and trapper of beavers, just as I am now? I was possessed of nothing but my horse and traps; whiles he--_Carrambo! senor_, proud _ricos_ pretended to her hand!”

It is possible that my countenance may have expressed incredulity. It was difficult to conceive how the diminutive Mexican--as he appeared just then in my eyes--could have won the love of such a grand belle as he was describing Gabriella to be. Still was he not altogether unhandsome; and in earlier life--before his great misfortune had befallen him--he might have been gifted with some personal graces. High qualities, I had heard of his possessing--among others courage beyond question or suspicion; and in those frontier regions--accursed by the continual encroachment of Indian warfare, and where human life is every day in danger--that is a quality of the first cla.s.s--esteemed by all, but by none more than those who stand most in need of protection--the women. Often there as elsewhere--more often than elsewhere--does courage take precedence of mere personal appearance, and boldness wins the smile of beauty. It was possible that the possession of this quality on the part of Pedro Archilete had influenced the heart of the fair Gabriella. This might explain her preference.

The Mexican must have partially divined my thoughts, as was proved by the speech that followed. ”Yes, _amigo_! more than one rich _haciendado_ would have been only too happy to have married Gabriella; and yet she consented to become my wife, though I was just as I am now.

May be a little better looking than at this time; though I can't say that I ever pa.s.sed for an Apollo. No--no--_senor_. It was not my good looks that won the heart of the girl.”

”Your good qualities?”

”Not much to boast of, _cavallero_. True, in my youth, I had the name of being the best horseman in our village--the best _rastreador_--the most skilful trapper. I could 'tail the bull,' 'run the c.o.c.k,' and pick up a girl's ribbon at full gallop--perhaps a little more adroitly than my compet.i.tors; but I think it was something else that first gained me the young girl's esteem. I had the good fortune once to save her life-- when, by her own imprudence, she had gone out too far from the village, and was attacked by a grizzly bear. _Ay de mi_! It mattered not. Poor nina! She might as well have perished then, by the monster's claws.

She met her death from worse monsters--a death far more horrible; but you shall hear.”

”Go on! From what you have disclosed, I am painfully interested in your tale.”

CHAPTER NINETY THREE.

A b.l.o.o.d.y BRIDAL.

”_Puez senor_! what I am about to tell you happened full ten years ago, though it's as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. You may have heard of the village of Valverde? It is about fifty leagues south of Santa Fe, on the Rio del Norte--that portion of the valley we call the _Rio Abajo_. It was at one time a settlement of some importance--rich and prospering as any in New Mexico--but, in consequence of the incursions of the Apaches, it fell into decay. Is now a complete ruin without a single inhabitant.”

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