Part 19 (1/2)

My heart recognised in her _the heroine of extremes_. One of those natures gifted with all the tenderness that belongs to the angel idea-- woman; yet soaring above her s.e.x in the paralysing moments of peril and despair. Her feelings, in relation to her sister's cruelty to the gold-fish, proved the existence of the former principle; her actions, in attempting my own rescue when battling with the monster, were evidence of the latter. One of those natures that may err from the desperate intensity of one pa.s.sion, that knows no limit to its self-sacrifice short of destruction and death. One of those beings that may fall--but _only once_.

”What would I not give--what would I not do--to be the hero of such a heart?”

These were my reflections as I quitted the house.

I had noted every word, every look, every action, that could lend me a hope; and my memory conjured up, and my judgment canva.s.sed, each little circ.u.mstance in its turn.

How strange her conduct at bidding adieu! How unlike her sister! Less friendly and sincere; and yet from this very circ.u.mstance I drew my happiest omen.

Strange--is it not? My experience has taught me that love and hate for the _same_ object can exist in the _same_ heart, and at the _same_ time.

If this be a paradox, I am a child of error.

I believed it then; and her apparent coldness, which would have rendered many another hopeless, produced with me an opposite effect.

Then came the cloud--the thought of Don Santiago--and a painful feeling shot through my heart.

”Don Santiago, a naval officer, young, handsome. Bah! hers is not a heart to be won by a face.”

Such were my reflections and half-uttered expressions as I slowly led my soldiers through the tangled path.

Don Santiago's age and his appearance were the creations of a jealous fancy. I had bidden adieu to my new acquaintances knowing nothing of Don Santiago beyond the fact that he was an officer on board the Spanish s.h.i.+p of war, and a relation of Don Cosme.

”Oh, yes! Don Santiago is on board! Ha! there was an evident interest.

Her look as she said it; her manner--furies! But he is a relation, a cousin--_a cousin--I hate cousins_!”

I must have p.r.o.nounced the last words aloud, as Lincoln, who walked in my rear, stepped hastily up, and asked:

”What did yer say, Cap'n?”

”Oh! nothing, Sergeant,” stammered I, in some confusion.

Notwithstanding my a.s.surance, I overheard Lincoln whisper to his nearest comrade:

”What ther old Harry hes got into the cap?”

He referred to the fact that I had unconsciously hooked myself half a dozen times on the th.o.r.n.y claws of the pita-plant, and my overalls began to exhibit a most tattered condition.

Our route lay through a dense chaparral--now crossing a sandy spur, covered with mezquite and acacia; then sinking into the bed of some silent creek, shaded with old cork-trees, whose gnarled and venerable trunks were laced together by a thousand parasites. Two miles from the rancho we reached the banks of a considerable stream, which we conjectured was a branch of the Jamapa River.

On both sides a fringe of dark forest-trees flung out long branches extending half-way across the stream. The water flowed darkly underneath.

Huge lilies stood out from the banks--their broad, wax-like leaves trailing upon the gla.s.sy ripple.

Here and there were pools fringed with drooping willows and belts of green _tule_. Other aquatic plants rose from the water to the height of twenty feet; among which we distinguished the beautiful ”iris”, with its tall, spear-like stem, ending in a brown cylinder, like the pompon of a grenadier's cap.

As we approached the banks the pelican, scared from his lonely haunt, rose upon heavy wing, and with a shrill scream flapped away through the dark aisles of the forest. The cayman plunged sullenly into the sedgy water; and the ”Sajou” monkey, suspended by his prehensile tail from some overhanging bough, oscillated to and fro, and filled the air with his hideous, half-human cries.

Halting for a moment to refill the canteens, we crossed over and ascended the opposite bank. A hundred paces farther on the guide, who had gone ahead, cried out from an eminence, ”_Mira la caballada_!”