Part 40 (2/2)
”Go on. Do not wait for me,” I replied.
Now was my time to read the note. I rolled myself under the grating, and, after several efforts, succeeded in gaining my feet. The window, which was not much larger than a pigeon-hole, widened inwards like the embrasure of a gun-battery. The lower slab was just the height of my chin; and upon this, after a good deal of dodging and lip-jugglery, I succeeded in spreading out the paper to its full extent.
”What on earth are you at, Captain?” inquired Cayley, who had watched my manoeuvres with some astonishment.
Raoul and the Irishman stopped their plate-licking and looked up.
”Hus.h.!.+ go on with your dinners--not a word!” I read as follows:
_To-night your cords shall be cut, and you must escape as you best can afterwards. Do not take the road back, as you will be certain to be pursued in that direction; moreover, you run the risk of meeting other parties of the guerilla. Make for the National Road at San Juan or Manga de Clavo. Your posts are already advanced beyond these points.
The Frenchman can easily guide you. Courage, Captain! Adieu_!
_P.S.--They waited for you. I had sent one to warn you; but he has either proved traitor or missed the road. Adieu! adieu_!
”Good heavens!” I involuntarily exclaimed; ”the man that Lincoln--.”
I caught the paper into my lips again, and chewed it into a pulp, to avoid the danger of its falling into the hands of the guerilla.
I remained turning over its contents in my mind. I was struck with the masterly style--the worldly cunning exhibited by the writer. There was something almost _unfeminine_ about it. I could not help being surprised that one so young, and hitherto so secluded from the world, should possess such a knowledge of men and things. I was already aware of the presence of a powerful intellect, but one, as I thought, altogether unacquainted with practical life and action. Then there was the peculiarity of her situation.
Is she a prisoner like myself? or is she disguised, and perilling her life to save mine? or can she be--Patience! To-night may unravel the mystery.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
THE COBRA-DI-CAPELLO.
Up to this moment my intention had been engrossed with the contents of the note, and I had no thought of looking outward. I raised myself on tiptoe, stretching my neck as far as I could into the embrasure.
A golden sunlight was pouring down upon broad, green leaves, where the palms grew wildly. Red vines hung in festoons, like curtains of scarlet satin. There were bands of purple and violet--the maroon-coloured morus, and the snowy flowers of the magnolia--a glittering opal.
Orange-trees, with white, wax-like flowers, were bending under their golden globes. The broad plumes of the corozo palm curved gracefully over, their points trailing downwards, and without motion.
A clump of these grew near, their naked stems laced by a parasite of the lliana species, which rose from the earth, and, traversing diagonally, was lost in the feathery frondage above. These formed a canopy, underneath which, from tree to tree, three hammocks were extended. One was empty; the other two were occupied. The elliptical outlines, traceable through the gauzy network of Indian gra.s.s, proved that the occupants were females.
Their faces were turned from me. They lay motionless: they were asleep.
As I stood gazing upon this picture, the occupant of the nearest hammock awoke, and turning, with a low murmur upon her lips, again fell asleep.
Her face was now towards me. My heart leaped, and my whole frame quivered with emotion. I recognised the features of Guadalupe Rosales.
One limb, cased in silk, had fallen over the selvage of her pendent couch, and hung negligently down. The small satin slipper had dropped off, and was lying on the ground. Her head rested upon a silken pillow, and a band of her long black hair, that had escaped from the comb, straggling over the cords of the hammock, trailed along the gra.s.s. Her bosom rose with a gentle heaving above the network as she breathed and slept.
My heart was full of mixed emotions--surprise, pleasure, love, pain.
Yes, pain; for she could thus sleep--sleep sweetly, tranquilly--while I, within a few paces of her couch, was bound and brutally treated!
”Yes, she can sleep!” I muttered to myself, as my chagrin predominated in the tumult of emotions. ”Ha! heavens!”
My attention was attracted from the sleeper to a fearful object. I had noticed a spiral-like appearance upon the lliana. It had caught my eye once or twice while looking at the sleeper; but I had not dwelt upon it, taking it for one vine twined round another--a peculiarity often met with in the forests of Mexico.
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