by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
SIGNIFICANT GLANCES.
Yes; the lady in the carriage was Luisa Valverde. Too surely she,thought Florence Kearney; for seeing her there was painful to him--ashock--as one who sees the woman he loves in the jaws of some greatdanger. And so he believed her to be, as a host of unpleasant memoriescame crowding into his mind like hideous spectres. No imaginationeither, but a danger real and present before his eyes at that moment, inthe person of a man, riding by the side of the carriage in which shesat--Carlos Santander. He it was, in a gold-laced uniform, with a smileof proud satisfaction on his face. What a contrast to the craven,crestfallen wretch who, under a coating of dull green ooze, crawled outof the ditch at Pontchartrain! And a still greater contrast in thecircumstances of the two men--fortunes, positions, apparel, everythingreversed.
The Hussar colonel appeared not to be one of the regular escortsattending upon the Dictator, but detached, and free to choose his placein the procession. Well had he chosen it, any one would say; for therewas a second lady in the carriage, young and beautiful, too; as may beguessed--the Condesa Almonte. But he seemed to have no eyes for her,nor words; his looks and speech all bestowed upon Luisa Valverde. Forhe was smilingly conversing with her, and she appeared to listenattentively, returning his smiles!
A spectacle to Kearney not only saddening, but maddening. Through hissoul, dark as winter now, swept dire bitter misgivings.
"Are they married? No. 'Tis not the behaviour of man and wife. Soonwill be--engaged, no doubt. Yes; he has won her heart, after all;likely had it then, when I believed it mine. Such deception? O God!"
These unspoken questions and conjectures passed through his mind rapidlyas thought itself.
They were interrupted by his seeing the ladies--the carriage being nownearly abreast--turn their faces towards him in an odd interrogativeway. The movement, abrupt and sudden, seemed prompted; and so had itbeen by him on horseback. Florence Kearney saw him nod in thatdirection, his lips moving, but the distance was too great to hear whathe said.
"_Mira! Los Tejanos_!" were Santander's words, indicating the group ofwhich they formed part. "One of them is, if I mistake not, an oldacquaintance of yours, Don Luisa? And how strange!" he added, feigningsurprise. "Chained to a criminal--no, let me not call him that--anindividual in whom the Condesa Almonte takes an interest, if rumour's tobe believed. Is it so, Condesa?"
Neither of them made response, for neither was now listening to him.Each had her eyes upon that which engrossed all her attention, onefixedly gazing at Florence Kearney, the other at Ruperto Rivas. For, bythe grace, or rather negligence, of their guards, the latter was now upon the pavement.
What an interchange of glances between the pairs thus brought face toface! What a variety of expression upon their features! For varied andstrong were their emotions at this moment--surprise, sadness, sympathy,indignation, and, amidst all, conspicuous above all, looks of unchanged,ever-confiding love!
He who had brought about this odd interview--for it had beenpre-arranged--was riding on the left and near side of the carriage, thesewer being on the right and off; which, of course, placed him behindthe backs of the ladies as they now were, and hindered his observingtheir faces. Could he have seen them just then, he might have doubtedthe success of his scheme, and certainly could not have accounted it atriumph. For the eyes, late turned smilingly upon himself, were nowregarding Florence Kearney with earnest, sympathetic gaze.
And the man, to whom this was given, was trying his best to interpretit. He saw that she turned pale as her eyes first fell upon him. Thatmight be but surprise seeing him there, with the consciousness of herown guilt. Or was it pity? If so, he would have spurned it. All thetortures the Acordada could inflict upon him, all the toil anddegradation would be easier to bear than that. But no. It could not bepity alone. The sudden start and paling cheek; the look of interest inthose eyes, beautiful as ever, and so well remembered; a flash in themthat recalled the old time when he believed her heart his; all spoke ofsomething more than mere sympathy with his misfortune. Before thecarriage, moving slowly on, had carried her out of his sight, thejealous fancies so late harrowing his soul, seemed to be passing away,as though an angel was whispering in his ear, "She loves you--stillloves you!"
Needless to say, he was too much occupied in reading the expression onLuisa Valverde's face to give even a look to the other beautiful onebeside it. And alike was he forgetful of the man who stood besidehimself. Yet, between these two neglected individuals, glances werebeing exchanged also in earnest, and watchful glances, which told oftheir being as much interested in one another as he in Luisa Valverde,or she in him. Better comprehending one another, too, as aphysiognomist could have told, observing the play of their features.The first expression on those of the Condesa was surprise, quickchanging to indignation, this as suddenly disappearing or becomingsubdued, restrained by a thought, or possibly a sign, given by her"dear, noble Ruperto." As evinced by the fond, yet proud, sparkle ofher eyes, he was no less dear now, no less noble in that degrading garb,than when she knew him in a gold-laced uniform, splendid as that worn bySantander, and he, in her eyes, ten times more worthy of wearing it. Ifhe had turned bandit, she did not believe it; though, believing it, shewould have loved him all the same. Nor in this would she have so muchdiffered from the rest of her sex. Blameable as it may be, love--eventhat of a lady--has but little to do with the moralities; and of aMexican lady perhaps less than any other. Certain, that Ruperto Rivas,robber or no, in that crossing of glances with the Condesa Almonteshowed no sign of jealousy; instead, full confidence of being beloved byher.
Though the account of this little episode seems long, the actualoccurrence--gestures, thoughts, looks, changes of facial expression--wasall comprised within a few seconds of time, scarce so much as a minute.
Then the carriage containing the two ladies passed on out of sight,other carriages following, with other ladies in them; more cavalry--Lancers, Hussars, and heavy Dragoons--more music, mingling with theshouts and cheers of the fickle populace, as they swarmed along thefoot-walk, every now and then vociferating--
"_Viva, Santa Anna el Illustrissimo! Viva, el Salvador de la Patria_!"
