The Mystery of The Barranca

by Herman Whitaker

  CHAPTER XXI

  Fifteen miles away along the rim Francesca and Sebastien had just reinedin. On a bare knoll close to the trail which led down to El Quiss threepeons were building a beacon of dry wood around a core of hay, and whileSebastien talked with them the girl looked out over the valley.

  Ever since, in a burst of anger at Seyd's message, she confirmed herconditional promise she had lived in a fever of feeling which precludedclear thought. In the same way that a sufferer from toothacheanticipates with almost revengeful pleasure the wrench of the extractionshe had looked forward to marriage as though it were to bring the end ofher pain. Not until the words that made her a wife fell like a chill onher fever did she perceive the illusion. Riding along the trail, theconsequences had presented themselves, and they grew with every mileuntil they filled her mind with horror. She had shrunk in fear andrevulsion when Sebastien offered the ordinary courtesies of the road.When he buttoned his own big rain capote around her she trembled underhis hands. Again, when her beast slipped and he threw his arm round herto lift her out of the saddle, she uttered a nervous cry, and, though hereleased her at once, she shuddered under her cloak. Yet, with all herpain, when she gazed out over the storm-beaten valley her old passionfor nature asserted itself through her agony.

  Along the Barranca the south wind herded great fleecy clouds. There theypiled themselves up in shadowy hills, there they rolled and tumbled likethistledown in a breeze, and again cascaded down to lower levels todissolve with muttering thunder in slaty sheets of rain. One minute thevapors filled the Barranca, flowing, a ghostly river, between thetowering walls. The next a sudden rent in the veil permitted a fleetingglimpse of the trail falling like a yellow snake with myriad writhingsinto the treetops thousands of feet below. Enormous in scale, the scenewas rendered more impressive by the roll of low thunders and flash ofpale lightnings amidst leaden writhing shapes. Watching it, Francescawas forgetful until, through a sudden rift, she caught the distant pinkflash of the El Quiss walls. Then she shivered, and she was stilltrembling when, turning from the peons, Sebastien spoke.

  "It is one of a chain of beacons they are building up and down thevalley to warn the people if the gringo dam should burst." Noticing hershiver, he added: "You are cold, _querida_? Let us ride on."

  His usual stern gravity had given place in the last few hours to a looksoft, pleasant, and very human. If she had looked into his eyes shemight have read there both sympathy and understanding. But softness inhim just then merely added to her fear. Following downhill, too, shewatched him closely with dark, frightened eyes. In the past his strongface and lithe figure had aroused in her a certain admiration, but nowthey inspired revulsion. A lost spirit descending into Hades could nothave battled more fiercely than did she descending the interminablestaircases, and the struggle left her so pale and exhausted thatSebastien remarked upon it when they rode out at last on the valleyfloor.

  "You are tired? We shall soon be there."

  That started her again upon a conflict which continued all the wayacross the pastures to the hacienda gates and reached its climax whenshe entered her room--not the one she had occupied before, but thatwhich had chambered before her the line of wives and mothers which beganwith the Aztec bride of Flores Rocha, the conquistador. In that longline the room may have harbored a bride fully as unhappy, but none moremutinous than its present occupant.

  "The senora is fatigued. She will have the meal served in her room."Sebastien's quiet order had dispersed the brown maids who flocked abouther like cooing pigeons with greetings and offers of service. Unawarethat he would observe it himself, she sprang out of her chair and ran afew steps toward the barred window when a tap sounded upon her door. Inher relief when it proved to be only Roberta, she pulled the child in toher bosom.

  "It is thee, _nina_! Oh! I had thought--what is this?"

  Her sudden flush betrayed her recognition of Seyd's writing on thepackage the girl held out. In the few seconds she stood hesitating herchanging expression revealed the struggle between her misery and hersense of wifely honor. The issue was not long in doubt, for, suddenlymurmuring "'Twill do no harm to read it," she ripped off the cover.

  While she read the blush faded. At the end her low distressed cry,"Francesca, see what thy hasty pride has done! A little patience wouldhave saved thy happiness and his!" told of the deep impression. Sinkinginto a chair, she was beginning to read it again when the door trembledunder a heavier rap.

  Thrusting the letter into her bosom, she leaped up, under the urge ofthe same wild instinct to escape, retreated toward the window, and sostood, with Roberta tightly held against her skirts. Seconds passedbefore she managed a tremulous "Enter!" and the face she turned toSebastien presented such a passion of fear, revulsion, and despair thathe stopped and stood gazing at her from the door. If surprised, hislook, however, was still kind. He even smiled. Not until, retreating ashe came forward, she stopped only with her back against the wall,Roberta still between them, did his smile give way to sudden darkoffense.

  "Are you ill?" He spoke sharply. "Or is this the usual way of a bride?If I were a tiger and you alone in the jungle 'twould be impossible toshow more fear."

  "I wish you were!" The confession burst out of her miserable fear."'Twere preferable a thousand times! Oh, why did I do it--commit thisgreat wrong? Love is, can be, the only cause for marriage, but in myhasty pride I sought only revenge--on him. Oh, 'twas a sin--a sinagainst you, Sebastien, who have always been so kind. Somewhere theremust have been a woman who would have borne you children out of herlove. And now--I have not only sealed my own misery, but also yours.For, though I do not, never _can_ love you, I am--your wife."

  To repeat, it came out of her in a wild burst, without consideration.But with the last word she looked her apprehension. He, however, took itquietly. Already the flash of offense had faded. Only the measured tonebetrayed restraint.

  "It is so--we are husband and wife. But do not let that fact disturbyou. Did you think me so much of a beast as to believe that I would takeyou stone-cold! Neither need you grieve over your sin in marryingwithout love, for I took you on those terms. I knew very well that youwere falling to me through anger. My only fear was that it might coolbefore you were placed forever beyond the gringo's reach. But now thatis accomplished, have no fear, we stand as we were. You are stillFrancesca, to be wooed with a larger license, but still to be wooed andwon to my love."

  "Oh, you are--as always--kind!" A little of the terror had died out ofher face, and if she had never received Seyd's letter, had lacked thereassurance that lay warm in her breast, his generosity might haveprevailed. Pitifully, she was going on, "I am sorry--" but heinterrupted.

  "Let us have none of that. Pity is the last thing I ask of you. Theissue between us lies clearly--can be settled only one way." His darkeyes lighting, he went on after a pause: "It needs not for me to remindyou of the birth of my love, for it reaches back beyond your memory.When you were still a lovely child I gleaned a fallen eyelash from yourdress and carried it for years--ay, until it was displaced by a stolencurl clipped while you slept by the maid I bribed. With you my lovegrew--grew with you from that lovely girl into a beautiful woman. Theplace which your foot had trod was, for me, the only holy ground. Youwere my church, the only one I ever believed in, the only one thatgained my prayers. For me you and you alone held the keys of heaven,and be sure that now that they have passed through your own act into myhands I shall never rest till they have opened for me the doors."

  "You will always have my liking and respect--"

  He cut her off again. "Idle words--they are not enough. And you owe meone thing--your willingness to help. I shall try hard, harder than Ihave ever done, to win you, but without that my efforts will be in vain.And remember--for your own sake--if you do not help me it may be thatyou yourself will reap the pain. The immortality of love is the wildtalk of poets. One cannot love a statue. The eye tires at last of themost beautiful marble, goes roving after warm flesh. So take care thatyou do not awak
e too late to find yourself unloved, pining for theaffection you once rejected."

  Through all he had maintained his dark calm, speaking quietly with atouch of sadness. Yet, the stronger for its suppression, vibrant feelingpulsed in the appeal. Had Francesca still been smarting under the lashof hurt pride he might have caught her on a second reaction. For she wasmoved. Pity and distress governed her answer.

  "Oh, I feel wretchedly ungrateful. But what can I do? I cannot--oh, giveme time?"

  "All that you need, _querida_. You are to have your own time and terms.Now listen! I am going away."

  He smiled a little grimly at her start of relief. "So _very_ glad? ThenI am sorry it will not be for longer. I shall be back in a few days.Word came to the administrador yesterday that the gringo dam is greatlyendangered by warm rains that have added the volcano's snows to theflood. A hundred feet deep, the waters are pouring down the Barranca deTigres, and if they once top it the dam will go." He uttered a bitteroath. "A curse on it! If it were not that the wave would sweep thevalley clean I would send one to hasten the end with a charge of powder.But that must wait for the dry season. I go now with every man and muleI can muster to raise and strengthen it. Signal beacons such as we sawat the trail head have been built all along the rim, and, if the damgoes, smoke by day or fire by night will flash timely warning. But ifyou are timid--San Nicolas stands on higher ground. If you would preferto return--"

  "No! no!" Her fervent gratitude prompted her to attempt some return. "Ishall stay here--to care for our people."

  He smiled at the "our." "Spoken like a Rocha. You never lacked courage,Francesca, but be careful. At the first signal leave everything, flywith the people up to the hills. If it should happen that the place isspared you can come back again. If not, follow the upper trail down toSan Nicolas."

  Her fright had now altogether faded. While he was giving a few lastinstructions a touch of anxiety diluted her brimming thankfulness. Butwhen he went out without having attempted anything more intimate thanhis usual bow, this vanished. And his restraint gained him more ground.Walking to the window which overlooked the patio, which was now throngedwith a motley mixture of peons, mule-drivers, and serving women, shewatched him mount and ride away at the head of the mule train. Lookingbackward from the great gates, he saw and answered the wave of her hand.But it was too far for him to catch either her wistful expression orpitiful murmur "If it had not been--"

  Inside her bodice Seyd's letter crackled under her hand. The blush withwhich she withdrew it indicated a doubt that his letter had a right tofurther tenancy in that warm nest. Roberta had followed Sebastien out towatch his departure. After placing the letter on the table she sat, oneoval cheek propped on her hand, her dark head drooping over it like atired flower. Once she made to pick it up, then snatched back her handas though from a flame.

  "No! no! It would be wrong--after his kindness." After a few minutes'further musing she added: "'Tis now of the past. By your hand was it putthere, Francesca. Now remains only to make a finish."

  Taking a match from a tray at her elbow, she lit the letter and threwit, all flaming, to the center of the tiled floor. While its pageswithered her face quivered in sympathy, and when suddenly a single linestood blackly out in the expiring glow--"I love you--shall always loveyou!"--her breath came in a sudden sob.

  Rising, she gathered the ashes into a small tray, carried them acrossthe room to the little altar that stood against the wall--an actionsignificant as it was conscious. Kneeling, she bowed her head in herhands. She remained there a full hour, and when she rose no one of theten generations of women whose soft knees had worn a depression in thetiles was ever animated by a more honest sense of duty. The face sheturned to little Roberta, who came bursting in a few minutes later, wasquiet and serene.

  "Oh, senorita!" In her excitement the child gave her the maiden title."Pancho, the administrador, will have you come at once. Smoke is risingnorthward along the rim. Also there comes a horseman at full speed."Lowering her voice, she added: "Pancho showed him to me through DonSebastien's far-seeing glasses. It is the senor Seyd."