Chapter III.
COLONEL WARLOW'S STORY--CONTINUED.
The morning of that Sabbath broke calm and serene. A warm haze broodedover the valley or danced in lines of quivering heat across the greenprairies of the upland, and the dew had long since ceased to glitter onthe rank blue-stem grass when our friends awoke.
The breakfast which followed almost caused them to forget the fact thatthey were out upon the borders of the "Great American Desert," and theymight have fancied that they were once more but picnicking under theshade of their native groves; for it was a meal that had exhausted theculinary art of both matrons. Wild mushrooms, stewed in sweet cream,deliciously fragrant and hinting of the wild-wood near by, delicatebrook-trout from the stream, mingled their aroma with the elder-bloomfritters which Maud was preparing; and on the snowy damask, spread onthe grass, Mrs. Moreland's golden honey-comb vied with the Warlow jellyand crimson marmalade, while the coffee would make one dream of Arabythe blest.
An hour after the morning meal we find our friends seated under theshade of the great elm among the ruins, the sunlight struggling faintlythrough the verdant canopy and weaving a golden veil over the ashenbuffalo-grass, starred by daisies and violets. The spring welled outwith a sleepy murmur, and overhead an oriole, near its swinging nest,caroled forth a stream of bubbling melody.
"A month passed," continued the colonel, "and we still lingered in thestately mansion, daily and hourly meeting the young heiress, who wasalways accompanied by her matronly kinswoman. But one morning, as Brucewas loitering in the court, he glanced up and saw the smiling face ofIvarene, framed by the passion-flowers, fuchsias, and jasmine whichfestooned the walls within the court and wreathed the lattice above herbalcony.
"With an impulse which he could not resist our young hero swung himselfup by the vines, and stood, with his sunny hair and smiling blue eyes,within the balcony. He wore the uniform of a captain of cavalry--softgray, with cords and lace of frosted gilt over the breast--top-boots,embossed with gold, and a hat half concealed by the drooping plumes.
"She threw back the gilded jalousies which guarded her window, and,smiling graciously, held out her hand, which he clasped with all therapture of an infatuated lover.
"She was robed in soft, rose-colored India muslin, embroidered in whitelilies, and over her breast and arms fell a cascade of lace, caughtlightly over her raven tresses, in that graceful manner which the ladiesof Spanish America wear the mantilla; gleaming through its filmy foldscould be seen the rubies which burned in her hair.
"Within that flower-entwined balcony was re-enacted that tenderscene--old as the dawn of creation, still ever new. How he told thetale, or how she answered, I can not say, but may readily surmise fromthe brilliant wedding which followed in the old cathedral a few monthslater.
"Bruce had become very popular with the young officers of our army, andI have often seen him riding about the city with McClellan, and--"
"What! not our 'Little Mac?'" cried Squire Moreland, springing to hisfeet, transformed into an impetuous soldier by the magic of a name, andwhile the others regarded him with amazement, as he paced back and forthwith clenched hands, he continued in a tone of repressed vehemence: "Ifthere is one name that would cause me to leap from the grave, it is thatof 'Little Mac,' the Giant of Antietam; and, as there is a God above, Ibelieve it was McClellan who led us to victory at Gettysburg. Oh, can Iever forget that terrible day when the host of Lee beat and broke inthunder over the hills like the ocean on a rocky shore, drenching ourranks in a surf of blood--when reckless Longstreet charged like awhirlwind through smoke and flame, while our columns staggered under theshock? The scream of countless shells and the stunning belch and roar ofa thousand cannon mingled with the trample of the Southern cavalry as ithurled its squadrons upon us like the throes of an earthquake, theirstorm of rebel yells rising above the notes of Dixie and all the din ofconflict with the roar of a hurricane. Oh, Heaven! how then we longedfor one hour of 'Little Mac!' That day our Nation's fate trembled inthe balance; a few more shocks and all would be lost; then this fiercearmy--another such the world has never seen--would sweep over the Northlike an avalanche! Every moment hurried myriads into eternity, wringingloving hearts and breaking many a home from Maine to Texas. But when theword, like an electric shock, flashed along our hopeless ranks, '_LittleMac has come_,' can I ever, ever, forget the shout of delight that burstfrom the parched lips of threescore thousand men? the rapid rush ofmarching ranks as they hurried to death, shouting, 'Little Mac, LittleMac!' when squadrons flashed by to the cannon's mouth, shaking the earthwith their thunders of that mighty name? Oh! the wild delight and gloryof that hour, when the fierce but baffled hosts of Lee broke and fled!But at the battle's close they claimed that it was only a ruse, and thatMcClellan was not there. Yet I shall always believe he did lead us thatday; but, unwilling to impair the laurels of Meade, he has kept silentall these years--only such a man is capable of that grand heroism. Ihave interrupted you, Colonel. Please excuse me, and proceed with yournarrative."
After a moment's silence, the colonel said:
"Bruce Walraven was descended from a noble English family that hadsettled in New York in the earliest colonial days, but their fortuneshad waned until himself and his sword were all that remained of thatonce powerful house. He was an orphan, who had graduated with honor atWest Point Military Academy, and was utterly alone in the world, withno one to love but Ivarene and myself, yet no brothers could have beenmore deeply attached than we soon became to each other.
"I have never yet described him to you, from the fact that--that--Well,I feel a strange reluctance to say that Clifford, here, is the veryimage of that friend who died four years before my boy was born; but asI look at my son now, I almost fancy that Bruce is with me again, andthat all my manhood's troubled years are only a fitful dream.
"Since his boyhood I have noticed Clifford's resemblance to Bruce, andas my boy grew older he seemed to almost take the place of my lostfriend, which has resulted, you perceive, in a sort of companionshipbetween us which leads strangers to take us for brothers, instead offather and son. But to my story again.
"The wedding-day dawned fair and serene, and at noon a company of youngcadets from Chapultepec, all of whom were sons of the highest Mexicanaristocracy, filed out on the avenue of cypresses that led to Monteluma,their snow-white horses trapped with gold and purple, and their steelhelmets a mass of tossing plumes; their high top-boots of glossy blackwere embossed with gilt, and on the breasts of their white tunics theMexican eagle flashed in silver, as two and two they galloped out to thegreat hacienda.
"An hour later Ivarene entered her low, open carriage, which was richlygilded and drawn by four white horses that were almost hidden bygarlands of bright-hued flowers. She wore a robe of white satin, whilea tiara and necklace of pearls glimmered through the filmy veil thattrailed like a mist about her form. Behind her, there rode in separatecarriages, each drawn by two white horses, her seven bridesmaids, whowere likewise dressed in white. Senora Labella sat by the side ofIvarene, and a grand dame also occupied each carriage with a bridesmaid;their sumptuous toilets of satin, velvet, and brocade were of purple andcream-rose, emerald and lilac.
"As this brilliant company filed out on the avenue, four cadets ridingin double file between each carriage, flowers were strewn in the road bylong lines of peon children dressed in white. At the city gates a doubleguard of Mexican and American soldiers, riding white horses and gorgeouswith military trappings, escorted them through the city to the grandplaza, where the old cathedral was thronged with the proud and great oftwo nations, while the ministers and foreign ambassadors of nearly allof Europe and the Americas, waited in pomp of state with their wives anddaughters, all attired in the extreme of luxury. I shall not try todepict the splendor of the final scene when the cardinal in his robes ofscarlet pronounced the solemn service, and pale, handsome Bruce, wearinghis uniform of a colonel, received his bride from the hand of DonHernando Rozarro, the Spanish ambassador.
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p; "Haughty Santa Anna was there, and General Taylor looked happily on,while all around were grouped our gallant officers, graceful and young,whose names now thunder down the galleries of fame linked with Antietam,Shiloh, and blood-drenched Malvern Hill. Grant and Lee, those slumberinglions, that in after years were to shake the continent with appallingconflict, now stood side by side, each carrying the wedding favor oftheir friend.
"A scene of splendor ensued that recalled the old pageants of theMontezumas, when a long line of gilded coaches and prancing white horsesfiled out in the twilight, along the avenue returning to Monteluma. Thesun had set, but a parting gleam was yet crimsoning the snow on thevolcano of Toluco, while the sombre cypresses were aglow with the greenand rosy light of torches, carried by the double line of peons in theirancient Aztec garb. Old Monteluma glimmered like a jewel from terrace toturret with colored lights, while out upon the broad esplanades, wherethousands of the peons were feasting, the fountains flashed white andmisty, like the snow-storms of my Northern home.
"When Ivarene, leaning on Bruce's arm, walked up the long flight ofsteps to the doorway of her old home, the marble beneath her feet washidden by the rose-leaves strewn by peon girls in white, while her trainwas borne by four small Indian pages in feather costumes, gorgeous ashumming-birds. Within, the halls were blazing with light, and garlandedby tropic flowers. Tables were loaded with gold, silver, and crystal;wine flowed like water; while the viol and harp, gay dance and song,caused the hours to speed swiftly by, and the tired but happy revelersonly sought their homes when the snowy summit of Popocatapetl wasflushed with rose, and bars of pale gold flashed out from behind the dimcrest of Orizaba.
"After a brief honey-moon, which was spent at La Puebla, Bruce and hisbride returned to Monteluma, and so urgent was the invitation which theyextended for me to make my home with them until I should decide toreturn northward, that I immediately joined them in their princelyabode.
"My friend soon discovered that his rosy path was beset thickly withthorns, for every day he was made aware of the aversion in which hisMexican neighbors held him; their cold neglect cut deeper than theirswords. So it was with growing alarm that his wife beheld thesesymptoms, for she well knew how the fine speeches and grave courtesy ofher countrymen often covered hearts of hate and tiger-like rage; andwhen she saw the covert hostility of her former friends she becameapprehensive, indeed, for the safety of her husband.
"One day she startled us by proposing that we should all go North to herhusband's former home on the Hudson, and she then proceeded to say thatshe had grown to view her native land with something of the feelingswith which it was regarded abroad. She had resided in England severalyears, and now longed again for the life and freedom of theAnglo-Saxons.
"Although Bruce was overjoyed at the prospect, he still said he wouldnot insist on taking her from her native land and kindred; but when shesaid that her only relative living now was Labella, who was soon tomarry Herr Von Brunn, a merchant of the capital, and that she haddetermined to sell Monteluma to an Englishman for seventy thousanddoubloons, or over a million dollars, then he reluctantly consented tothe change, only stipulating that the immediate park, grounds, andmansion should be reserved, so that if she grew tired of her Northernhome they would find her old mansion awaiting their return.
"Kissing him tenderly, she declared he was a Rozarro in spirit, if notin name. It was decided to leave the villa in charge of Labella, and ina short time a sale of the estate was consummated for the sum of fiftythousand doubloons, or seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars ingold--the mansion and park being reserved.
"Senora Labella was dowered by Ivarene with a gift of several thousanddoubloons on her wedding Von Brunn, after which event we set to workearnestly preparing for our overland journey northward. A long train ofwagons were loaded with dry-goods for the markets of Northern Mexico.The price of such articles there had been enhanced enormously by thewar, and Von Brunn shrewdly advised us to pursue this course. WhenIvarene kindly offered to loan me money to invest in this manner, Igladly accepted fifty thousand dollars, with which I bought linen andcotton goods at the port of Vera Cruz, which was then crowded by theships of all nations.
"I might be pardoned for digressing a moment while speaking of thestrange belief in a future state which Bruce entertained. There was avein of seriousness and grave, quiet religion running through the natureof my friend, and often, while we were stretched on our blanket with nocanopy but the dewless Mexican sky, studded by the Southern Cross, andbespangled by constellations that were new and strange to oureyes--often, I say, he would talk of that weird belief, which then wasvery enigmatical to me, but which in my maturer life has recurred with asweet solace to my declining years.
"Bruce believed that the soul was an individual, invisible as air andimperishable as time itself, and that the spirit was a progressive,rational being, which could never leave this earth until the greatJudgment-day, at which time our planet would be as unfit for a humanabode as the moon is at present.
"After death, which, he said, was only a wearing out of the outergarment of the soul or spirit, the animating principle, or life, wouldstill inhabit the earth, invisible to human eyes, but yet anintelligent, observing being; subtile as air, yet powerful aselectricity. Whenever the newly released soul chose to do so, it couldtake on a new form by being re-born. He thought that before birth wewere possessed of a life akin to that of the vegetable kingdom, but atbirth a spirit that had lived before took possession of our bodies, andused us as a habitation until our bodies became either worn through age,or distasteful to the occupant--death ensuing in either case.
"His highest idea of heaven, he said, would be to have the power to liveagain, and again meet those friends whom he had loved best in the priorlife, guided to them unerringly by the mystic ties of love and affinity.Memory of the past life, he thought, was that sense which we callinstinct, conscience, or intuition, being only a feeble glimmer, as itwere, of the previous state in which we had lived.
"I remember well, the night before the battle of Churubusco, how Bruceand I talked of these things; for he said, as we sat beneath apalm-tree, while the tropic moon flooded the earth with a dreamysplendor, that we were to fight the last great battle of the war on themorrow--a conflict in which one or both of us might perish--and all thatreconciled him to such a fate was the belief that we should live again,and meet each other in this world, which was the only heaven we were yetfitted for.
"I would not have you entertain the thought for one instant that Brucewas skeptical or irreligious. On the contrary, his fearless piety wasoften commented upon; for I have seen him kneel on the bloody fields ofCerro Gordo and Contreras, and thank God in a trembling voice for hisgracious preservation of my life and his own, while the rude soldierystood by with mute respect, remembering his reckless daring andlion-like bravery in the hours of deadliest peril to which human lifecan be exposed.
"No; his creed was a very strange one, though one that is old as historyitself; he appeared to differ from the general belief only in hisdefinition of heaven and its location. He often said that if a manretrograded and became brutal he would meet his punishment in the nextlife, for his brutal instincts would seek their affinity after death andhe could only be re-born as a brute, in which state he would remainuntil his new life exhausted the brutal element from his soul.
"I fancy he imbibed his doctrines from his father, who had been anofficer in India. It might have been that the elder Walraven had therecaught glimpses of a belief somewhat akin to Buddhism. When I pressedBruce for his proof of this strange theory he referred me to theBible--Matthew xvi; 13, 14: 'When Jesus came to Cesarea Philippi, heasked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I, the Son of man, am?And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist; some, Elias; andothers, Jeremias, or one of the prophets.' All of which goes to provehow ancient the belief really is; for it is apparent that peoplebelieved Christ to be the reincarnation of a spirit of one of thosepeople who had been dead many years.
/> "Ivarene soon became converted to Bruce's creed, while I often findmyself, even yet, taking solace in this strange belief.
"Early in the spring of 1848, the long caravan started northward, andwhen we arrived at Chihuahua, a ready market was found for the goods,after disposing of which I found that I had more than doubled the suminvested; so when the debt was repaid to my kind benefactors, with theaddition of a liberal interest for the use of the money, there wasstill left me, as clear profit, fifty thousand dollars in gold.
"We spent the winter in Santa Fe, but early the next spring resumed ourjourney, I having in the meantime bought a few wagon-loads of wool totake through to Independence, Missouri, which was then the easternterminus of the Santa Fe Trail; but the money which I had saved from myspeculation remained intact, and was deposited with fifty sacks ofdoubloons (which were the property of Bruce and Ivarene) in a largeiron-bound cask of cypress-wood, each sack plainly marked with the nameof its owner, and the whole tightly packed in wool within the cask.
"This vast treasure, more than half a million of dollars in gold coin,only represented a portion of my friend's wealth; for there were chestsof costly silks, brocades, velvets, and priceless laces, all theaccumulation of centuries of luxury and boundless riches; paintings byMurillo and Velasquez, that for ages had adorned the long gallery atMonteluma; books of vellum, and richly bound volumes from itsmarble-paved library, together with a dozen wagon-loads of carved ebony,mahogany, and rosewood furniture from the same stately home.
"I shall never forget that glorious scene, the last evening inChihuahua, when the sinking sun lit up the low room where we three sat,with an open casket before us and the stone table ablaze with glimmeringgems.
"There were scores of great, pure diamonds, flashing back a quiveringglare of rainbow hues; rubies glowing like fire with rose and crimsonlight; white, frosty pearls, glinting beside the baleful emeralds, thatemitted fitful gleams of green and gold. Over all flickered the waveringshimmer of opal and blood-stones, mingling with the violet, lilac, andpurple rays of sapphires and amethysts.
"A great many of these gems had been purchased by my friends through theadvice and assistance of Von Brunn; but the most precious of the lotwere heir-looms, of which Ivarene was justly proud, and for an hour sherecounted their histories:--
"The great blood-stone had once shone in the war-club of an Aztecprince, who was slain in battle by the first Baron of Monteluma, one ofthose adventurous spirits that came over and shared the glory of theconquest with Cortez.
"The carcanet of pearls was a gift from Queen Isabella to the bride ofthe same brave knight.
"A diamond cross that had been bestowed by Leo X. upon a cardinal of thehouse of Rozarro.
"A ruby dragon that carried in its mouth the Order of the Golden Fleece.This was a mark of the highest honor that a Spanish king could conferupon his subject, a viceroy of Mexico, also a member of the sameillustrious family at Monteluma.
"There was a chain of rose-colored coral, to which was attached anenormous pearl of the same delicate hue; this bauble had been bestowedby the Doge of Genoa upon Don Arven Rozarro while the latter wasambassador of Spain at that superb though decaying city, and it wasthrough this elegant gift that the then all-powerful Spanish sword wasinduced to interpose its terrible edge as a shield against theaggressions of France.
"A pair of golden spurs, won long ago in the first Crusade by the Knightof Rozarro, and ropes of pearls that had adorned many a proud but longforgotten mistress of the great castle.
"All these were placed within the steel casket, and the only jewel thatIvarene reserved for her personal use on the journey was a locket with along gold chain. This was the most precious _souvenir_ in the wholecollection, so she averred, for it was set in gems with the name of hermother, and contained the miniature portraits of Bruce and Ivarene.
"The precious casket was kept in the large carriage, where Ivarene, hertwo maids, and Bruce rode on cushioned seats, that were constructed soas to serve as couches when the inmates of the vehicle became fatigued.Everything that wealth and loving care could secure was provided byBruce to lessen the tedium of the journey.
"The gold was placed in a large, strong wagon, drawn by twelve mules,and in addition to the treasure-cask, several barrels of wine and otherliquors were placed in the wagon for the purpose of warding offsuspicion. This vehicle was my special charge, and I carefully guardedit at night, but spent a portion of the day in sleep.
"We arrived in Santa Fe in the fall of 1848, and early the followingspring our long caravan started out on the monotonous course across theplains, by the route to Independence, Missouri, the quiet routine ofour journey only relieved by meeting with great trains of freighters onthe broad trail, or when Ivarene would take her guitar and sit out inthe starry evening playing the sweet airs of her home-land, old Spanishballads full of pathos and melody. Thus we journeyed until we reachedthis very spot on the 22d of August, 1849. The night was dark andcloudy, while a strange silence brooded over all nature, broken only bythe dismal howl of the wolf as it prowled on the lonely hills.
"We had remarked during the day that no teams were met--a most unusualoccurrence on that great thoroughfare, the Santa Fe Trail--and wevaguely wondered why the corral should be silent and deserted; for itwas a camping place that was renowned all along the trail for its safetyand convenience.
"The corral was an inclosure of about an acre, surrounded by lofty stonewalls that were pierced by loop-holes on every side; two large doors, orgates, opened to the north and south, which, after the teams offreighters had been drawn inside, were locked in times of danger. Thisfort-like corral had been built by the government as a place of refugefor travelers, but our long journey had been so free from trouble thatwe had become careless, and, as the night was very sultry and the airoppressive, we preferred camping outside the walls on the level land,where we are now sitting, near the bank of the Cottonwood.
"Ivarene had been feeling unwell that day, and we were all verysolicitous for her comfort and welfare at that time; for it was knownthat an interesting event would soon occur, that would give my dearfriend Bruce the title of father. In deference to her condition theusual noise and hilarity of the camp were not indulged in; but a senseof coming disaster, a foreboding of some great calamity, seemed to weighon the spirits of our party on that fatal evening.
"How strange it is that when the sky is serene and clear we may feel theapproaching storm! Who can explain that shock of repulsion we feel whenwe meet a secret foe? The same Providence whispered, that murky night,of the danger and disaster lurking near.
"But each one tried to shake off the feeling of apprehension; and as astorm was rising in the north-west we attributed our depression to thatstate of the atmosphere which precedes the thunderstorm.
"I did not sleep for several hours after retiring to the wagon, butremained wakeful and restless, listening to the jabbering of the wolvesand rumble of the distant thunder. The fitful slumber into which I atlength fell was pervaded by hideous dreams, and when I was awakened bythe yell of savages it seemed, for a moment, only the continuation ofthe strange phantasms that had haunted my sleep.
"But I sprang out, a pistol in each hand, and was soon struggling in thewhirlpool of confusion and terror that prevailed around. The crack ofrifles and whistling of arrows, the shrieks of the wounded and dying,the blood-chilling whoops of the Indians, all commingled with thebellowing of the frightened cattle in hideous clamor.
"With a feeling of sickening dread I thought of Bruce and his wife as Idashed toward their wagon. As I neared it a vivid flash of lightningfrom the cloud which had arisen revealed a scene of such revoltinghorror that its remembrance causes me yet to turn faint and dizzy. Morethan a quarter of a century has rolled by, fraught with war and sorrow,but that scene of woe is burned deep within my heart, to rankle long aslife endures."
Here the colonel's voice broke to a whisper, while the sobs of Maud andGrace mingled with their mother's soft weeping. Then, after a moment ofsilen
t anguish, while his hands hung clenched in an agony of intensegrief, with bowed head and a voice so husky that it was barely audible,the colonel continued:--
"By the dazzling light I saw Ivarene kneeling in her white robe, a lookof imploring agony upon her pale, uplifted face. Over her, with a poisedtomahawk, glared a powerful, painted demon. Bruce, struggling in thegrasp of two hideous savages, was driving his glittering dirk into thebreast of one of his assailants. I fired at the heart of the wretch whostood over Ivarene. With a dying yell he bounded into the air. Then, asdarkness was once again settling down over the scene, I felt the shockof a stunning blow--then a long oblivion."
The colonel was too visibly affected to proceed further with thenarrative, and as he relapsed into silence the listeners slowlydispersed, some to the duties of camp-life; others strolled out to thelong, grass-grown grave, leaving Colonel Warlow alone, lost inmeditation.
A Fortune Hunter; Or, The Old Stone Corral: A Tale of the Santa Fe Trail Page 4
