Overland Tales

by Josephine Clifford

  _MANUELA._

  "Poor Mrs. Kennerly" was more lachrymose than usual to-day; her eyespaler, her hair more faded. Paul Kennerly, the keen-eyed, robustcounterpart and husband of the lady, was measuring the room withimpatient steps. When her pale-blue eyes shed tears and grew paler, hisflashed fire and grew deeper blue; when her light-yellow hair hung limpand loose about her eyes, his darker, heavier locks rose obstinatelyfrom his forehead, and were shaken back, now and again, as a lion shakeshis mane. While the profuse tears coursing over his wife's cheeks seemedto bleach their original pink into vapid whiteness, his own flushed hotand red with the quick blood mounting into them.

  Yet, Mrs. Kennerly, of whom her friends spoke only with the adjective"poor" prefixed, was not a martyr; on the contrary, to the unprejudicedobserver, the great tall man, in spite of flashing eye and reddenedcheek, appeared much more in that light and character.

  "Laura, _will_ you stop crying just for two seconds, and listen to whatI have to say?"

  "Oh, my poor sister! my poor sister! Coming home, and unwelcome in herown dead father's house! unwelcome to her own brother-in-law, at thehouse of her poor dead father--oh!"

  Before she had finished her lamentation, Mr. Kennerly had left the room,shutting the door behind him with a crash, and crossing the corridorwith long, heavy strides. Then his steps resounded on the veranda, wherethe June sun threw deepening shadows of the old locusts that stoodsentinel in a half circle on the lawn. Pacing back and forth, with knitbrows and downcast eyes, the wooing beauties of the summer day were loston him, as they were without charm or joy to the weak-minded womanfretting and complaining in her darkened room up-stairs.

  Unnoticed by him was the short sweet grass on the lawn, and the rows ofblossoming lilacs and budding roses that hedged it in on either side,down to the road; unheeded on his ear fell the gentle murmuring of thewind in the cluster of poplar, beech, and elm that stood bowing andswaying by the large old gate. Was it possible that he had ever pushedthrough its portals (a wanderer returned to his early home), anexpectant bridegroom, to meet the meek-eyed bride whose phantom onlyseemed now to haunt the old-fashioned, hospitable house? Again PaulKennerly threw back the hair from his forehead with the lion-like motionthat had grown more abrupt and hasty year after year. Then the footstepson the veranda ceased, and soon soft, full chords, such as a master-handonly could strike on the piano, sounded through the wide corridor, andfloated up to the ears of the self-willed invalid. Louder and strongergrew the strains; and the woman, in her feebleness, cowered on herlounge up-stairs, and complained fretfully, "Now he storms again!" whilethe man below seemed to have forgotten everything; his own existence,perhaps--the existence of the woman, surely.

  Yet she was present to the waking dreams he dreamed of his earlyyouth--they could not be dreamed without her. She had been his playmate,his _protege_; as her younger, stronger sister had been his naturalantagonist and aversion. The father had been his guardian. And when Paulwent as sutler and trader to New Mexico, just as Laura was budding intogirlhood, it was tacitly understood that on his return he would claimher as his betrothed. Years passed, and when old Mr. Taylor felt his endapproaching, he begged Paul to return, and be to his two daughters theprotector that he had been to Paul's helpless childhood. Soon afterLaura's marriage, Mr. Taylor died, firm in the belief that he had made ahappy man of his favorite, Paul.

  Before the mourning year was over, a schoolmate of Paul's, an armyofficer, some years his senior, came to spend a month's furlough at theold Taylor mansion. When he left, he was the willing slave and avowedsuitor of Regina, the queenly younger sister of Laura. If there were nohearty congratulations from Paul's side, I doubt that either ColonelDouglass, in his happiness, or Laura, in her self-absorption, felt thewithholding of his kind wishes; and Regina cared very little either forhis favor or his disapproval.

  Even before they were married, Regina knew that after a few short weeksspent in the home-like, elegant quarters at the arsenal, they must leavethe ease and luxuries of civilization for the wilds of some frontiercountry. But Regina was content to reign over the limited number ofhearts to be found in a frontier's camp, as she had reigned over hertrain of admirers in the ball-room and at the watering-places; and, tothe delight of her husband, she uttered no word of complaint when anorder from the War Department sent them to an adobe-built fort on theRio Pecos, in the most desolate part of all New Mexico.

  "Now, I should like to go with you, Hal," had said his brother-in-law,when he read him the order; and he raised his head and flung back hishair, as though he felt the wild, free wind of the Plains tossing it.

  Paul rode back from the arsenal slowly that evening; and the nearer homehe came, the lower drooped his head, the darker grew his brow. At homehe paced the floor uneasily, paying little heed to the feeble whimperingof his wife, who had been frittering her life away betweencamphor-bottles and sentimental novels since Regina had left the house.

  The drawing-room, where the piano stood, and where the windows openedout on the veranda and the lawn, was his harbor this night, as oftenwhen either his own thoughts or the selfish complainings of his wifedrove him distractedly about the house. But this night there sounded asingle soft strain through his "storming,"--as his wife called it,--andthe strain grew wilder and sweeter, till suddenly lost, as the note ofsome clear-voiced, frightened bird is lost in the howling of themidnight storm.

  Then had come days of calm, during which the piano remained closed, andhe sat meekly under the drivelling talk of his wife, and in the close,dark atmosphere which alone, she insisted, suited the delicatecomplexion of her face and of her mind.

  After that, an occasional letter from his brother-in-law, now at hisstation on the Rio Pecos, or an extra twist of the cord matrimonial,which, since the day of his marriage, seemed literally to encircle hisneck, would set the lion to fuming in his cage; and, with the toss ofhis hair from the forehead, would commence the wandering through thehouse which always ended with "storming" the piano.

  But the days are passing while we travel back into the past; and one,not far distant, brings Regina, the unwelcome. Before she had been inthe house many days, she knew from her sister's rambling talk what Paulhad said of her coming before she came--knew that he did not believewhat the colonel had written about the disastrous effects of the NewMexican climate on his wife's health; but believed, rather, the rumorsthat had come to him from all sides, each varying a little from the restin detail, but all agreeing in the main. Regina's marble face, andnervous, transparent fingers, might have confirmed the theory of failinghealth; but there was something in the momentary flash of her darkeyes, as she listened to her sister's quavering voice, that told ofenergy or despair, such as woman gains and gathers only from a suddencalling forth of all her passions and powers for the defence of herlife, her honor, or position, as the case may be. It may have been onlyonce, in the long past, that this power was called out; but, like theheat-lightning at the close of a hot, murky day, it throws balefulgleams on the cloud-darkened horizon of her life forever after.

  "My sternly-virtuous moral brother-in-law," Regina said softly toherself, seated on a low stool in the room where her cradle had stood,"would fain drive me from my own father's house, for a fancied injury tothe fair name of the Kennerly-Taylor family. Ah, well! the end of alldays has not come yet."

  Her head sank on her bosom, as she sat watching the shadows of thetree-clump by the gate, growing longer and deeper in the fading light ofthe western sun; and a tear stole into her eye and trickled slowly downher pure white cheek. Her sister, creeping up to her, and looking intoher face with what affection she was capable of, shed more of hereasy-coming tears.

  "I told him they were slandering you. Papa always said you were tooproud to do a wrong and not acknowledge it. And Paul was always hard onyou, I know; and it's all a lie and slander; for even if you were not mysister, I could tell, as any one could, from your face, that you aregood and without sin. I know from the stories I have read--they all havejust such pale, fau
ltless faces when they're persecuted; and afterwardsthe misunderstanding is cleared up, and they get married. But then, you_are_ married." She had gotten into deep water now; and thinking,probably, that her younger, cleverer sister would solve this problem asshe had so many others, Laura picked up her camphor-bottle and returnedto her own room. Regina remained, her "pale, faultless face" turned tothe dying light, a pensive, half-pained, half-sad expression on her lipsand in her eye, looking almost like a saint striving to forgive andbless her traducers.

  Yet the woman was not without sin; though how much was to be laid at herdoor none could tell.

  Out in New Mexico, the rumor ran, at the lonely adobe-built post on theRio Pecos, where her husband, the colonel, was stationed, there was alsoa post surgeon, a young, handsome man, of fascinating manners, ofunquestioned skill and bravery, and born of an Italian mother, from whomhe had inherited passion, temper, and disposition, together withSouthern eyes and curly, silken hair. His courage had probably come fromhis American father; none but such could have a son who, in hisdare-devil bravery, would go so far as to capture and tame a youngpanther, and chain him outside his door, to act as watch-dog andprotector. And so great was the love of this animal for his master, thathe was known to leap and roar for joy when seeing him approach after anabsence from home.

  Of course, Regina was expected to visit and admire the panther as a"natural curiosity;" and her hand, too, it was said, the beast wouldlick with every sign of affection and submission. Rumor said, that inthe dead of night, when no one else could approach the doctor's quarterswithin a hundred yards, she could pass by and into the doctor's roomswithout hindrance or opposition from Royal, the panther. And, moreover,rumor went on to say, that whenever the colonel was away on duty,looking after those troublesome Navajoes and uncertain Apaches, Regina'swhite robe was frequently seen flitting past the uncanny keeper of thedoctor's door.

  But there came a day--a night, rather--when Royal, after a short butterrible conflict with a midnight invader, lay dead on his master'sdoorsteps, and over the body strode the invader into the presence of theyoung doctor, who, with an almost superhuman effort, tried to shield thequeenly, white-robed form that fell prone to the floor. To be sure, hereceived a bullet in his temple; and the dark, silken curls were dankand stiff with gore when the sun lighted up the low adobe room nextmorning. However, he had saved _her_ life; for the colonel became coolwhen he saw the destroyer of his peace and honor lying dead at his feet.

  There was no public trial--not even a court-martial. The colonel hadkilled the doctor in a duel; but nobody demanded a record of the event,and the reprimand he received was not by sentence. But he was ordered toFort Marcy, near Santa Fe. The colonel had borne off a cut across theforehead, extending upward till under the hair, in one of the pitchedbattles with the Indians; and he was known to suffer from headache andirritation of the wound to such a degree, at times, thatover-excitement, from anger or other cause, made him almost crazy. Hewas an old, valiant, and valued officer; and the War Department, notsupposed to know any uninvestigated matter, would excuse many things insuch a one, even though it could not approve them.

  Then it was that the colonel's wife had returned to the States "for herhealth,"--as her husband was particular to write to his brother officersstationed at the barracks and arsenal near to the western city where hiswife's home was.

  Who can tell how rumor travels? When Regina made her appearance at thearsenal, the very women who had once been proud of her notice seemedhardly to remember a passing acquaintance with her; and, stung to thequick, she had barely strength to control her face and hold high herhead till the door of her carriage had closed on her. She laid back herhead, throbbing and aching, yet filled with a thousand plans forregaining her position and punishing those who had so humbled her.

  It was one of Paul's restless days; and she heard him "storming" on thepiano as her carriage entered the gateway. With sudden interest sheraised her head, while her face grew animated with some strugglingthought.

  When night had set in, and the broad hall-door was thrown open to admitthe soft breeze and the tender moonlight, Regina, for the first timesince her return to the home of her childhood, approached the piano inthe drawing-room and ran her fingers over the keys. The door stood open,and from her seat she could see into the hall, and catch a glimpse ofPaul's shadow every time he passed the hall-door in his walk on themoonlit veranda. Not a muscle of her face moved as she continued in herplay, striking chords and running _roulades_, without any apparentpurpose save that of touching once more the old familiar key-board.Paul's shadow flitted by, regularly and restlessly, never varying aninch in his distance from the door as he passed it. Suddenly the chordsmelted into a melody low and sweet, yet swelling almost into wildness inits yearning, longing tenderness.

  Regina listened intently, and--surely Paul could not have pausedsuddenly in his walk on the veranda! Directly his footsteps came again,halting and uncertain, and Regina repeated the air, throwing into itmore intensity, even, than at first. She seemed absorbed in her playing,though she knew full well when Paul's hesitating footsteps crossed thethreshold, and moved nearer the drawing-room entrance. When he stood inthe door, she looked up, as though unwilling to be disturbed in hermusical meditations. One look at the deathly-pale face, above which thedark blonde hair rose like a lion's mane, assured her that she wouldgain--_had_ gained--her end; and she played on, as though forgetting hispresence in an instant. Presently, a hoarse, unsteady voice reached herear:

  "Where did you learn that air? Who taught you the song?"

  She looked up unconcernedly.

  "That air? Do you like it?"

  He nodded his head impatiently.

  "Where did you learn it? Who taught you?"

  "That song? Oh, I learned that in New Mexico."

  He looked at her wildly for a moment, but her gaze was so steady that hedropped his eyes and moved slowly away.

  Late in the night, when Regina awoke from a sleep sweeter and sounderthan any she had yet enjoyed, she heard Paul's steps in the hall-way, onhis way to bed.

  "You have left me alone all night again," complained his wife, when heentered the room; "and I have had one of my nervous spells."

  "You keep the room so confoundedly hot and full of camphor that itsmothers me to stay here," was the crusty reply.

  "Would you want me to keep the windows and shutters open, so as to letthe mosquitoes come in and devour us?"

  "Why do you keep the light burning till twelve in the night, then?"

  "But, Paul, I can't read in the dark, can I? And I want some pastime, Iam sure, so sick and feeble as I am," weeping for very pity of herself.

  "Throw those foolish books out of the window; the camphor-bottle, too;let air and daylight into your room, and you'll soon get well andstrong," he answered, willing to be kind and anxious to hush herdistracting sobs.

  Regina, in her room, breathed a little sigh of satisfaction; for thoughshe could not hear the conversation, she could guess very nearly whatPaul's reception had been: "Ah! my clever brother-in-law, yours is not abed of roses, either;" and with this comforting reflection she droppedoff to sleep.

  Next morning, at the breakfast-table, Regina watched with placidinterest the haggard face of Paul, and the furtive looks he threw overto where she sat. During the morning his wife was attacked with sickheadache, "from reading those trashy novels," he said; and by night hewas wandering through the house again, groaning in very anguish ofspirit, and flying, at last, to his only refuge, the piano. Through theloud clanging of the chords there breathed a strain, now and then, ofthe song Regina had played; but in a moment it was drowned by the loudercrashes, which almost shook the house, and seemed the outpouring of somewild spirit in its abject misery. Day followed day, and as the seasonadvanced, and autumn set in, with stormy days and long, moonless nights,Paul grew more restless; and one night, when he had wandered through thehouse all day--"as though driven by the Fury of Remorse," Reginasaid--she went, unobserved, into the draw
ing-room, from where soon camethe strains of the song that had so agitated Paul. Again his heavy stepsapproached the door, and, as he entered the room, Regina said toherself, "He has grown ten years older since that evening last summer,and he is ripe for my purpose now."

  "You learned that song in New Mexico?" he asked, trying to speak in hisusual quiet tones. "I suppose it is a popular air among the Mexicans?"

  "Not a common one, though it is a Spanish song;" and she softly sang therefrain, "_Ela--Manuela!_"

  Had she stabbed him to the heart he could not have turned paler, orsprung forward quicker, than at the uttering of the words.

  "She taught it you! Tell me quick, for God's sake!"

  He had clutched her arm, and was shaking her without knowing it.

  "Gently, my dear brother-in-law," she said, sneeringly; and he shook thehair back from his forehead, and regained his self-possession by astrong effort.

  "You wanted to know who taught me the song? My information has aprice."

  She had folded her hands in her lap, and was looking quietly into hisface.

  "Name it!" he burst out impatiently.

  "It is a high price; but I can give you _all_ the information you maywant in return. Here is a sample."

  She had turned the music-stool on which she was seated, and while hepaced up and down the room to hide his agitation, she continued in thetone of one holding easy converse with a good friend:

  "I learned this little Spanish song from a very pretty girl in NewMexico. She said she had once taught it to an American, a tall, handsomeman, with blue eyes and fair face, who must have been in love with her,I think, for he had always substituted her name, in the refrain, for thename which the author of the song had put into it. She, too, must havebeen fond of this American with blue eyes and dark blonde hair; for,though not in the least conceited, or aware of her own attractions, shealways sang the refrain with her own name, Manuela, instead of theoriginal name, Juanita, simply because this American had wished her soto do. The air is beautiful, I think; and the words are very prettytoo." She turned to the keys again, as though to repeat the air.

  "Stop!" he said hoarsely, arresting her hand; "you will kill me. What isthe price you ask?"

  "The price is high," he groaned, when she had coolly and in unfalteringtones stated her conditions to him. "But if you promise to keep to yourword, I will do my best."

  "You will succeed, then," she said, holding out her hand, and speakingalmost cordially as they parted for the night.

  When she reached her room she seemed for once to have fallen into Paul's_role_ of Wandering Jew; but her steps were noiseless, though thethoughts that danced and chased through her brain _would_ come to hertongue, in quick, triumphant words.

  "My upright, truthful judge and brother-in-law--to bring about areconciliation between his best friend, my husband, and his 'erring butloving wife.'" A haughty look flashed in her eyes: "Regina--and pleadingfor forgiveness! Ah, well--even a queen must sometimes stoop toconquer!"

  The weeks passed slowly on; and, absorbed though Laura was in hercamphor-bottle and her novels, she could not but notice that Paul hadaltogether changed in his behavior toward her sister; and she rejoicedover this in her own fashion:

  "I always told Regina that her innocence would come to light, and shewould triumph over the machinations of her enemies, and get married toa--But she _is_ married--I forget. Well, it will all come right, andshe'll be ever so happy, I know."

  Poor thing! She could not live to see her so. The camphor-bottle, theclose, dark room, and the Frenchy novels were too much for her; andbefore the spring had brought any flowers to strew on her grave, theyhad laid her in a darker, closer room than she had yet been in. Herhusband and Regina followed the coffin, dressed in deep mourning; andRegina's face, as well as Paul's, was paler and sadder by a good manyshades than usual.

  Meanwhile, letters passed frequently between Paul and his friend andbrother-in-law; and one day, when the roses and lilacs that bordered thelawn were shedding fragrance and beauty together over the oldhomestead-grounds, Paul announced to his sister-in-law that he wouldaccompany her on her journey to New Mexico.

  How the wind of the plains through Paul's hair made it look more thanever like a lion's mane! and how like the Paul of long ago he looked,mounted on his fiery black horse! Something like pity for him sometimesstole into Regina's heart; but she would sneer at herself for thefeeling. "Did he pity me when I came home broken-hearted--repentant?"

  The long hours of their rest--for the colonel had seen to it that hiswife had not to travel in the plebeian stage, but was furnished trainand escort at Fort Leavenworth--she beguiled with telling, bit by bit,the story of her acquaintance with Manuela, who had found her way to thefort on the Rio Pecos, one day, where they had been stationed. Reginahad been captivated at once by the girl's gentle face and soft blackeyes; and when, after an acquaintance of some weeks, she surmised thatthe girl was looking for the man who had once loved and then,unaccountably, deserted her, she felt only pity for one who could sounselfishly and devotedly love any man as to give up home and friends,and wander through what must seem the wide world to this poor girl, insearch of him. That the man was Paul, she felt quite sure; though shehad never expressed the least suspicion of this to the colonel.

  This much only could Paul learn from his sister-in-law; and that sheknew, even now, where the girl could be found; further than this shewould not say; would not tell him that Manuela had lived in her ownhousehold, half as domestic, half as companion; that she had beeninduced to this by the vague hope that while with Americans she mightmore easily learn of those who arrived, or returned, from the States tothe Territories; that on leaving Santa Fe she had exacted a promise fromthe girl to remain in the colonel's quarters and employ until she shouldsend her permission to leave her post.

  And so they reached Santa Fe--Paul hopeful and expectant as a youngbridegroom; Regina calm and thoughtful, but trying to look cheerful whenshe knew of Paul's eyes resting on her; when unobserved, the dreary,despairing look crept back into her eyes, and her face, white as marble,grew rigid as the face of a statue. When the cluster of square,low-built adobe houses, called Santa Fe, rose up before them, Paulcould hardly restrain his impatience; but he had promised to be guidedin all things by his sister-in-law, and he had now to abide by herdecisions. "It would be painful and embarrassing to have any one, evenher own brother-in-law, present at her first meeting with the colonel,"she said, and therefore requested Paul to remain over night in Santa Fe,and ride over in the morning to where Fort Marcy lay, on the low rise ofthe hills bordering the plain.

  Since Regina so wished it, let the meeting between herself and husbandbe entirely private. We will not draw aside the veil till the nextmorning, which came up with a blaze of broad, staring sunshine,promising an unpleasantly hot day. The commanding officer's quarters,though surrounded by a neat paling-fence, was as bare and innocent ofthe least attempt at a garden as all the rest of the quarters were. Thered, hard earth alone stared up at the hard blue sky; outside thefortress walls, ungainly cactus and stunted mesquit bushes made theplain look only the more inhospitable and barren.

  The quarters were low, but cool; and as the doorways were only hung withcurtains, the breeze that swept over the plain had free access to everyroom in the house. The large sitting-room at the colonel's quarters hadbeen darkened since early morning, and the heat excluded as much aspossible, for the colonel was threatened with a severe attack of thetorturing headache that sprang from the badly-healed wound in hisforehead. As the sun rose higher, he succumbed to the pain; and as hethrew himself on the wide, low lounge, in intolerable suffering, Reginastepped lightly to his side, to supply the usual remedies. But a coldlook and colder words drove her back from his couch; and as he called toManuela to bathe his head, in gentle, almost tender tones, she for thefirst time felt a deadly hatred toward this girl, whom she knew still tobe an angel in virtue and purity.

  Struck to the heart, she left the room, only to throw hersel
f on thehard floor of the next apartment, where she grovelled in an agony ofanger and pain. Suddenly the sound of horses' hoofs fell on her ear, andshe sprang up with one wild bound, and flew to the door, just in time tomotion Paul, who had already dismounted, into her presence.

  "Now has my time come!" She could hardly restrain herself from crying itout aloud to the frowning mountain and the arid plain. "Ricardo, thoushalt be avenged! avenged thou, my poor heart, for the tears and theblood wrung from thee for many, many bitter days!"

  The light of the sun shining into Paul's eyes, blinded him; and thoughhe saw the finger laid on her lips, he could not see the dishevelledhair and bloodshot eyes, and approached her, looking for some gladsurprise. He had donned a Mexican costume, and the little silver bellson the outside seam of his pantaloons jingled musically at every step;while the short jacket, showing the pistol-belt under the red sash, sethis figure off to full advantage.

  He spoke laughingly: "You see I have turned Mexican, every inch of me!"then he caught the wild eyes, with their frenzied look, and he graspedher hand, exclaiming, "Good God! what has happened?"

  "Happened?" she echoed with a demoniac laugh; "we have beendeceived--outraged--cheated out of our life's happiness--both you and I!Behold the traitor and the serpent!"

  Drawing aside the curtain that hung in the door-arch between the tworooms, she beckoned him to approach, and pointed silently to the groupin the next room. Bending over the reclining form of the man on thelounge stood a girl, whose face, of angel goodness, was turned inprofile to the two intruders at the doorway. The man's eyes were closed;and as the girl stooped lower, his hand stole softly around her form,and nestled there, lovingly, tenderly, as though it had found along-sought resting-place. Pliant braids of glossy black hair fell farbelow the girl's waist; and her eyes were of the almond shape, that wefind in the faces of those descended from the people of Castile.

  In a moment Paul's burning eyes had taken in the picture, and aninarticulate sound came over his lips. The woman beside him watched himwith the eyes of a tigress; and he never knew--was it _her_ touch thatguided him, or did his own evil passions move his hand from his reekingbrow to the pistol in his belt? There was a sharp report, a shriek and agroan, and the next minute Paul Kennerly was dashing over the plain,mounted on his fleet black horse, the wind tossing through his hair, andraising it from his bare brow, where it reared itself proudly, like themane of a lion when he flies from captivity and death.