CHAPTER XV--MILDRED CONFIDES IN INEZ
Mildred had hastened upstairs in alarm at the pandemonium of sound herown cry had aroused, for the baby's screams also gave back a thousandechoes and these sent the little one into fresh paroxysms of terror.
"This won't do, at all," she said anxiously, when baby Jane had sobbedherself into a doze, with the bottle to comfort her. "If we scream againit will frighten the child to death."
"Perhaps they have heard us," suggested Inez, rocking Jane to and fro inher arms.
"Perhaps. Let us hope so," sighed Mildred.
Presently she went over to the couch and examined the condition of thebedding. The linen sheets had withstood the years very well, but theblankets and coverlets had a musty smell. She spread some of these outto air and then went back and sat beside Inez.
Together they watched the light fade until the narrow space was full ofcreeping shadows. The air began to grow chilly, so Mildred arranged thecouch and they laid baby Jane upon it, covered her snugly with a blanketand drew the silk curtain to shield her eyes from the glare of thecandles. They had lighted several of these, placing them in heavy brasscandlesticks which they found ranged upon the shelves. Each of the girlstook a blanket and folded it about her and then they sat down togetherto await their fate as patiently as they could.
They both realized, by this time, that their dilemma was likely to proveserious. Not a sound from within the house penetrated the adobe walls oftheir prison. They were unable to tell if their whereabout had yet beendiscovered.
"I think it best to wait until morning before we make any further effortto be heard," said Mildred. "Our cries would only distract baby and ifour screams have not already attracted notice it would be folly tocontinue them. Anyway, let us try to be brave and patient. Something mayhappen to save us, before morning."
Even by the flickering candle-light the place was awesome and uncanny.Inez crept closer to Mildred's side, quite forgetting her formeraversion for her companion. Because the sound of their own voices lentthem a certain degree of courage they conversed together in low tones,talking on any subject that occurred to them.
At one time Inez broke an oppressive stillness by saying:
"Tell me about yourself--when you were a girl. And why did you leavehere to go to New York?"
Mildred regarded the girl musingly. She felt a strong temptation tospeak, to confide in some one.
"Will you keep my secret, Inez?" she asked.
"Yes; of course. I do not tell all I know," was the reply.
"If you told, it would drive me away from here," said Mildred.
Inez gave a start, remembering that a few hours ago she would have doneanything to drive Mildred away. But, somehow, she had come to regard hercompanion in misfortune more favorably. A bond of sympathy had beenestablished between them by this terrible experience they were nowundergoing. Whatever their fate might be, Inez could not hate Mildredafter this.
"I do not wish to drive you away," she asserted in a positive voice. "Iwill not tell your secret."
For a time Mildred mused silently, as if considering how to begin.
"My mother died when I was a baby," said she. "She was a Travers andlived on a ranch near here."
"I know the Travers Ranch," said Inez quickly. "But no Travers have livethere in a long time."
"My mother lived there," continued Mildred, "until she married myfather. Indeed, she lived there several years after, for I was born inthe ranch house. But my mother's people--the Traverses--did not like myfather, and when mother died he took me away to a house in Escondido. Ithink he was sent away, and the family sold the ranch and went back toEngland, where they had originally come from.
"In Escondido an old Mexican woman kept house for us. She was namedIzbel."
"Ah!" cried Inez, nodding her head wisely; "I know." Then, as Mildredlooked at her questioningly, she added: "Go on."
"My father was away from home much of the time. He traveled, andsometimes he took me with him into Mexico, and we went as far south asMatanzas, and once to Mexico City. That was when I was quite small, andI do not remember much about it. But often we came here to visit SenorCristoval, with whom he had some secret business. I have seen him givemy father big bags of golden coins, although everyone said he was amiser. I remember that at one time my father hid in this very wall for aday and a night, and officers came to the house and searched it, sayingthey were looking for a smuggler and had traced him here.
"But Senor Cristoval laughed at them and told them to examine the housethoroughly. This they did, and went away satisfied. Afterward my fathercame out of the wall and took me across the country to San Bernardino,where we stayed at a friend's house for several days. Finally SenorCristoval came there to visit us and I heard him tell my father it wouldnot be safe for him to return home and advised him to go far away. Healso gave my father much money, and one curious thing which he said tohim I never forgot. 'I will keep your fortune safely until you need it,'was his remark. 'I will hide it where no one will ever find it, any morethan they could find you.'"
"Ah! then he hid your father's fortune in this place?" cried Inezeagerly. Then her face fell. "But, no," she added. "We have look, andthere is no fortune here."
Mildred sighed and continued her tale.
"After this Senor Cristoval shook my father's hand, and kissed me--forhe was always fond of me--and went away. I never saw him again. Myfather and I traveled to New York and as I was then eleven years of ageI became much troubled over our exile and begged to be told why it wasnot safe for us to stay in California. He explained to me that he hadpurchased laces and other goods in Mexico and brought them into theUnited States secretly, without paying the duty which the robbinggovernment officials imposed. For that he said he was liable to bearrested and put in prison, and if I ever allowed the secret to escapeme I would be the means of ruining him. I was a very sensitive child,and the importance of this great secret weighed upon me heavily. Myfather declared he had done no wrong, but I knew that the officers ofthe law were constantly searching for him and it so crushed me anddestroyed my happiness that at twelve years of age I was as nervous, assuspicious and evasive as any old woman could be."
She paused and gave a little shudder. Said Inez, who had listenedintently:
"I know now who you are. Your name is Mildred Leighton."
"You know that!" cried Mildred, amazed.
"Of course I know that, when I know your father was the great smugglerthat the officers never could catch. I am told many stories aboutLeighton the smuggler, and old Izbel, who kept his house, is my aunt.Old Izbel say Senor Cristoval give Leighton the money to buy with, andLeighton give Senor Cristoval, who love money so much, half of all hemake. But no one could ever prove that. Leighton was very clever man. Noone could ever catch him."
Inez spoke admiringly, as if Mildred's father was a hero and Mildred hadgained added prestige by being his daughter. But the other girl frownedand continued her story.
"In New York," she said, "we lived in a boarding house and I was sent toschool. My father was not kind to me any more. He grew cross and gloomyand often would say if I told his secret he would kill me. I did nottell; I kept the secret safe locked in my heart and suffered agonies ofapprehension for his sake, for I still loved him fondly. He now bought alittle ship and began to make sea voyages to and from Cuba. He would notlet me go with him and he only swore when I tried to get him to give upthe wicked and dangerous life he was leading. Often he denouncedCristoval, who had in his possession valuable goods and money belongingto my father but would not give them up because he knew my father darednot go to California to get them.
"For years father continued to smuggle without being suspected. Then onemorning I received a note asking me to come to the prison to see him.They had caught him at last and seized his ship, and he said there hadbeen a fight in which several of the government agents had been shot,and one killed. My father did not shoot, he told me, but they wouldblame him for everything.
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p; "He stayed in the prison for a month, and every day I went to see him.Then came the trial and he was sentenced to prison for life. They--theyproved that he ordered his men to shoot," she added, lowering her headas if ashamed.
"Well, that was right," maintained Inez, cheerfully. "If they try toarrest him, Leighton was right to shoot."
"No, Inez, he was very wrong," replied Mildred sadly. "I would never beallowed to see my father after he was taken away, so they let us talkfor the last time. He told me they had taken away all his money and hehad nothing to give me, but that if I could manage to get to Californiaold Senor Cristoval owed him much money and--and other things, andperhaps he would give it to me, although he had refused to give it to myfather. Afterward they took him away to Sing Sing prison, and that wasthe last I ever saw of him, for a year later he died.
"I do not suppose, Inez, any girl was ever left with such a heritage ofshame and trouble. You think me hard and cold; but can you blame me?Always I think some one will discover my secret, that they will say I amthe daughter of Leighton the smuggler and point the finger of shame atme.
"I was a friendless girl with no money. The people at the boarding housewould not let me remain and I took my little bundle and wandered outinto the street in search of home and employment. It was then that akind lady, a Mrs. Runyon, had pity on me and put me into a school fornurses. I was fifteen years old and big and strong for my age. Atseventeen I was nursing in a charity hospital, but my father's disgracehad made me an outcast and prevented my obtaining situations with goodfamilies. Mrs. Runyon tried to help me but my story was too well known.I changed my name from Leighton to Travers, but even that did not bringme better luck.
"For two years longer I worked for a bare pittance, and then suddenly aray of sunshine appeared. Miss De Graf came to the hospital where I wascaring for an injured child and offered me a position with her cousinout here in California, where I had known the happiest days of my life.More than that, I found to my joy that I was coming directly to the oldCristoval house, for although Senor Cristoval was long since dead--as Ihad found out by writing him--I remembered the secret rooms and hoped Imight find at least a part of my father's fortune still hidden there.
"Well," she added after a pause, "these are the rooms, and there isnothing of value left in them; this is the old Cristoval home, where myfather was forced to hide from the law; this is the country where theofficers hounded the hated smuggler like a dog and finally drove himaway. And here is the girl, Inez, who has passed through all thesescenes and to-day finds nothing in life worth living for."
Inez took her hand, shyly but tenderly.
"Meeldred," she said softly, "perhaps your life will end here. It willbe strange, will it not, if that is so? But if we cannot get out, itmakes a good story to die in this old den of the smuggler, your father.I will die with you; but I do not mind--much. But Mees Jane--"
She broke off with a wail of anguish and Mildred said hastily:
"Inez, we must save the baby! And, if we do, we shall also saveourselves. Come; you, at least, have much to live for. You will care forthe baby after I have gone far away, and you will be glad, then, thatthe hated Mildred is out of your life."
"But I do not hate you any more!" cried the Mexican girl protestingly."I like you now, Meeldred. We will be friends, an' we will be happytogether, if--if--"
"If what, Inez?"
"If we live to get out of this wall."