CHAPTER TWENTY.
IS CUMULATIVELY ASTONISHING.
There are, we suppose, in the lives of all men, critical periods--testing-points, as it were--when their faith in everything true isshaken almost, if not quite, to the foundation, and when they aretempted to ask with more or less of bitterness, "Who will show us anygood?"
Well is it for such when, in the hour of trial, they can look up to theFountain of all good and, in the face of doubt, darkness, difficulty,ay, and seeming contradiction, simply "believe" and "trust."
When Lawrence Armstrong slowly sauntered back to the inn after his finalinterview with Manuela, it surprised even himself to find how strong hadbeen his feelings, how profound his faith in the girl's goodness ofheart, and how intensely bitter was his disappointment.
"But it's all over now," he muttered, thrusting his hands deep into thepockets of his coat, and frowning ferociously at some imaginary wrong,though he would have been puzzled, if required, to state exactly whatthe wrong was. "All over," he repeated, and then continued with anaffected air of indifference, "and what of that? What matters it to methat I have been mistaken? I never was in love with the girl. Howcould I be with a black--well, a brown squaw. Impossible! It was onlyadmiration--strong admiration I admit--of what I had fancied were rarelyfine qualities, especially in a sav--an Indian; and I've been mistaken;that's all. That's all. But," (after a pause), "_have_ I beenmistaken? Does this unaccountably callous indifference at sayinggood-bye to one who is nothing to her--who never can be anything toher--argue that all the good qualities I have admired so much arenon-existent, or _bad_ qualities? Surely not! Let me consider. Let melook this perplexing matter straight in the face, and see what is to bemade of it. What _are_ the good qualities that I seem to have been somistaken about?"
Frowning still more ferociously, as if with a view to constrain himselfto the performance of a deed of impartial justice, our hero continued tomutter--
"Earnest simplicity--that's the first--no, that's two qualities. Bejust, Lawrence, whatever you are, be just. Earnestness, then, that'sthe first point. Whatever else I may have been wrong about, there canbe no mistake about that. She is intensely earnest. How often have Inoticed her rapt attention and the eager flash of her dark eyes whenPedro or I chanced to tell any anecdote in which injustice or crueltywas laid bare. She is so earnest that I think sometimes she hasdifficulty in perceiving when one is in jest. She does not understand apractical joke--well, to be sure there was that upsetting of the coffeeon Quashy's leg! But after all I _must_ have been mistaken in that. Somuch, then, for her earnestness. Next, simplicity. No child could bemore simple. Utterly ignorant of the ways of the world--the nauseousconventionalities of civilised life! Brought up in a wigwam, no doubt,among the simple aborigines of the Pampas, or the mountains--yes, itmust have been the mountains, for the Incas of Peru dwelt in the Andes."
He paused here for a few minutes and sauntered on in silence, while atinge of perplexity mingled with the frown. No doubt he was thinking ofthe tendency exhibited now and then by the aborigines of the Pampas andmountains to raid on the white man now and then, and appropriate hisherds as well as scalp himself!
"However, _she_ had nothing to do with that," he muttered,apologetically, "and cannot help the peculiarities of her kindred.Gentleness; that is the next quality. A man may mistake motives, but hecannot mistake facts. Her gentleness and sweetness are patent facts,and her modesty is also obvious. Then, she is a Christian. Pedro toldme so. She never omits to pray, night and morning. Of course, _that_does not constitute a Christian, but--well, then the Sabbath-day she hasall along respected; and I am almost sure that our regular halts on thatday, although ordered by Pedro, were suggested by Manuela. Of course,praying and Sabbath-keeping may be done by hypocrites, and for a badend; but who, save a consummately blind idiot, would charge that girlwith hypocrisy? Besides, what could she gain by it all? Pshaw! theidea is ridiculous. Of course there are many more good qualities whichI might enumerate, but these are the most important and clearlypronounced--very clearly."
He said this very decidedly, for somehow a counteracting suggestion camefrom somewhere, reminding him that he had twice saved the Indian girl'slife; that he had tried with earnest devotion to help and amuse her inall their journeyings together, and that to be totally indifferent aboutfinal separation in these circumstances argued the absence of evenordinary gratitude, which is clearly one of the Christian virtues!
"But, after all," he muttered, indignantly, "would not any young fellowhave done the same for any woman in the circumstances? And why shouldshe care about parting from _me_? I wouldn't care much about partingfrom myself just now, if I could. There, now, that's an end o' thematter. She'll go back to the wigwam of her father, and I'll go andhave a jolly good splitting gallop across the Pampas with Pedro andQuashy."
"Dat's just de bery best t'ing what you can do, massa."
Lawrence turned round abruptly, and found that his faithful servant washurrying after him, and grinning tremendously.
"Why, you're always laughing, Quash," said the youth, a little sharply.
"O massa!" exclaimed the negro, turning his mouth the other way. "I'snebber laugh no more if you don' like it."
"Like it, my good fellow!" exclaimed Lawrence, himself giving way to ashort laugh to conceal his feelings, "of course I like it, only you cameon me unexpectedly, and, to say truth, I am--"
"Still out ob sorts, massa?"
"Yes, that's it--exactly."
"Well, for a man out ob sorts, you walk most awrful irriglar--one timeslow, noder time so quick. I was 'bleeged to run to obertake you."
Further converse was checked by their arrival in the town. On reachingthe hotel they found the place in considerable confusion and bustleowing to preparations for the governor's ball, about to take place thatevening.
They met Pedro at the door.
"You'll go, I suppose?" he said to Lawrence, referring to the ball.
"Indeed I will not. I've had no invitation, and have no evening dress."
"Why, Senhor Armstrong forgets he is not now in England," said Pedro."We require neither invitation nor evening dress in an out-o'-the-wayplace like this. You'll find all sorts of people there. Indeed, a feware likely to be of the class who prefer to dance with their coats off."
"No matter, I'll not go. Nothing will induce me to go," returnedLawrence, firmly--almost testily.
"Don't say that," rejoined Pedro, regarding his companion with apeculiar smile. "You may perhaps meet friends there."
"You know that I have no friends here," returned our hero, who thereuponwent off to his own room to meditate over his uncomfortable feelings.
But when he had reached his room and shut his door, Pedro's reference tomeeting with friends, coupled with his peculiar look, recurred to him.What could the fellow mean? What friends had he in the country exceptPedro himself and Quashy and Spotted Tiger and--and--Manuela, but ofcourse he could not refer to the last, for who ever heard of a governorinviting an unknown Indian girl to a ball! No; Pedro must have beenjesting. He would _not_ go!
But the longer he thought over the matter, the more were his perplexityand curiosity increased, until at last he wavered in his firmdetermination not to go, and when the ball was about to begin, of whichthe sounds of hurrying steps and musical instruments apprised him, hechanged his mind. Combing his hair slightly, he tried to brush hisrough garments with his hands, arranged his necktie and flannel collar alittle, dusted his long boots with a towel, washed his hands, laid asidehis weapons, and went off to the hall with the intention of at leastlooking in at the door to see what was going on.
He met Pedro in the corridor.
"Ha! Senhor Armstrong has changed his mind?"
"Yes, I have."
Lawrence said this in the slightly defiant tone of a man who gives inwith a bad grace. He was altogether "out of sorts" and unlike himself,but Pedro, like a true friend, took no notice of that.
> "I'm glad you have given in, senhor," said Pedro, "for it saves me thetrouble of dragging you there by force, in order that I may have thepleasure of seeing how you will look under the influence of a surprise."
"A surprise, Pedro?"
"Yes. But come; the ball is about to begin."
At the end of the corridor they encountered the English sportsman, whoat the same moment chanced to meet his friend, to whom he said--
"I say, just come and--aw--have a look at the company. All free andeasy, no tickets required, no dress, no--aw--there goes the governor--"
The remainder was lost in distance as the two sporting characterssauntered to the ballroom, where they stood near the door, looking onwith condescending benignity, as men might for whose amusement the wholeaffair had been arranged.
And truly there was much to be amused at, as Lawrence and his companion,standing just within the doorway, soon found. Owing to the situation ofthe little town near the base of the mountains, there were men there ofmany nations and tongues on their way to various mines, or on businessof some sort in or on the other side of the mountains--Germans, French,Italians, English, Spanish, and Portuguese. All strangers were welcomedby the hospitable governor and landlord--the latter of whom felt, nodoubt, that his loss on food was more than counterbalanced by his gainon drink. Among the guests there were Gauchos of the Pampas, and thehead men of a band of peons, who had just arrived with a herd of cattle.As these danced variously, in camp-dresses, top-boots, silver spurs,ponchos, and shirt sleeves, and as the ladies of the town appeared inpicturesque and varied costumes with mantillas and fans, Lawrence feltas if he were witnessing a fancy dress gathering, and soon became soabsorbed as to forget himself and his companion entirely.
He was aroused from his reverie by the drawling exclamation--
"Aw! indeed?"
"Yes," replied the landlord to the sportsman, "the colonel's coming.He's a jolly old man, and likes to see other people enjoyin' a bit o'fun. An' what's more, he's goin' to bring his daughter with him, andanother girl--a niece, I suppose. They say they're both splendidcreatures."
"Aw! indeed," languidly replied the sportsman, twisting his moustache.
It was evident that the landlord had failed to arouse his interest.
At that moment the first dance came to an end, and there was a stir atthe upper end of the room, where was another door of entrance.
"It's the colonel," exclaimed the landlord, hurrying forward.
Colonel Marchbanks entered with a lady on either arm. He was a splendidold man--so tall that Lawrence could distinguish his fine bald head,with its fringe of white hair, rising high above the intervening guests.
People became silent and fell away from him, as if to have a better lookat him.
"Come," said Pedro, suddenly, "I will introduce you."
There was a strange gleam in Pedro's eyes, and unwonted excitement inhis manner, as he pushed his way through the crowd.
Lawrence followed in some surprise.
Suddenly he heard a sharp, strange, indescribable shout. It was thevoice of Pedro, who was only a few yards in advance of him. Our herosprang forward and beheld a sight which filled him with surprise. Oneof the girls who leaned on the colonel's arm was a beautiful blonde ofabout fifteen, with flowing golden hair and rich brown eyes. She stoodas if petrified, with the brown eyes gazing intensely at Pedro, who alsostood transfixed returning the gaze with compound interest.
"Mariquita!" he murmured, holding out both hands.
"Yes," said the delighted colonel, "I felt quite sure she was yourchild, but said nothing about--"
"Father!" burst from the girl, as, with a cry of joy, she bounded intoPedro's arms.
"Just so," continued the colonel, "I didn't like to mention mysuspicions for fear of raising false hopes, and thought the surest waywould be to bring them face to face. Wasn't it so, Manuela?"
Lawrence turned as if he had received an electric shock. He had been soabsorbed in the scene we have just described, that he had not looked atthe girl who leaned on the colonel's other arm. He now turned andbeheld--not the Indian girl of his travels, but a fair-skinned,dark-eyed senhorina. Yet as he gazed, the blood seemed to rush to hisbrain, for these were the eyes of Manuela, and the slightly open littlemouth was hers--the straight Grecian nose, and the graceful figure. Itseemed as if his wildest dream were realised, and that Manuela hadbecome white!
He clasped his hands and gazed, as Pedro had just done, with suchintensity that the sportsman, observing the rudeness, said to hisfriend--
"Aw--don't you think it would be as well to--aw--kick the fellow out ofthe room?"
"Hallo! what's this?" exclaimed the old colonel, turning sharply onLawrence with a magnificent frown.
It was quite evident that _he_, as well as Pedro and our hero, had alsoreceived a most unexpected surprise, for, not only did the youthcontinue to stand gazing, with clasped hands, but the young lady did notseem in the least offended. On the contrary, she looked up at thecolonel with an incomprehensible expression and a bewitching smile, asshe said, in excellent English--
"He is not rude, father, only astonished. Let me introduce my friendand preserver, Mr Lawrence Armstrong."
But Lawrence heard not, and cared nothing for the introduction.
"It _is_ Manuela!" he exclaimed, with a hesitating step forward, and alook of unbelief still lingering in his eyes.
She held out her little _white_ hand!
He grasped it. The _same_ hand certainly! There could be no doubtabout that.
"'Pon my honour--aw--the most interesting _tableau vivant_ I ever--aw--saw!"
"Come, come," cried the colonel, whose pleased smile had given place tounimaginable astonishment. "You--you should have prepared me for this,Manuela. I--I'm obliged to you, senhor, of course, for--for saving mydaughter; but--come, follow me!"
He turned and left the room with rapid strides, and would have draggedManuela after him, if that young lady had not been endued with a pace--neat, active, and what is sometimes called "tripping,"--which kept hereasily alongside of the ancient man of war.
Lawrence followed mechanically.
Pedro, with an arm round Mariquita's waist, brought up the rear.
As they vanished through the doorway the people gave them a heartycheer, and resumed dancing.
The sportsman found himself so much overcome that he could onlyejaculate, "aw!" But presently he recovered so far as to say, "Let's goan' have a ciga'," and he also melted from the scene.