CHAPTER XXXII.
FRAY AMBROSIO.
We will now return to the gambusinos.
Sutter and Nathan had not said a word to their brother; while he, forhis part, did not appear to have recognised them. When all werepreparing to sleep, Shaw also laid himself on the ground, whileimperceptibly approaching Dona Clara.
The maiden, with her head buried in her hands, and her elbows supportedon her knees, was weeping silently. These tears broke Shaw's heart, andhe would have laid down his life to stop their flow.
In the meanwhile, the night grew more and more dark; the moon, veiled bythick clouds which passed incessantly over its pale disc, only castforth dim rays, too weak to pierce the dome of foliage under which thegambusinos had sought shelter. Shaw, reassured by the completeimmobility of his comrades and the mournful silence that brooded overthe clearing, ventured slightly to touch the young lady's arm.
"What do you want with me?" she asked in a mournful voice.
"Speak low," he replied; "in Heaven's name, speak low, senora, or one ofthe men lying there may overhear us. These villains have so fine an ear,that the slightest sighing of the wind through the leaves is sufficientto awake them and put them on their guard."
"Why should I care whether they awake?" she continued, reproachfully"Thanks to you, in whom I trusted, have I not fallen into their handsagain?"
"Oh!" he said, writhing his hands in despair, "you cannot believe mecapable of such odious treachery."
"Still, you see where we are."
"Alas! I am not to blame for it; fatality has done it all."
An incredulous smile hovered round the maiden's pallid lips.
"Have at least the courage to defend your bad deed, and confess you area bandit like the men sleeping there. Oh," she added, bitterly, "I haveno right to reproach you; on the contrary, I ought to admire you; forthough you are still very young, you have displayed, under presentcircumstances, a degree of skill and cunning I was far from suspectingin you: you have played your part with consummate talent."
Each of these cruel words entered the unhappy young man's heart like adagger, and made him endure atrocious torture.
"Yes," he said sadly, "appearances are against me; in vain should I tryto persuade you of my innocence, for you would not believe me; and yetHeaven is my witness that I attempted all it was humanly possible to do,in order to save you."
"You were very unfortunate then, sir," she continued sarcastically; "forit must be allowed that all these attempts of which you boast strangelyturned against you."
Shaw uttered a deep sigh.
"Good Heaven!" he said, "What proof can I give you of my devotion?"
"None," she replied coldly.
"Oh! madam."
"Sir," she interrupted him in a firm and ironical voice, "spare me, Ibeg of you, your lamentations, in whose sincerity I cannot believe, asthere are too many undeniable proofs against you; even more odious thantreachery are the hypocritical protestations of a traitor. You havesucceeded, so what more do you want? Enjoy your triumph. I repeat to youthat I do not reproach you, for you have acted as your instincts andtraining urged you to do; you have been true to yourself and faithful toyour antecedents: I need say no more. Now, if I may be allowed to ask afavour of you, let us break off a conversation no longer possessing anyinterest, as you will not succeed in destroying my impressions aboutyou: imitate the example of your comrades, and let me indulge in mygrief without any obstacle."
Shaw thunderstruck by these words, pronounced in a tone that admitted ofno reply; he saw the fearful position he was in, and a mad fury seizedon him. Dona Clara had left her head fall again in her hands and wasweeping: The young man felt a sob choking him.
"Oh!" he said, "What pleasure you take in torturing my heart. You say Ibetrayed you, I who loved you so!"
Dona Clara drew herself up, haughty and implacable.
"Yes," she answered ironically, "you love me, sir, but it is after thefashion of wild beasts, that carry off their prey to their den to rendit at their pleasure; yours is a tiger's love."
Shaw seized her arm violently, and looked firmly in her eyes.
"One word more, one insult further, madam," he gasped, "and I stabmyself at your feet: when you see my corpse writhing on the ground,possibly you may then believe in my innocence."
Dona Clara, surprised, gazed at him fixedly.
"What do I care?" she then said, coldly.
"Oh!" the young man exclaimed in his despair, "You shall be satisfied."
And with a movement rapid as thought, he drew his dagger. Suddenly ahand was roughly laid on his arm; but Dona Clara had not stirred.
Shaw turned round. Fray Ambrosio was standing behind him, smiling, butnot relaxing his grasp.
"Let me go," the young man said, in a hollow voice.
"Not so, my son," the monk said gently, "unless you first promise togive up your homicidal project."
"Do you not see," Shaw exclaimed passionately, "that she believes meguilty?"
"It must be so: leave it to me to persuade her of the contrary."
"Oh! if you did that?" the young man muttered, with an accent of doubt.
"I will do it, my son," Fray Ambrosio said, still smiling; "but you mustfirst be reasonable."
Shaw hesitated for a moment, then let fall the weapon, as he muttered--
"There will still be time."
"Excellently reasoned," said the monk. "Now, sit down, and let us talk.Trust to me: the senora ere long will not feel the slightest doubt aboutyour innocence."
During this scene Dona Clara had remained motionless as a statue ofgrief, apparently taking no interest in what passed between the two men.
"This young man has told you the perfect truth," he said; "it is ajustice I take pleasure in rendering him. I know not what cause urgedhim to act so, but, in order to save you, he achieved impossibilities;holding you in his arms, he fought with a cloud of redskins thirstingfor his blood. When Heaven sent us so miraculously to his assistance, hewas about to succumb, and he rolled unconscious under our horses' hoofs,still holding against his bleeding breast the precious burthen which haddoubtless been confided to him, and from which he had sworn only deathshould separate him. That is the real truth, madam: I swear it on myhonour."
Dona Clara smiled bitterly.
"Oh," she answered, "keep these deceitful and useless protestations toyourself, father; I have learned to know you too, thanks be to Heaven,for some time past, and am aware what faith can be placed in your word."
The monk bit his lips spitefully.
"Perhaps, you are mistaken, madam," he answered, with a humble bow, "andtoo readily put faith in false appearances."
"Very false, in truth," the girl exclaimed, "since your conduct, up tothis day, has only proved their correctness."
A flash shot from the monk's savage eye, which expired as soon as itburst forth; he composed his countenance, and continued with immoveablegentleness--
"You judge me wrongly too, senorita; misfortune renders you unjust. Youforget that I owe all to your father."
"It is not I, but you, who have forgotten it," she said, sharply.
"And who tells you, madam," he said, with a certain degree of animation,"that if I am in the ranks of your enemies, it is not to serve youbetter?"
"Oh!" she answered, ironically; "it would be difficult for you to supplyme with proofs of such admirable devotion."
"Not so much as you suppose; I have at this moment one at my service,which you cannot doubt."
"And that proof is?" she asked with a sneer.
"This, madam. My comrades are asleep; two horses have been tied up bymyself fifty paces from here in the forest; I will lead you to them, andguided by this unhappy young man, who is devoted to you, although youhave been cruel to him, after the perils to which he has exposed himselffor your sake--it will be easy for you to get out of our reach in a fewhours, and foil any pursuit. That is the proof, madam; can you now sayit is false?"
"And who will guarante
e me," she replied, "that this feigned solicitudeyou take in me, and which, I fancy, is very sudden, does not conceal anew snare?"
"Moments are precious," the monk said again, still imperturbable; "everysecond that slips away is a chance of safety you are deprived of. I willnot argue with you, but limit myself to saying--of what use would it beto me to pretend to let you escape?"
"How do I know? Can I guess the causes on which you act?"
"Very good, madam, do as you think proper; but Heaven is my witness thatI have done all in my power to save you, and that it was you whorefused."
The monk uttered these words with such an accent of conviction, that, inspite of herself, Dona Clara felt her suspicions shaken. Fray Ambrosio'slast observation was correct: why feign to let her escape, when he hadher in his power? She reflected for a moment.
"Listen," she said to him, "I have sacrificed my life; I know not if youare sincere; I should like to believe so; but as nothing can happen tome worse than what threatens me here, I confide in you; lead on,therefore, to the horses you have prepared for me, and I shall soon knowwhether your intentions are honest, and I have been deceived in myopinion of you."
A furtive smile lit up the monk's face, and he uttered a sigh ofsatisfaction.
"Come," he said, "follow me; but walk cautiously, so as not to arouse mycomrades, who are probably not so well disposed towards you as I am."
Dona Clara and Shaw rose and noiselessly followed the monk, thesquatter's son walking before the maiden and removing all the obstaclesto her passage. The darkness was thick, hence it was difficult to walkthrough the thickets, interlaced as they were with creepers andparasitical plants; Dona Clara stumbled at every step.
At the expiration of half an hour, they reached the skirt of the forest,where two horses, fastened to trees, were quietly nibbling the youngtree shoots.
"Well," the monk said, with a triumphant accent, "do you believe me now,senora?"
"I am not saved yet," she sadly answered; and she prepared to mount.Suddenly, the branches and shrubs were violently parted, six or eightmen rushed forward, and surrounded the three, ere it was possible forthem to attempt a defence. Shaw, however, drew a pistol, and prepared tosell his life dearly.
"Stop, Shaw," Dona Clara said to him, gently; "I now see that you werefaithful, and I pardon you. Do not let yourself be uselessly killed; yousee that it would be madness to resist!"
The young man let his head droop, and returned the pistol to his girdle.
"Hilloh!" a rough voice shouted, which caused the fugitives to tremble,"I felt sure that these horses belonged to somebody. Let us see what wehave here. A torch here, Orson, to have a look at them."
"It is unnecessary, Red Cedar, we are friends."
"Friends," Red Cedar answered, hesitating, for it was really he; "thatis possible; still, I would sooner be convinced of it. Light the torch,lad, all the same."
There was a moment's silence, during which Orson lit a branch of candlewood tree.
"Ah, ah," the squatter said, with a grin; "in truth, we are amongfriends. But where the deuce were you going at this hour of the night,senor Padre?"
"We were returning to the camp, after a ride, in which we have lost ourway," the monk answered, imperturbably.
Red Cedar gave him a suspicious glance.
"A ride!" he growled between his teeth; "It is a singular hour for that.But there is Shaw. You are welcome, my boy, though I little expected tomeet you, especially in the company of that charming dove," he added,with a sarcastic smile.
"Yes, it is I, father," the young man answered in a hollow voice.
"Very good; presently you shall tell me what has become of you for solong, but this is not the moment. Did you not say that your camp wasnear here, senor Padre? Although, may the devil twist my neck, if I canunderstand how that is, as I was going to seek you on the isle where Ileft you."
"We were compelled to leave it."
"All right; we have no time to lose in chattering. Lead me to the camp,my master; at a later date, all will be cleared up, never fear."
Guided by the monk, and followed by the pirates, who had Shaw and DonaClara in their midst, Red Cedar entered the forest. This unforeseenmeeting once again robbed the poor girl of a speedy deliverance. As forFray Ambrosio, he walked along apparently as calmly as if nothingextraordinary had happened to him.