CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
A RUDE INTERRUPTION.
"Otra cosa de Mexico!"
Another strange occurrence of Mexico; if not the most incomprehensible,certainly the most painful, that had yet come under my cognisance: forit related to myself--the black, bitter part of it.
Words will not convey the state of my mind, as I stood regarding thegroup inside. I could not move--either to advance, or go back. I couldscarce get breath. My heart felt as if compressed under a heavy weight,never more to be removed. It was undergoing its maximum of misery.
My feelings can only be understood by one, who has had the misfortune topass through a like ordeal. He who has bestowed his affections uponsome high-born beauty may feel chagrin, on discovering that they are notreturned. It will be deepened by the knowledge, that another has wonthe wished-for prize. Still is there solace, however slight, in thereflection: that the preference has been given to one worthy, whosefortune has been more favourable.
When otherwise--when the preferred rival is worthless, socially ormorally, then is the humiliation complete--overwhelming. It isself-love stung to the quick.
Such a humiliation was I called upon to suffer.
With all my pretensions of pride--a conceit in the possession of certainsuperiorities, mental as well as physical; courage, talent, strength,activity; a position not humble; a reputation each day increasing; with,and in spite of all these, I saw that my suit had been slighted, and thefavour I coveted more than aught upon earth, bestowed upon another.
And who that other? A _bandolero_! A robber!
It was the very wantonness of woe that swept over my heart, whelming itwith terrible desolation!
I stood like a stranded ship with the huge seas breaking over her.Waves of passion rushed impetuously through my breast, black as thebillows of the storm-contorted ocean.
The spectacle, while stirring me to anger, at the same time kept mefixed to the spot. I made no movement--either forward or backward. Ifelt paralysed with a passion, such as I hope I may never feel again.The world seemed full of woe!
For a time I was unable to reflect. My thoughts were but instincts, nowwoeful, now wicked--now despairing, now tending to resolves.
One a little nobler at length took possession of me. My own fate wassealed; but not that of Dolores Villa-Senor--which to me seemed equallydark, and drear. Was it possible to save her?
I had not heard those mystic words that rivet the golden chain ofwedlock, "With this ring I thee wed." The shining symbol had not yetappeared upon her finger.
There was still time to interrupt the ceremony. A single breath intothe silver tube, that hung suspended over my breast, would stay it; and,before it could be resumed, the green jackets would be around me.
It was no thought of danger that withheld me from sounding that signal.I was too unhappy to have a feeling of fear; too reckless to care astraw for any consequences to myself. At that moment I could haverushed into the presence of the bridal group, and defied one and all tothe death!
It was neither caution, nor a craven spirit, that restrained me; but aninstinct more ignoble than either--an instinct of revenge.
Dolores had adopted her destiny. However dark it might prove, it wasnot for me to attempt turning it aside. She would not thank me forsaving her. Sweeter would be my triumph to show her the man she hadchosen for husband, in my power--a scorned captive at my feet.
So ran my ungenerous reflections.
"Let the marriage go on!" I muttered to him by my side. "She shall bewed, and--widowed!"
In all my life I never felt so spitefully cruel--so desirous ofretaliation. Every spark of chivalric thought had departed from mysoul.
The imperturbable Yankee made no reply. The scene inside seemed to beabsorbing all his attention--as it was my own. Far different hisinterpretation of it. With him it was simple conjecture. He littlesuspected the knowledge I possessed, or the dread interest stirringwithin me.
We remained in the maguey, to await the conclusion of the ceremony.
We saw the ring glancing between the fingers of the bridegroom. But itcame not in contact with those of the bride. Before that criticalmoment arrived, a change--quick as the transformation in a pantomime--terrible as the passage from calm to tropic storm--from life to death--went sweeping over the scene!
A phalanx of dark forms rushed past the spot where we were crouching.They were human--but so silent in their movements--so weird-like underthe wan light--as to appear spectral!
They could not be phantoms. One or two of them touched the tips of theplant in passing, causing its elastic blades to rebound backwards. Theywere forms of flesh, blood, and humanity; animated by the spirit offiends--as in another instant they proved themselves.
We saw them by a rapid rush precipitate themselves into the opendoorway--a few scattering along the facade, and taking stand by thewindows.
We saw the glittering of armour. We saw spears and _machetes_ thrustthrough the iron bars. We heard the cocking of carbines, and the rudesummons to surrender--followed by menaces of murder!
There was a short scuffle in the _saguan_, and the courtyard behind it;and then there were death groans, proceeding from the domestics, whofell stabbed upon the stones!
The two apartments appeared to be simultaneously entered. Dark shadowyforms flitted through the dining-room; but in the other the shadows weredarker.
There was a rushing to and fro--a changing of places--not as in akaleidoscope, but in crowded confusion. There was screaming of women--shouting of men--threats and curses--followed by pistol reports; and,what made the _fracas_ still more infernal, an occasional peal ofdiabolical laughter!
Only for a short while did this continue; so short, that I scarcebelieved in its reality till it was all over!
Almost at its commencement the lights in both rooms had beenextinguished; but whether by chance, or design, it was impossible for usto tell.
What occurred afterwards we knew only by hearing, or from glimpsesafforded by the occasional flashing of firearms.
Though there was loud talking all the while that the strife continued--with exclamations, every other one an oath--we heard nothing to give aclue to it.
Nor did we find any explanation in what followed. We could only tell,that the conflict had come to an end; that it was succeeded by theshuffling of footsteps across the paved _patio_, gradually retiring tothe rear, and at length heard ascending the precipitous pine-coveredslope that soared darkly above the dwelling!
As they rose higher, they grew fainter; until the only soundsdistinguishable were the moanings of the Mexican owl, the hissing of thecascade below, and the sighing of the mountain breeze among the tops ofthe tall pine-trees.