CHAPTER XXX
ORMSGILL BEARS THE TEST
The black troops were coming home again when they halted at acoffee-planter's fazienda within easy march of the coast to allow therear guard to come up. They had met with no resistance since theycrossed the river. The rebels had melted away before them and vanishedinto the forests and marshes of the interior, and the troops hadpushed on into a waste and empty country finding only a few desertedvillages here and there. This was, however, very much what theirleader had expected, for he knew that in an affair of this kindeverything usually turns upon the first success, and he had made hisplans with that fact in view. Dom Clemente Figuera was, at least, acapable soldier.
The fazienda was old and somewhat ruinous. Its prosperity haddeparted, though plantations of coffee and cocoa still stretched aboutthe rambling white house and dusky laborers' sheds, and a littlecoarse sugar was made chiefly for the sake of the resultant rum. Cocoacould no longer be grown there by antiquated methods at a profit, andthere had of late been trouble about the labor supply. Standing whereit did within easy reach of the coast, the fazienda was open toinspection, and the rulers of that colony had of late been makinginquiries as to the way in which the legislation that permitted theplanters to engage the negroes brought down from the bush was carriedout. Indeed, its owners realized with concern that there was likely tobe a change in their ruler's views. Dom Clemente had, in fact, issuedone or two proclamations which filled them with alarm, for they knewthat what he said was usually done.
Still, during the few days the troops halted there the white plantershad many guests, men who had, for the most part, axes to grind. Theywished to discover how the changes Dom Clemente appeared to becontemplating might affect their trade, which like everything else inthat country depended upon the labor supply. Some of them wantedconcessions, and to be the first to benefit by any reprisals thatmight be made upon the rebels, and others had grievances against theinland officials whom they supposed Dom Clemente was not altogethersatisfied with. It was also, they felt, desirable to gain his ear, or,at least, those of his subordinates, before affairs were debatedofficially when he reached the coast, but perhaps, Dom Clemente wasaware of this, for he had most vexatiously remained behind, and thoseunder him had, it seemed, instructions to observe a judiciousreticence. In this case, at least, they also considered it advisableto carry their instructions out.
Ormsgill, however, knew very little about what was going on, and lateon the second afternoon after he reached the fazienda he satlistlessly in a half-ruinous shed which was partly filled with bagsof coarse sugar. The door was shut, and he fancied there was a sentryon guard outside it, but from where he sat he could look out throughan unglazed window across the tall green cane towards the wooded ridgethat shut the plantation in. It is also possible that he could havegot out that way and slipped into the cane without anybody noticinghim, for black sentries are not invariably watchful, but he had givenDom Clemente his parole, and he would have had to leave behind theboys he had brought down. Besides, he was utterly listless. He had forseveral months overtaxed his physical strength, and the fever of thecountry had rudely shaken him, and left behind it an apatheticlassitude, as it frequently does.
It was very hot in the shed which had lain since morning under ascorching sun, and the glare that still streamed in through the windowhurt his heavy eyes. He sat on an empty case, ragged andtravel-stained, brooding heavily while the perspiration trickled fromhis worn face. Nothing seemed to matter, and it would have affordedhim little pleasure had he been offered his liberty. He would, heknew, leave all he valued behind him when he left that country, andworn out in body as he was, and enervated in will, he shrank from theduty that awaited him, for if he ever reached Las Palmas, which seemedsomewhat doubtful, Mrs. Ratcliffe would certainly expect him to carryout his promise. He was in one way sorry for Ada Ratcliffe, but hefancied that she would, after all, probably be satisfied with thethings he could offer her. Since that was the case, and she had keptfaith with him, it was evident that he could not draw back now.Perhaps he was foolish, but he was one who kept his word, and at leastendeavored to live up to his severely simple code.
At last the glare outside the window commenced to die away, and hecould see an odd palm tuft cut with a restful greenness against thepaling sky. It was very hot still, but evening was at hand and by andby one of the younger lieutenants who had shown him some kindness onthe march would probably come in and talk to him. He fancied he heardthe man's footsteps when another half hour had slipped away, and thenhis voice rose sharply as he said something to the black sentry, buthe did not come in, and Ormsgill rose with every nerve quivering whenhe heard another voice he recognized. Still, he contrived to lay arestraint upon himself when the door opened and Benicia Figuera stoodin the entrance.
She was clad in thin draperies that gleamed immaculately white, andthe fine lines of the figure they flowed about were silhouettedsharply against the light. Her face was in shadow, but Ormsgill sawthe sudden compassion in her eyes, and the blood crept to hisforehead. Then she turned for a moment towards the portly, black-robedlady who appeared behind her, and apparently addressed the invisiblelieutenant.
"It is very hot here, and I think the Senora Castro would find it morecomfortable if you brought her a chair outside," she said. "You canleave the door open. It is scarcely likely that I shall run away withyour prisoner."
The man outside apparently made no demur and when the portly ladydisappeared Benicia turned towards Ormsgill.
"Now we can talk," she said. "You are looking very ill."
Ormsgill drew forward the empty case, and laid some matting on it. "Aprisoner's quarters are not usually very sumptuous, and that is theonly seat I can offer you," he said. "I was a little astonished when Isaw you."
Benicia sat down, and smiled when he found a place among the sugarbags.
"Astonished--that was all?" she said.
The man felt his forehead grow warm, but he laughed. "Well," he said,"I'm not sure that quite expresses everything. Still, I certainly wasastonished. I wonder if one could ask what brought you here?"
"I came to meet my father--for one thing," and the little pause mighthave had its significance, though Benicia who unrolled her fan washandicapped by the fact that she was speaking English and had tochoose her words carefully. "I am told that he is expected here sometime to-night--but you are ill. It is needless to say--is itnot?--that I am sorry."
She looked sorry. In fact, her manner was exquisitely expressive ofsympathy, but Ormsgill contrived to answer lightly.
"The thing is not altogether unnatural," he said. "A good many of yourfather's troops are sick, too. After all, there are worse troublesthan a slight attack of African fever, and I shall no doubt get wellagain presently."
"And you are still--a very little--lame."
It did not strike Ormsgill as significant that she should have noticedthis, though he had only moved a pace or two when she came in. Indeed,nothing of that kind would have occurred to him then, for while hisblood stirred within him he was struggling fiercely to retain hisself-control.
"It is possible that I shall always be a little lame," he said, andlaughed somewhat bitterly. "Still, I'm not sure that it matters. Yousee, I don't even know what will be done with me when we reach thecoast."
"You have certainly enemies there--as well as friends. There aregentlemen of some influence who had an interest in Herrero's business,and it seems they have made rather serious complaints against you. Itis even suggested that you brought about his death. We, of course,know that such complaints are absurd."
"I wonder why?"
Benicia leaned forward a little with her eyes fixed on him. "It isonly strangers one wastes compliments upon," she said. "I think youand I are friends."
She had, it seemed to Ormsgill, not gone far enough, and there was anelusive something in her manner which conveyed the impression that sherealized it. He felt his heart beat unpleasantly fast, but hecontrolled himself, and while he sat s
ilent Benicia's fan closed witha curious little snap. One could have fancied that she had expectedhim to speak.
"Still," she said, "there are others who might believe thosecomplaints, and--though you have friends--justice is not alwayscertain in this country. Are you wise in staying here?"
"I'm not sure that I can help it. You see there is a sentry yonder."
Benicia laughed a little. "Pshaw!" she said, "that could be arrangedwithout any great difficulty. One could require, perhaps, two minutesto slip away into the cane, and I think nothing would be discovereduntil the morning."
"On the contrary, there are several difficulties. For instance, itwould probably become evident that the thing had been--arranged. CouldI allow you to involve yourself in an affair of that kind?"
"It is by no means certain that I should involve myself. In fact, itis most unlikely," and Benicia laughed again, though she fixed hereyes on him with a curious intentness. "Is it not worth the hazard,Senor, if it set you at liberty to go back to--Las Palmas?"
"No," said Ormsgill with sudden vehemence, while the veins showedswollen on his forehead. "It certainly isn't."
A little gleam of exultation sprang into the girl's eyes, for sherecognized the thrill of passion in his voice, and she already knew itwas not the woman who awaited him at Las Palmas that he loved. Still,it was, perhaps, fortunate he had answered her in that decisivefashion, for the Latin nature is curiously complex and always a trifleunstable. Though she could not have told exactly why she had led himon, it is just possible that had he shown any eagerness to profit bythe suggestion she had made her tenderness would have changed tovindictive anger. That she would be willing to restore him to theother woman at her peril was, after all, rather more than one couldreasonably have expected from her. Benicia Figuera was in severalrespects very human.
"Ah," she said, with a curious slow incisiveness, "then you are not sovery anxious to go back--to her?"
Ormsgill sat still for almost a minute with set lips while theperspiration dewed his lined face. He read what the girl thought inher eyes, and his passion came near shaking the resolution he stroveto cling to out of him. Ada Ratcliffe, who did not love him, was faraway, and this girl who he felt would, as Desmond had said, stand bythe man she loved through everything, sat within a yard of him. Heseemed to realize that if he flung aside every consideration thatrestrained him and boldly claimed her she would listen. Her merephysical beauty had also an almost overwhelming effect on him, and thetinge of color in her cheeks and the softness in her eyes was verysuggestive. Then with a little strenuous effort he straightenedhimself.
"After all," he said, "that is scarcely the question?"
"Still," the girl insisted, "I have offered you liberty, and you donot seem to want it. Since that is so, one could almost fancy it wouldnot grieve you very much if you never went back."
Ormsgill stood up. "Senorita, that is a thing I can not very wellanswer you. Besides, it does not seem to count. You see, I havepledged myself to go."
"Ah," said the girl, and, though this was no news to her, her fansnapped to again. "Would nothing warrant one breaking such a pledge?"
Then for a few seconds they looked at one another with no disguisebetween them, and all their thoughts in their eyes. The girl's facewas white and intent, the man's drawn and furrowed, and the passionthat was fast overmastering all restraint was awake in both alike. Itis more than likely that Benicia did not remember that her companionhad borne as heavy a stress once before at least. When she came in shehad no intention of subjecting him to it again. She had possibly onlymeant to do him a kindness, perhaps merely wished to see him, thoughthis was a point on which she was never sure; but the fiery Latinnature had been too strong for her. Restraint is, after all, not acharacteristic of the people of the South. At length Ormsgill made aneffort.
"The thing would be impossible," he said. "I am guarded. There is asentry at the door."
The girl saw that his control was slackening, for she knew it was notthe pledge she had mentioned but the hazard she would run in settinghim at liberty he was referring to, and she laughed, almostexultantly.
"No," she said, "it would be so easy. The sentry is called away for afew minutes. As I said--it could be arranged. Then you slip away intothe cane. It is not difficult to reach the city--and you have friendsthere."
She broke off abruptly, but Ormsgill saw that she had flung her prideaway, and, since it was clear that it was not that he might go back toLas Palmas she was willing to connive at his escape, he felt it onlyremained for him to supply what she had left unsaid. The desire to doso shook him until he closed one hand in an intensity of effort, andfor almost half a minute there was a silence that grew almostintolerable.
Then the girl slowly straightened herself, and her eyes gleamedcuriously, though her face was very pale.
"The hazard appears too great for you, Senor?" she said.
"Yes," said Ormsgill quietly, noticing the sudden change in herattitude, "in one way it does." Then he made a little abrupt gesture."As I said, I am pledged to go back to Las Palmas if I am set atliberty--but it is a matter in which I can not permit you to doanything for me."
Benicia stood up very straight, and her eyes had still a curious gleamin them. "Then there is nothing more to be said. It seems you will notlisten to any suggestion I can make--and, perhaps, you are right."
She spread out her hands in a vaguely forceful fashion as she turnedfrom him and moved towards the door, but before she reached it shestopped and glanced at him again. Ormsgill who set his lips tight saidnothing at all. Then there was a sound of footsteps outside, and DomClemente, who appeared in the entrance, stood still looking at themcuriously. It was a moment or two before he turned to Benicia.
"Ah," he said, "I did not know you were here until a few minutes agoand I will not keep you now. I think the Senora is waiting for you."
He stood aside when she swept past him and vanished with a rustle offilmy draperies. Then he turned to Ormsgill.
"Senor," he said, "I am inclined to fancy that you have something tosay to me."
The blood rose to Ormsgill's face, and his voice was strained. It wasan almost intolerable duty that was laid upon him.
"I am afraid your surmise is not correct," he said. "I have nothing tosay."
Dom Clemente let one hand drop on the hilt of his sword. "Senor," hesaid, "I am informed by my Secretary that the Senorita Benicia Figuerahas obtained certain concessions concerning you from a man whoseauthority we submit to. You are, it seems, to be treated with everyconsideration, and he will investigate the complaints made against youpersonally. That," and he made a little impressive gesture, "isevidently the result of the Senorita Benicia's efforts on your behalf.I am here to ask you why she has made them?"
Ormsgill looked at him steadily, though it cost him an effort toanswer.
"I have the honor of the Senorita's acquaintance," he said. "It seemsshe is one who does what she can for her friends. I can offer no otherexplanation."
"Ah," said Dom Clemente with incisive quietness, "I once informed youthat it seemed to me you were doing a perilous thing in going back toAfrica. It is possible you will shortly realize that what I said waswarranted."
Then he turned and went out, and Ormsgill sat down again with a littlegasp, for the tension of the last few minutes had been almostinsupportable.