CHAPTER NINETEEN.
IN WHICH, AMONG OTHER THINGS, LAWRENCE REFUSES AN INVITATION, AND BIDS AFINAL FAREWELL TO MANUELA.
A jump of several hundreds of miles at one mighty bound may seemdifficult, perhaps impossible, but if the reader will kindly put on thegrasshopper legs of imagination which we now provide, such a jump willbe found not only possible, but, perchance, agreeable.
We pass at one fell spring, then, from the thick forests of Bolivia tothe wide rolling pampas, or plains, of South America.
You are still within sight of the Andes, good reader. You may travelfrom north to south if you will--from the equatorial regions of theMexican Gulf to the cold and stormy cape at Tierra del Fuego--withoutlosing sight of that magnificent backbone of the grand continent.
We have reached a frontier town which lies among the undulating hills atthe base of the mountains, yet within sight of the outskirts of thegrassy pampas. A small town it is, with little white houses and achurch glittering in the sunshine. A busy town, too, with a mixedpopulation fluttering in the streets in the variegated trappings andplumage of merchants, and priests, and muleteers, and adventurers, anddark-eyed senhoras, enveloped in all the mysterious witchery that seemsinseparable from Spanish mantillas and fans.
It was evening when our travellers arrived at the town. They were onhorseback now, having, a considerable time previously, forsaken therivers for the roads--if we may call by such a name those unmadehighways which are merely marked out through the wilderness by thepassage of men. Bells were ringing in the steeple as they entered thetown, for some fete or holiday was in process of celebration, and thepresence of a considerable number of men in uniform gave to the placethe appearance of a garrison town.
There were so many odd-looking and striking characters in the streetsthat the arrival of our party made no particular impression on thepeople, save that Manuela's elegant little figure and pretty brown facedrew some attention--admiration on the part of the men, scorn on that ofa few--a very few--of the senhoras. You see, in all parts of the worldsome people are found who seem to hold, (though they would find itdifficult to say why), that God's creatures with brown and black skinsought to be looked down upon and held in contempt by His creatures whochance to have white skins! You will generally find that the people whothink thus also hold the almost miraculous opinion that those who wearsuperfine clothing, and possess much money, have a sort of indefinable,but unquestionable, right to look down upon and lord it over those whoown little money and wear coarse garments!
You will carefully observe, unprejudiced reader, that we use the word"some" in speaking of those people. We are very far from pitting thepoor against the rich. We are bound to recognise the fact that amongstboth classes there are gems of brightest lustre, irradiated by rays fromthe celestial sun, while in both there are also found qualities worthyof condemnation. But when we record the fact that some of the whitesenhoras looked with jealousy and scorn upon our sweet little Indianheroine, we ought to recognise the undeniable truth that theythemselves, (so long as actuated by such a spirit), were beneathcontempt--fit subjects only for pity.
As they passed along, much interested and somewhat excited by thecomparatively novel sights around them, Pedro rode up to a mountedsoldier and accosted him in Spanish.
He returned to his party with a gleam of stronger excitement in his eyesthan Lawrence had observed since they became acquainted. Ridingalongside of Manuela, who was in advance, he entered into earnest andanimated conversation with her. Then, reining back until he was abreastof Lawrence, he said--
"Part of the object of my journey has been accomplished sooner than Ihad expected, Senhor Armstrong."
"Indeed? I hope it has been satisfactorily accomplished."
"Well, yes, as far as it goes. The fact is, I find that there has beena raid of the Indians into this part of the country, and a body oftroops has been sent to quell them under Colonel Marchbanks. Now thiscolonel, as his name will suggest, is an Englishman, in the service ofthe Argentine army, under whose orders I have been serving, and tocommunicate with whom was one of my chief reasons for undertaking thisjourney."
"Will that, then, render your journey to Buenos Ayres unnecessary?"asked Lawrence, a slight feeling of anxiety creeping over him.
"No, it won't do that, but it will greatly modify my plans. Among otherthings, it will oblige me to leave Manuela behind and push on alone asfast as possible. I suppose you will have no objection to a tearinggallop of several hundred miles over the Pampas?" said Pedro, while asmile of peculiar meaning played for an instant on his handsome face.
"Objections!" exclaimed our hero, with great energy, "of course not. Atearing gallop over the Pampas is--a--most--"
He stopped, for a strange, unaccountable feeling of dissatisfactionwhich he could not understand began to overwhelm him. Was it that hewas really in love after all with this Indian girl, and that the thoughtof final separation from her--impossible! No, he could not credit suchan idea for a moment. But he loved her spirit--her soul, as it were--and he could not be blamed for being so sorry, so very sorry, to partwith _that_ thus suddenly--thus unexpectedly. Yes, he was _not_ inlove. It was a fraternal or paternal--a Platonic feeling of a strongtype. He would just see her once more, alone, before starting, saygood-bye, and give her a little, as it were, paternal, or fraternal, orPlatonic advice.
"Senhor Armstrong is in a meditative mood," said Pedro, breaking thethread of his meditations.
"Yes, I was thinking--was wondering--that is--by the way, with whom willyou leave Manuela?"
"With a friend who lives in a villa in the suburbs."
"You seem to have friends wherever you go," said Lawrence.
"Ay, and enemies too," returned Pedro with a slight frown. "However,with God's blessing, I shall circumvent the latter."
"When do you start?" asked Lawrence, with an air of assumedindifference.
"To-morrow or next day, perhaps, but I cannot tell until I meet ColonelMarchbanks. I am not, indeed, under his command--being what you maycall a sort of freelance--but I work with him chiefly, that is, underhis directions, for he and I hold much the same ideas in regard to mostthings, and have a common desire to see something like solid peace inthe land. Look, do you see that villa with the rustic porch on thecliff; just beyond the town?"
"Yes--it is so conspicuous and so beautifully situated that one cannothelp seeing and admiring it."
"That is where the friend lives with whom I shall leave Manuela."
"Indeed," said Lawrence, whose interest in the villa with the rusticporch was suddenly intensified, "and shall we find her there on ourreturn?"
"I was not aware that Senhor Armstrong intended to return!" said Pedro,with a look of surprise.
Lawrence felt somewhat confused and taken aback, but his countenance wasnot prone to betray him.
"Of course I mean, will _you_ find her there when you return? Though,as to my returning, the thing is not impossible, when one considers thatthe wreck of part of my father's property lies on the western side ofthe Andes."
"Ah! true. I forgot that for a moment. Well, I suppose she will remainhere till my return," said Pedro, "unless the Indians make a successfulraid and carry her off in the meantime!" he added, with a quick glanceat his companion.
"And are we to stay to-night at the same villa?"
"No, we shall stay at the inn to which we are now drawing near. I amtold that the Colonel has his headquarters there."
The conversation closed abruptly at this point, for they had reached theinn referred to. At the door stood a tall, good-looking young man,whose shaven chin, cut of whisker, and Tweed shooting costume, betokenedhim an Englishman of the sporting class.
Addressing himself to this gentleman with a polite bow, Pedro askedwhether Colonel Marchbanks was staying there.
"Well--aw--I'm not quite sure, but there is--aw--I believe, a militaryman of--aw--some sort staying in the place."
Without meaning to be idiotic, this sp
orting character was one of thoserich, plucky, languid, drawly-wauly men, who regard the world as theirspecial hunting-field, affect free-and-easy nonchalance, and interlardtheir ideas with "aw" to an extent that is absolutely awful.
The same question, put to a waiter who immediately appeared, elicitedthe fact that the Colonel did reside there, but was absent at themoment.
"Well, then," said Pedro, turning quickly to Lawrence, "you had betterlook after rooms and order supper, while I take Manuela to the villa."
For the first time since they met, Lawrence felt inclined to disobey hisfriend. A gush of indignation seemed to surge through his bosom for amoment, but before he could reply, Pedro, who did not expect a reply,had turned away. He remounted his steed and rode off, meekly followedby the Indian girl. Quashy took the bridles of his own and his master'shorse, and stood awaiting orders; while Spotted Tiger, who was notaltogether inexperienced in the ways of towns, led his animal and thebaggage-mules round to the stables.
"So," thought Lawrence, bitterly, "I am ordered to look after thingshere, and Manuela goes quietly away without offering to say good-bye--without even a friendly nod, although she probably knows I may have tostart by daybreak to-morrow, and shall never see her again. Bah! whatelse could I expect from a squaw--a black girl! But no matter. It'sall over! It was _only_ her spirit I admired, and I don't care even forthat now."
It will be observed that our poor hero did not speak like himself here,so grievous was the effect of his disappointment. Fortunately he didnot speak at all, but only muttered and looked savage, to the amusementof the sportsman, who stood leaning against the door-post of the inn,regarding him with much interest.
"Will you sup, senhor?" asked a waiter, coming up just then.
"Eh! no--that is--yes," replied Lawrence, savagely.
"How many, senhor?"
"How many? eh! How should I know? As many as you like. Come here."
He thundered off along a passage, clanking his heels and spurs like awhole regiment of dragoons, and without an idea as to whither thepassage led or what he meant to do.
"Aw--quite a wemarkable cweature. A sort of--aw--long-legged curiosityof the Andes. Mad, I suppose, or drunk."
These remarks were partly a soliloquy, partly addressed to a friend whohad joined the sportsman, but they were overheard by Quashy, who, withthe fire of a free negro and the enthusiasm of a faithful servant,said--
"No more mad or drunk dan you'self--you whitefaced racoon!"
Being unable conveniently to commit an assault at the moment, our freenegro contented himself with making a stupendous face at the Englishman,and glaring defiance as he led the cattle away. As the reader knows,that must have been a powerful glare, but its only effect on thesportsman was to produce a beaming smile of Anglo-Saxon good-will.
That night Lawrence Armstrong slept little. Next morning he found thatPedro had to delay a day in order to have some further intercourse withColonel Marchbanks. Having nothing particular to do, and being stillvery unhappy--though his temper had quite recovered--he resolved to takea stroll alone. Just as he left the inn, a tall, powerfully-built,soldierly man entered, and bestowed on him a quick, stern glance inpassing. He seemed to be between fifty and sixty, straight as a poplar,and without any sign of abated strength, though his moustache andwhiskers were nearly white.
Lawrence would have at once recognised a countryman in this old officer,even if the waiter had not addressed him by name as he presented himwith a note.
At any other time the sociable instincts of our hero would have led himto seek the acquaintance both of the Colonel and the awful sportsman;but he felt misanthropical just then, and passed on in silence.
Before he had been gone five minutes, Quashy came running after him.
"You no want _me_, massa?"
"No, Quash, I don't."
"P'r'aps," suggested the faithful man, with an excess of modesty andsome hesitation,--"P'r'aps you'd like me to go wid you for--for--company?"
"You're very kind, Quash, and I should like to have you very muchindeed; but at present I'm very much out of sorts, and--"
"O massa!" interrupted the negro, assuming the sympathetic gazeinstantly, and speaking with intense feeling, "it's not in de stummik,am it?" He placed his hand gently on the region referred to.
"No, Quash," Lawrence replied, with a laugh, "it is not the body at allthat affects me; it is the mind."
"Oh! is dat all?" said the negro, quite relieved. "Den you not need toboder you'self. Nobody ebber troubled long wid dat complaint. Do youknow, massa, dat de bery best t'ing for dat is a little cheerful s'iety.I t'ink you'll be de better ob me."
He said this with such self-satisfied gravity, and withal seemed to havemade up his mind so thoroughly to accompany his young master, thatLawrence gave in, and they had not gone far when he began really to feelthe benefit of Quashy's light talk. We do not mean to inflict it all onthe reader, but a few sentences may, perhaps, be advantageous to thedevelopment of our tale.
"Splendid place dis, massa," observed the negro, after they had walkedand chatted some distance beyond the town.
"Yes, Quash,--very beautiful."
"Lots ob nice shady trees an' bushes, and flowers, an' fruits, an' sweetsmells ob oranges, an'--"
He waved his arms around, as if to indicate a profusion of delightswhich his tongue could not adequately describe.
"Quite true, Quash," replied Lawrence, who was content to play secondviolin in the duet.
"Is you gwine," inquired Quashy, after a brief pause, "to de gubner'sball to-night?"
"No. I did not know there was a governor, or that he intended to give aball."
The negro opened his eyes in astonishment.
"You not know ob it!" he exclaimed; "why eberybody knows ob it, an'a'most eberybody's agwine--all de 'spectable peepil, I mean, an' some obdem what's not zactly as 'spectable as dey should be. But dey's allagwine. He's a liberal gubner, you see, an' he's gwine to gib de ballin de inn at de lan'lord's expense."
"Indeed; that's a curiously liberal arrangement."
"Yes, an' a bery clebber 'rangement for de lan'lord. He's a cute man delan'lord. I s'pose you's agwine?"
"_No_, I am not going. I have received no invitation; besides, I haveno evening dress."
"Bless you, massa, you don't need no invitation, nor evenin' dressneeder! You just go as you are, an' it's all right."
"But I have no wish to go. I would rather prepare for an early startto-morrow."
"Das a prutty house we's a-comin' to, massa," said Quashy, not hearing,or ignoring, the last remark.
Lawrence looked up with a start. Unwittingly, quite unwittingly, he hadrambled in the direction of the villa with the rustic porch!
"An' dere's de missis ob de villa, I suppose," said Quashy. "No, she'son'y a redskin. Why, massa!" he continued, opening his eyes to theirwidest, "it's Manuela--or her ghost!"
It was indeed our little Indian heroine, walking alone in the shrubbery.She had not observed her late companions, who were partly concealed bybushes.
"Quashy," said Lawrence, impressively, laying his hand on the negro'sshoulder, "get out of the way. I want to speak to her alone,--to saygood-bye, you know, for we start early to-morrow."
The negro promptly threw himself on the ground and nodded his head.
"You go ahead, massa. All right. When you comes dis way agin, you'llfind dis nigger am vanisht like a wreaf ob smoke."
A few seconds more, and Lawrence suddenly appeared before Manuela. Shemet him without surprise, but with an embarrassed look. Instantly adark chilling cloud seemed to settle down on the poor youth's spirit.Mingled with a host of other indescribable feelings, there was one, verystrong, of indignation; but with a violent effort he controlled hisfeatures, so as to indicate no feeling at all.
"This is an unexpected meeting, Manuela. I had hardly hoped for it, aswe set off very early to-morrow; but I'm glad we have met, for I shouldnever have got over the feeling that I had be
en unkind in going offwithout saying good-bye. Do you make out what I mean? I think youunderstand English better than my bad Spanish."
"Yes--I understan'. I very sorry we part. Very, _very_ sorry.Good-bye."
She put out her hand, and Lawrence mechanically took it. There wassomething so ridiculous in this prompt and cool way of parting, afterhaving been so long together, that the youth could scarcely believe hewas awake. Had this pretty little Inca princess, then, no feelingwhatever--no touch of common tenderness, like other girls? Did thewell-known stoicism of her race require that she should part for thelast time from the man who had twice saved her life, with a simple "I'mvery sorry. Good-bye?"
He felt cured now, completely. Such a _spirit_, he thought, could notcommand esteem, much less affection. As neither body nor spirit was nowleft to him, he began to feel quite easy in his mind--almost desperatelyeasy--and that paternal, fraternal Platonic interest in the child whichwe have before mentioned began to revive.
"Well, Manuela," he said at last, with a stupendous sigh, as though hewere heaving the entire Andes off his rugged old shoulders, yet with abrotherly smile as he patted the little brown hand, "you and I have hadpleasant times together. I could have wished--oh! how I--well, hem! butno matter. You will soon, no doubt be among your own people again. AllI would ask of you is sometimes, when far-away, to think of me; to thinkof me as perhaps, the presumptuous young fellow who did his best to makea long and rather trying journey agreeable to you. Think of me,Manuela, as a father, and I will think of you as my little Indian girl!"
"I will fink," she said, dropping her grave eyes on the ground, and thestoicism of all the Incas seemed to be concentrated in her look andbearing at that moment, "t'ink of you as a fadder."
"Good-bye," he said again.
"Good-bye," she replied.
He had intended to print a fatherly kiss on the little brown hand, butthis parting was too much. He dropped her hand, and, turning abruptlyaway with a final "Farewell--God bless you," quickly left the spot, in asort of bewildered amazement that a heartless Indian girl should everhave been able to obtain, even for a time, so powerful an influence overhim.