Don Gil Silencio and the Se?ora sat within the shady corner of the veranda. In front of the Se?ora stood a small wicker table. Upon the table was an old silver teapot, battered in the side, whose lid had difficulty in shutting. This relic of the past had been brought from England by the old Se?ora when she returned from the refuge she had obtained there, in one of her periodical escapes from old Don Oviedo. The old Se?ora had brought back with her the fashion of afternoon tea; also some of the leaves from which that decoction is made. The teapot, as well as the traditionary fashion of tea at five o'clock, had been left as legacies to her grandson, but of the good English tea there remained not the smallest grain of dust. The old Se?ora had been prodigal of her tea. She had on great occasions used more than a saltspoonful of the precious leaves at a drawing, and every one knows that at that rate even two pounds of tea will not last forever.
They had been married now for two weeks, the Se?or Don Gil and the Se?ora, and for the first[Pg 225] time in her young life the Se?ora was happy. Sad to have reached the age of seventeen and not to have passed one happy day, hardly a happy hour! Now the girl was like a bird let loose, but the Se?or, for a bridegroom, seemed somewhat distrait and dejected. As he sipped his weak decoction he often raised his eyes to the wooded heights beyond which Troja lay.
"What is the matter, Gil? Is not the tea good?"
"As good as the hay from the old potrera, dear Heart. And cold? One would imagine that we possessed our own ice-machine."
The Se?ora looked at Don Gil questioningly. His face was serious. She smiled. These were virtues, then! The Se?ora did not know much about the English decoction.
"Be careful, Raquel. That aged lizard will fall into the teapot else; he might get a chill. Chills are fatal to lizards." Don Gil was smiling now.
Raquel closed the lid with a loud bang. The lizard scampered up the allemanda vine, where it hid behind one of the yellow velvet flowers.
"But you seem so absent in mind, Gil. What is it all about? You look so often up the broad camino. Do you expect any—any one—Gil?"
Don Gil dropped over his eyes those long and purling lashes which, since his adolescence, had[Pg 226] been the pride and despair of every belle within the radius of twenty miles.
"You do expect some one, Gil; no welcome guest. That I can see. Oh! Gil. It is my un—it is Escobeda whom you expect."
Don Gil did not look up.
"I think it is quite likely that he will come," he said. "I may as well tell you, Raquel; the steamer arrived this morning. He must have waited there over a steamer." Had Silencio voiced his conviction, he would have added, "Escobeda's vengeance may be slow, but it is sure as well."
The Se?ora's face was colourless, her frightened eyes were raised anxiously to his. Her lips hardly formed the word that told him of her fear.
"When?" she asked.
"Any day now. But do not look so worried, dear Heart. I think that we need not fear Escobeda."
"But he will kill us, Gil. He will burn the casa."
"No. He might try to crush some poor and defenceless peon, but hardly the owner of Palmacristi. Still, all things are possible, all cruelties and barbarities, with a man like Escobeda. His followers are a lawless set of rascals."
"And he will dare to attack us here, in our home?"
[Pg 227]
The Se?ora's hands trembled as she moved the cups here and there upon the table.
"An Englishman says, 'My house is my castle.' If I cannot say that; I can say, 'My house is my fort.' I will try to show you that it is, when the time comes, but look up! Raquel. Smile! dear one. I know that my wife is not a coward."
With an assumption of carelessness, the Se?ora took a lump of sugar from the bowl and held it out to the penitent lizard. It came haltingly down the stem of the vine, stretching out its pointed nose to see what new and unaccustomed dainties were to be offered it.
"He has sent you a message, Gil?"
"Who, Escobeda? Yes, child. He sent me a letter under a flag of truce, as it were. The letter was written at the government town."
"And he sent it—"
"Back by the last steamer, Raquel. His people are not allowed to enter our home enclosure, as you know. I allowed one of the peons to take the letter. He brought it to the trocha. Any one can come there. It is public land."
Raquel dropped the sugar; it rolled away.
"Gil, Gil!" she said, "you terrify me. What shall we do?" She arose and went close to him and laid her hands upon his shoulders. "Escobeda! with his cruel ways, and more cruel followers—"
[Pg 228]
"He is Spanish."
"So are we, Gil, we are Spanish, too."
"Yes, child, with the leaven of the west intermingled in our veins, its customs, and its manners."
"Gil, dearest, I can never tell you what I suffered in that house. What fear! What overpowering dread! Whenever one of those lawless men so much as looked at me I trembled for the moment to come. And no one knows, Gil, what would have hap—happened unless he—had been reserving—me for—for a fate—worse than—" Her face was dyed with shame; she broke off, and threw herself upon her husband's breast. Her words became incoherent in a flood of tears.
Silencio held his young wife close to his heart, he pressed his lips upon her wet eyelids, upon her disordered hair. He soothed her as a brave man must, forgetting his own anxiety in her terror.
"My peons are armed, Raquel. They are well instructed. They are, I think, faithful, as much so, at least, as good treatment can make them. Even must they be bribed, they shall be. I have more money than Escobeda, Raquel. Even were you his daughter, you are still my wife. He could not touch you. As it is, he has no claim upon you. I am not afraid of him. He may do his worst, I am secure."
"And I?"
[Pg 229]
"Child! Are not you the first with me? But for you I should go out single-handed and try to shoot the coward down. But should I fail—and he is as good a shot as the island boasts—Raquel, who would care for you? I have thought it all out, child. My bullets are as good as Escobeda's; they shoot as straight, but I hope I have a better way; I have been preparing for your coming a long time, dear Heart, and my grandfather before me."
Raquel looked up from her hiding-place on his breast.
"Your grandfather, Gil, for me?"
Silencio smiled down upon the upraised eyes.
"Yes, for you, Raquel, had he but known it. Come! child, come! Dry your tears! Rest easy! You are safe." As Silencio spoke he shivered. "Your tea has gone to my nerves."
He took the pretty pink teacup from the veranda rail, where he had placed it, and set it upon the table. He looked critically at the remains of the pale yellow decoction.
"Really, Raquel, if you continue to give me such strong drinks, I shall have to eschew tea altogether."
"I am so sorry. I put in very little, Gil."
Silencio had brought a smile to her face. There is bravery in success of this kind, bringing a smile to the face of a beloved and helpless creature when a man's heart is failing him for fear.
[Pg 230]
"Let us walk round to the counting-house," he said.
He laid his arm about her shoulder, and together they strolled slowly to the side veranda, traversed its lengths, and descended the steps. They walked along the narrow path which led to the counting-house, and turned in at the enclosure. At the door they halted. Silencio took a heavy key from his pocket. Contrary to custom, he had kept the outer door locked for the past fortnight.
"Our Don Gil is getting very grand with his lockings up, and his lockings up," grumbled Anicito Juan. "There were no lockings up, the good God knows, in the days of the old Se?or."
"And the good God also knows there were no lazy peons in the days of the old Se?or to pry and to talk and to forget what they owe the family. When did the peon see meat in the days of the old Se?or? When, I ask? When did you see fowl in a pot, except for the Se?ores? And now the best of sugar, and bull for the san-coche twice a week. And peons of the most useless can complain of such a master! Oh! Ta-la!"
A storm of words from the family champion, Guillermina, fell as heavily upon the complainant as a volley of blows from a man. Anicito Juan ducked his head as if a hurricane were upon him, and rushed away to cover.............