Part 24

Chiquita, accustomed to the Señora's outbursts, did not deign an immediate reply, but sat quietly fanning herself, a faint smile wreathing her lips; she was thoroughly enjoying the Señora's discomfort. What would not the latter give to know something concerning those pesos? Chiquita's composure under the fire of her words only tended to increase her irritation.

"Oh, I know why you have thus suddenly turned the peacock! You do not deceive me! You have arrayed yourself thus for the grand Señor--Capitan Forest."

"Bah!" ejaculated Chiquita composedly, as though nothing unusual were taking place. "Is that all you have to say Doña Fernandez?"

"All! Is that not enough? Holy God!" she cried with increasing vexation. "You are in love--in love, I say!" A ripple of laughter bubbled over the two rosy petals of Chiquita's lips, revealing the pearly whiteness of her teeth. Now that she realized the real cause of the Señora's anger, it was impossible to become angry herself. The Señora, however, was by no means abashed by Chiquita's indifference, and vigorously renewed the attack.

"So our little ring-dove is in love, is she?" she continued mockingly, strutting back and forth before her. "You think Capitan Forest will notice you in that finery--that he will fall in love with you and will marry you, and that you will become a grand lady like the Señorita Lennox and ride in a fine carriage for the rest of your days. Mercedes Dios! and all because you have succeeded in turning the heads of a few country bumpkins that hang about the place casting sheep's-eyes at you. Ha, ha, ha!" she laughed derisively. "Believe me, when Capitan Forest makes up his mind to marry, he will not stoop so low to pick up so little."

"Doña Fernandez!" said Chiquita sharply rising from the bench with an ominous look in her eyes.

"Foolish child," Señora went on without heeding her, "to imagine that some day your hands will be white like a lady's! I suppose you have nothing further to do to-day but to pick flowers?" she added, pausing for breath.

"I have never worried about my color, Doña Fernandez," replied Chiquita indignantly. "Indeed, I sometimes think it holds its own better than that of some persons I might mention."

"Holy Mother! how your tongue runs on! Am I not to be allowed to say anything? Oh, you do not deceive me! I saw you give him the rose as I came here. If he's sensible, he'll throw it away."

Chiquita laughed derisively. "Perhaps it is well for the world that all people are not so sensible as you are, Doña Fernandez," and her fan closed with a sudden snap. "So this is the advice you came to give me, Doña Fernandez? How very considerate of you!"

Her words recalled the Señora to the purpose of her coming. For some time she paced up and down before Chiquita without replying. Then stopping and facing her, and watching closely for the effect her words would have upon her, she said: "I came to tell you--that Don Felipe Ramirez has returned."

Chiquita started. "Don Felipe here?"

"Aye. He's stopping at my house, and I came to warn you that perhaps it would be well to be cautious and exercise a little more self-control than is your wont when in his and Capitan Forest's presence."

The Señora was satisfied with her morning's work; her words had had their effect. Besides, had she not had her say--unburdened her soul of many things which she had long been dying to give utterance to? All things considered she had scored.

"Á Dios, Señorita," she added sarcastically, her black eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as with mock courtesy she bowed and turned, leaving Chiquita silent and motionless, her eyes cast on the ground and lost in thought.

XIV

"Don Felipe here? The coward, the cur! How dare he return?" she cried with a sudden outburst, her words ringing with indignation and resentment. She impatiently tapped the palm of her hand with her fan as she began to realize what his return might mean to her.

She knew that Señora had come to warn her not on her own account, but solely on Don Felipe's. Knowing as she did the reckless character of the man, she thoroughly realized the danger, and knew that she must be on her guard, not only for her own sake, but for Captain Forest's as well. Like the bird of ill omen that he was, his presence boded no good to her. Already she felt his baleful shadow fall across her path.

The unusual attention which Chiquita had begun to pay to her personal appearance did not escape the observant eye of Padre Antonio. Knowing the nature of woman as few men did, he was wise enough not to question her, experience having taught him that the majority of women can only keep a secret for a certain length of time. He smiled and admired, or twitted her with the simple remark: "For whom are we dressing this morning, Chiquita mia?" But she only laughed in reply, or shaking her finger at him with a mysterious air, would say: "What woman would not dress for Padre Antonio?" But Padre Antonio was not so innocent as he tried to appear. Instinct, reënforced by long experience, told him that these were the first real symptoms of love which his wild little Indian girl, as he chose to call her, had shown.

He had always suspected that she never really cared for Don Felipe, and had done his best to break off the engagement before the catastrophe had overtaken the latter; but this was different. That of which he was loath to think, yet which he knew must inevitably happen, had come to pass.

His knowledge of human nature told him that she had at last met the man worthy of her love, but, he asked himself, would Captain Forest, of a different race and reared under totally different conditions, reciprocate that love? He could not endure the thought that his little girl might be made unhappy should the Captain fail to respond to her love.

He, too, had seen Chiquita give him the rose from his study window which overlooked the garden. So, when the sermon upon which he was engaged was completed, he quietly descended to the garden with the intention of administering to her a gentle admonition as well as giving her a little wholesome advice. Chiquita, hearing the sound of his measured tread on the gravel as he approached along the pathway, reseated herself on the bench and began to fan herself unconcernedly.

What a picture she made against the pale plumy branches of the tamarisk, thought Padre Antonio.

"I thought I heard voices," he said, seating himself beside her. "Has any one been here?"

"Doña Fernandez has just gone," replied Chiquita absently. "She has been giving me some of her advice."

"Advice?" echoed Padre Antonio, realizing the moment of his arrival to be most opportune. "That's just what I have come to give you, my child--advice!"

"What! You, too, Padre?" she exclaimed petulantly, looking at him inquiringly. "Dios! what have I done that everybody comes to give me advice when I have so many other things to think of?"

"Chiquita," slowly began Padre Antonio, laying his hand gently on her own, "I have always known you to be wiser than most women, the result no doubt, of your early life and training in the wilds where people must live by their wits for self-preservation if for nothing else." He paused that he might the better collect his thoughts. She guessed what was coming and began toying with her fan, an arch smile playing about her delicate, sensitive mouth as she regarded him out of the corners of her large dark eyes.