Raquel

“ She turned dismayed though roguish eyes on Raquel.
"He did not expect us when the rains came," said Raquel with quiet certainty. "If he received Doña Luisa's letter, he has gone by sea to San Diego. Did she not say so, Anita?"
"Oh, he can do much, your handsome Rafael," agreed Ana, "but he cannot yet stop the tide, or dam La Christienita! Such a dry bed in Summer! and now it is a river."
"But not deep?" hazarded Raquel. "Not so deep as the carriage bed."
"Deep? There is one ford that is safe if one knows it; but, Holy Maria! on each side are pits of a depth to drown us all!" ”

“ I know you do not think of men—that it is to live ever in cloisters! But pray God that the man may never come, Raquel—for a girl is only a girl, after all!"
"Of course, but—"
"Oh, you would argue, because you do not know!" burst out Ana, with impatience. "Raquel, you are so good you are always beautiful; but I tell you truly, that if it should happen—all the saints could not help you. Between your vow for the soul of Rafael and your love for the one man—"
"Well, my Anita?"
"Well, you could not live through it and remain what you are. Any woman would go mad—any woman." ”

“ Stop it! The laugh is the worst of all! Raquel—Raquelita—darling mine!"
But Ana's frenzy of fear was so irresistibly funny, that Raquel continued to laugh, and the laughter grew louder after the other women were called in, and helped to undress her and wrap her in blankets to smother the chill. That night, candles never went out in the house, and Ana knelt before the altar with prayers to the saints that they might undo the folly of her tongue. But old Polonia knelt instead by the couch of Raquel and cursed the American, that he had not died there in Mexico. ”

“ He may win seven heavens for aught I care. But, name of God! sing no praises of him for saving Raquel Estevan for me! She is not a woman, Anita! Never a woman for a man who wants a wife. By God, I think she is the devil turned saint; and the man who carries her to the hills is my friend and earns a herd of horses!"
"Santa Maria! You are mad over that other woman, Rafael Arteaga. Every one sees it but Raquel; and when she does see it—"
"She! she sees nothing but her saints on the altar! She has only the heart of a nun in that white breast of hers. ”

“ She stared at him, and stumbled to her feet in salutation.
"It is true, my father, but the kings of the hills are dead; and now," pointing toward Raquel, "there will be no more in the land."
"Who knows?" said the strange padre. "There still lives a daughter; guard her better than you did her mother when I carried love messages from Estevan."
"Ai! I know you now. You have become padre, and you guard her from the heretics—the heretics, father," and she pointed toward the veranda where Don Enrico and his guest could be heard in conversation. ”

“ But the sight of Raquel and her little court of admirers changed all that. The proud eyes should know all the humiliation one woman could cause another—all!
She looked for Rafael; at once she would tell him,—now, while the glory of the Mexican opal eclipsed the woman of the royal pearls! She was blind with anger to every other thing. But he had not yet appeared. He was dressing, and a gentleman came to claim her for a dance. The guitars were already sending harmonies through the open doors, and the people were gathering thick along the western corridors. ”

“ The wilder mood of Raquel in the great out-of-doors, where she became something besides the girl of the cloisters, had a sobering effect on Ana herself. A girl who would sacrifice herself through a temporary religious fervor was not one to look with favor on any sacrifice or risk for heretics. Again and again she thought of the letter to the Americano on which that message had been pencilled. She thought also of the words of friendship uttered by Padre Libertad for the same American, at the San Joaquin ranch. ”

“ And she who had given that extra spin to the already whizzing wheel of his fate sat there in the Piccadilly, her head a little back, her lips a little parted, her dark eyes sensitised to all the glitter of the room, the fingers of one down-hung hand moving in time to Raquel's song.
Suddenly I broke in on her mood.
"Julia. As a practical matter. How do you suppose he got to France? It isn't easy for a man without papers of any kind, you know." ”

“ I know. No one else ever shall, and whatever you want done shall be done."
"God help me, indeed!" Raquel moaned. "To the soul of Rafael I am bound all the days of my life. I want nothing done. I dare want nothing."
Raquel went no more into the room where Keith Bryton awoke to a hold on life and reason,—that was the one thing perplexing to the man in the priest's gown; [334] and not even Ana was allowed to hear the constant demands for Doña Espiritu, or the girl of the temple, or the lady who had led him out of the wilderness under the light of the morning star! ”

“ She is only a wife; it is the other who is still the woman."
Ana flung an angry look at the pessimistic, philosophic vaquero, and followed Raquel, slamming the door after her to emphasize her impatience with his all-too-true statements.
She checked her tempestuous entrance at sight of the wife they were discussing, kneeling at the little altar in the corner of her own room. The tall candles were lit, and before the shrine of the Virgin Raquel was prostrate.
Ana crossed herself and went out softly, half afraid that the argument in the corridor had been heard through the thick adobe walls. ”

“ The people wondered much that the robbers who would kill a woman and steal a boat had not stopped also to gather up the scattered jewels strewn about her. But they had not. Not even a diamond was missing. They were gathered from the tiles, and the blood was washed from them, and the casket was taken to Raquel by Ana, who was almost as silent as Rafael. On that subject, never in their lives would they gain courage to speak. Raquel took the casket, and looked at the gems, but did not touch them. ”

“ Three hours would have brought a lover here, but it takes thirty for the husband."
"Why do you two quarrel always?" asked Raquel, indifferently. "I did not know she had sent for you. I was very tired, and the hot sun—something—oh yes, I was ill, and wakened myself screaming. But it is all gone. I can go home."
Rafael tramped the veranda and sulked.
"A fine laugh you have made for me in Los Angeles! They will think you were sick, that I follow my wife!" he said, frowning at Ana. "God of my soul! Why do you not get another husband to worry into the grave, and let your neighbors alone?" ”

“ Ana flashed a glance of resentment at the languid blossom of a woman, always a shimmer of lacy ruffles, a picture of alluring, half-childish helplessness. It was for such a white kitten Rafael was losing all his sense.
"I should be proud to use my hands for the same work, instead of this endless embroidery," she observed; "but Doña Raquel will not hear of it."
"To mould the candles for the altar, each woman of each house should make her own," returned [346] Raquel, quietly. "You have not that custom in your land—no?" ”

“ I confess it to you, and ask you to give no heed to my mistakes."
"It was a mistake, then, that he cared?" persisted Ana. "You were so sure—"
"It was another woman," broke in the priest, curtly. "Oh yes, there was a woman; but I was the fool when I thought I knew who the woman was; that is all."
"And Raquel is not—"
"Raquel Estevan de Arteaga is a woman men should cross themselves when they mention," he said, quietly. "She has a strength in her that is of God or the devil; she brings it from her Indian hills of Mexico, and I for one will be on the safe side and treat it with respect." ”

“ Ana laughed a little and shrugged her shoulders.
"Capitan is like that," she observed. "No one is like him. If Rafael's life were in danger this hour, Capitan would ride to save him. Oh, he does not mean that he shall die while young, and handsome, and rich, and beloved!"
Her tone had a little hard ring for a moment; her eyes were sparkling with a certain admiration for the character she was describing. The story had brought the color back to Raquel's face, and she listened feverishly. What strange, strange things could be possible in the smiling valleys of San Juan! ”

“ But the last words of Don Gil were lost in the renewed efforts of the engineer to back the steamer from the sand spit.
No words passed at first between Raquel and her [Pg 152] rescuer. If love is not always blind and sometimes not truthful, he is apt to be silent. Raquel needed no explanation. As the boat glided through the darkness, Silencio dropped the oars. He took her hands in his. His lips were pressed to hers. What question should she ask? What more did she crave to know? Here were life and liberty and love, in exchange for slavery, pollution, and worse than death. ”

“ Raquel looked at her, and smiled strangely, and rose to her feet.
"Ai! you are right, Anita; it is without doubt [279] more wise to love like that. All the girls in the willows think so." As she saw Ana's face flush, she turned in quick contrition. "Ah, forgive me! You do not love as they do, I am sure—those fat brown animals; but, Anita darling, I am a tired soul, and rest is somewhere far beyond the ranges, and—ah, well,—forgive me!" ”

“ What would she not endure for her beloved Rafael—now your beloved Rafael?"
Ana was not malicious, but there was a touch of mockery in her tone and questioning glance.
"Why should he not be beloved?" asked the other, [66] smoothing carefully the mane of her horse and bending low to conceal the slight flush of cheek. "Is he not handsome and good?"
"It is not easy to be good when a man is so handsome," laughed Ana; "still, I will take your word for it! But, Raquel, you always get clear of the question; not once have you said that you find him beloved. ”

“ When I was a little child the old Indios told strange ghost and curse stories, and we were all much afraid; now the old Indios are mostly dead, and no one else remembers, only all are still afraid of the earthquake ruin at night."
"They are sheep; they are afraid of their shadows at night," retorted Ana; "that is why Raquel will always be, as you say, 'outside'!"
"Well, she goes against the padre, and that is always bad. It is bad luck to fight a padre; he can refuse absolution." ”

“ Raquel will always be first of all the wife of Rafael Arteaga; after that she may show kindness to other human things, even the heretics. But this one heretic we will take the care of off her hands all that we can, Anita. She is not the girl to drag into a man's schemes of revenge. ”

“ That she is of Keith Bryton's family is something, but it is not enough. When he is able I shall tell him some things—I shall tell Don Eduardo things! She makes [349] a mock of our women, and I keep quiet; she makes her love to your husband, and I say nothing; but, Raquel, she makes mockery of your religion in your own house. Can you stand that too?"
Raquel put her hands over her eyes an instant in a tired way.
"Quiet, you, Anita mia," she said after a little. "Words are not so much use. They will go away soon now—after the dance to-morrow night. And I do not think it is true of Rafael. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Santa Maria! The man has no wife. Half the girls of Los Angeles county try to marry him, but it is never any use."
"Anita!"
"How you stare at me, Raquel! You think I [302] mean some other American, maybe. No? I speak of Don Keith Bryton. You hate them all so; no one ever speaks of them to you; but he is not bad. He saved your Indian woman at the ranch while you slept. You did not know it all."
"Stop, and let me think," said Raquel, imperatively. "Some one has lied. Who is the fair woman with the blue eyes—the Mrs. Bryton—the Doña Angela he drove with—the—"
"She is the widow of his half-brother ”

“ They need not know of the sale until the Lorings choose to tell them.”
Little Raquel had opened the door, very much pleased at their arrival. She informed them “Aunt Chloe laid up with some sort of misery, and Betsey, who was in the cook-house, she see them comen’ an’ she have some coffee for them right off,” and she was proceeding with other affairs of entertainment when Judithe interrupted:
“No coffee, nothing for me. Now, Doctor, if you want to show me the library; you know we must not linger, this is to be a busy day at the Terrace.” ”

“ They had mounted their horses when the certainty that it was not fair came upon Ana, and she slipped from the saddle and stirred up the sulking embers of the little fire until it broke into a blaze.
"Raquel, it is no use! I must tell you before we start. The man I go to see is the friend of a heretic whom you bar out from your knowledge. The message sent me is written on a letter of Bryton's. You heard them say Señor Bryton cannot be found; and there is a chance—only a chance—that he may be in the mountain where we are going." ”

“ See also, in relation to Mira de Mescua, Montalvan, Para Todos, the Catalogue at the end; and Pellicer, Biblioteca, Tom. I. p. 89. The story on which the “Raquel” is founded is a fiction, and therefore need not so much have disturbed the censors of the theatre. (Castro, Crónica de Sancho el Deseado, Alonso el Octavo, etc., Madrid, 1665, folio, pp. 90, etc.) ”