The Bandolero Part 29

What a pity we had not taken this route at first!

I was loth to lose the time, but there was no help for it. To have saved it, by going direct, might have resulted in the loss of our lives; or, at all events, in disaster to our expedition.

Ten minutes more, and we stood behind the _maguey_.

Parting its spinous leaves, and pa.s.sing in between them, we obtained the desired standpoint.

As I have said, the music had ceased, as also the conversation and laughter. All three had been hushed for some time--having come to a stop while we were skulking among the rhododendrons.

We supposed at first, that supper had been announced to the company in the _sala grande_, and we might soon see them in the _sala de comida_.

Although the preparations did not appear complete, we should have stayed to await the going in of the guests--but for what we heard from the other apartment.

The sounds of merriment, abruptly brought to an end, had been succeeded by the solitary voice. It was that of a man, who appeared to speak in slow measured tones--as if addressing himself to an audience.

We could hear him all the time we were changing place; and his harangue was still going on, as we came into cover among the fronds of the pulque plant.

The first glance through these explained everything--why the music had ceased, and the laughter been restrained.

Inside the sala a ceremony was progressing, that, under the circ.u.mstances, might well be termed solemn. It was the ceremonial of a marriage!

A monk, whose robe of bluish grey proclaimed him of the order of San Francisco, was standing near the middle of the floor. I mention him first, as he was the first to come under my eye.

He held a book in his hand; and was reading from it the ritual of marriage--according to the Romish Church.

My eyes did not dwell upon him for a single second. They went in search of the bride, and bridegroom.

A little s.h.i.+fting among the leaves brought me face to face with the latter. Imagine my astonishment on beholding Francisco Moreno!

It was scarcely increased when I obtained a view of the bride. A presentiment--sad, almost stifling--had prepared me for seeing Dolores Villa-Senor. It was she!

I could not see her face. She was standing with her back towards the window. Besides, a white scarf, thrown loosely over her crown, and draping down to her waist, hindered even a side view of it.

There could be no doubt about its being Dolores. There was no mistaking that magnificent form--even when seen _en detras_. She it was, standing at the altar!

A wide s.p.a.ce separated the bridegroom from the bride. I could not tell who, or what, was between. It appeared a little odd; but I supposed it might be the fas.h.i.+on of the country.

Behind _him_ were other figures--all men--all in costumes that proclaimed a peculiar calling. They were _brigands_. Francisco only differed from the rest in being more splendidly attired. But then he was their chief!

I had been puzzled--a little pained--by some speeches he had let fall during our intercourse in the City of the Angels. How gentle had been his reproaches, and tolerant his condemnation, of Carrasco! As a rival, not as a robber, he had shown indignation against the _ci-devant_ captain of Santa Anna!

What I now saw explained all. Don Eusebio had spoken only of probabilities, when he said that Moreno might be a bandit. Had he known the real truth regarding this aspirant to his daughter's hand, he might have been excused for his design to shut her up in a convent.

The bride was willing; there could be no doubt of it. I remembered what the stage-driver had told me, of her tripping off so lightly among the trees, her present behaviour confirmed it. Even in that solemn hour, I fancied that she was gay. I could not see the face; but there was a free, _nonchalant_ carriage of the head, and a coy vibration of the scarf that covered it, very different from the staid, drooping att.i.tude that denotes compulsion. On the contrary, she appeared contented-- trembling only with joy!

It would be vain to attempt a description of my own feelings. For the time, a statue set among the shrubbery could not have been more motionless than I. I stood rigid as the fronds of the aloe around me,-- my gaze steadfastly fixed upon the spectacle pa.s.sing inside. I began to fancy it a dream!

But, no! There was the bride and the bridegroom; and the monk, in dull monotone still reciting from his book!

And now I could hear the promise to "love, honour, and cherish," and the responsive vow to "love, honour, and obey"--all after the formula of the Catholic faith.

Oh! it was no dream, but a h.e.l.lish, heart-rending reality!

The woman who had won my heart--whom for six months I had been vainly endeavouring to forget--was before my eyes, surrounded by a band of brigands--not their captive, but the bride of their chief--freely consenting to the sacrifice!

"_Otra cosa de Mexico_!"

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

A RUDE INTERRUPTION.

"Otra cosa de Mexico!"

Another strange occurrence of Mexico; if not the most incomprehensible, certainly the most painful, that had yet come under my cognisance: for it related to myself--the black, bitter part of it.

Words will not convey the state of my mind, as I stood regarding the group inside. I could not move--either to advance, or go back. I could scarce get breath. My heart felt as if compressed under a heavy weight, never more to be removed. It was undergoing its maximum of misery.

My feelings can only be understood by one, who has had the misfortune to pa.s.s through a like ordeal. He who has bestowed his affections upon some high-born beauty may feel chagrin, on discovering that they are not returned. It will be deepened by the knowledge, that another has won the wished-for prize. Still is there solace, however slight, in the reflection: that the preference has been given to one worthy, whose fortune has been more favourable.

When otherwise--when the preferred rival is worthless, socially or morally, then is the humiliation complete--overwhelming. It is self-love stung to the quick.

Such a humiliation was I called upon to suffer.

With all my pretensions of pride--a conceit in the possession of certain superiorities, mental as well as physical; courage, talent, strength, activity; a position not humble; a reputation each day increasing; with, and in spite of all these, I saw that my suit had been slighted, and the favour I coveted more than aught upon earth, bestowed upon another.

And who that other? A _bandolero_! A robber!

It was the very wantonness of woe that swept over my heart, whelming it with terrible desolation!

I stood like a stranded s.h.i.+p with the huge seas breaking over her.

Waves of pa.s.sion rushed impetuously through my breast, black as the billows of the storm-contorted ocean.

The spectacle, while stirring me to anger, at the same time kept me fixed to the spot. I made no movement--either forward or backward. I felt paralysed with a pa.s.sion, such as I hope I may never feel again.

The world seemed full of woe!

For a time I was unable to reflect. My thoughts were but instincts, now woeful, now wicked--now despairing, now tending to resolves.

One a little n.o.bler at length took possession of me. My own fate was sealed; but not that of Dolores Villa-Senor--which to me seemed equally dark, and drear. Was it possible to save her?

I had not heard those mystic words that rivet the golden chain of wedlock, "With this ring I thee wed." The s.h.i.+ning symbol had not yet appeared upon her finger.

There was still time to interrupt the ceremony. A single breath into the silver tube, that hung suspended over my breast, would stay it; and, before it could be resumed, the green jackets would be around me.

It was no thought of danger that withheld me from sounding that signal.

I was too unhappy to have a feeling of fear; too reckless to care a straw for any consequences to myself. At that moment I could have rushed into the presence of the bridal group, and defied one and all to the death!

It was neither caution, nor a craven spirit, that restrained me; but an instinct more ign.o.ble than either--an instinct of revenge.