For Jacinta

by Harold Bindloss

  CHAPTER XX

  JACINTA MAKES NO EXCUSE

  It was in the heat of the afternoon Mrs. Hatherly and Muriel drove intoold-world Laguna, which stands high upon the hill slopes above SantaCruz. It was built four hundred years ago, and remains but littlechanged, for its early prosperity ebbed away with the trade in the oncefamous vintages of Canary, so that it stood until a few years ago withthe grass in its streets, a place of drowsy stillness, picturesque inits decay, cool, and by no means over clean. Beneath it the hillsidedrops, dusty and sun-scorched, to the sea; but on the plateau behind itare fields of tall sugar-cane, walnuts, eucalyptus, and vines, beyondwhich again the shoulders of the great peak are seamed by stragglingpines. Still, when Mrs. Hatherly drove into it, Laguna was once moreawakening, for the British tourist had arrived, with his wife anddaughters, in blue veils and inartistic raiment that roused thepeasants' wonder, besides cameras, and baggage by the carriage load; andwhen the tourist comes, quietness and the dignified simplicity of oldenSpain melt before him.

  The SeA+-ora Anasona, with whom Jacinta was then residing, however,belonged to the ancient order, and she had also placed herself and allher possessions at Mrs. Hatherly's disposal. The latter had alreadydiscovered that to be a friend of Jacinta's counted for a good deal inthose islands. It secured one consideration in unexpected places, andopened doors at which the tweed-clad tourists' wives might knock invain. The Castilian is somewhat behind the times, and, perhaps becausehe is seldom troubled with much of it, attaches rather less importancethan some other people do to the possession of money. Muriel, however,was not certain why her aunt had undertaken that hot and dusty drive,although she had informed her that if there was a comfortable hotel inLaguna she might stay there a day or two, because she was not sure thatSanta Cruz suited her, and she had been troubled with certainpremonitory twinges in one shoulder.

  In any case, she faced the scorching sun uncomplainingly, and arrivingat last before an iron-bound door in a blank white wall, was led throughan ill-kept garden, where flowers rioted, a chaos of blazing colour, attheir will, into a big, cool house, which seemed filled with slumbrousquietness. She was received by a very reposeful lady of middle age ininconveniently tight-fitting black silk, with the powder thick upon herpallid face. The SeA+-ora Anasona was, as is usual with Spanish women whohave passed their third decade, somnolent in expression, and portly; butthough they could only muster a very little indifferent French betweenthem, she promptly set her guests at ease.

  "This poor house and all there is in it are yours," she said. "Thefriends of the SeA+-orita Jacinta are also mine. Since you have known thisfor some time, why have you stayed away so long?"

  It was the usual conventional formula in Spain, but there was a certainstately graciousness in her gesture which Mrs. Hatherly had never seenquite equalled before. The latter attempted an appropriate reply inFrench, and then inquired for Jacinta, whereupon her hostess smiled.

  "She is in the patio, and, perhaps, asleep," she said. "If not, it islikely that she will come in. I do not know. One does what one pleasesalways in this house of mine, and here one usually sleeps by theafternoon. What would you? It is a custom of the country, and there isnothing else to do. One can dream of the times when it was differentwith us and Spain."

  "One could fancy in this island that those days have not altogetherpassed away, or, at least, that they had left something behind," saidMrs. Hatherly. "One sees it in even your peons' courtesy, and themodesty of the women."

  "You did not feel that in Las Palmas?"

  "No," said Mrs. Hatherly. "I don't think I did."

  The seA+-ora laughed. "Las Palmas is not Spanish now, my friend. They havecoal wharves and harbour works, and heap up the pesetas there. Thereare, however, things we others would not exchange for silver. Thishouse, for example. An Englishman would buy it and make it an hotel."

  "Of course, you would not sell it him?"

  The seA+-ora shook her head. "It is not mine," she said. "It belongs tothe Anasonas who are dead. One of them built it four hundred years ago,and one of them has lived here always, until my husband, Colonel ofCazadores, died in Cuba. Now I live alone, and remember, until by and bymy nephew comes here after me. The past is all we have in Spain, but onefeels that, after all, it may be worth more than the present--when onegoes to Las Palmas."

  Then a maid brought in a basket of grapes and a little wine, and it wassome time later when the seA+-ora turned to Muriel.

  "It seems that Jacinta is not coming in," she said. "Perhaps she wouldsooner see you alone in the patio. I do not know. Jacinta does not careabout the conventions. She does what pleases her, and it is also veryoften the right thing. One descends from the veranda outside thatwindow."

  Muriel smiled as she went out, for she was acquainted with Jacinta'shabits, and was beginning to comprehend the customs of the land shelived in, where time is not considered, and it is always drowsyafternoon. Then, though she was not an imaginative person, she trodsoftly as she went down the steps to the patio, for the influence of theplace laid hold on her. The little white town lay silent under thecloudless heavens, and had there been any movement of busy life there,which very seldom happened, the high white walls of the garden wouldhave shut out the sound. The house was also built round the patio in ahollow square, and interposed a double barrier between the outer worldand that space of flowers.

  Over it hung bronze-railed balconies, and quaint verandas with oldcarved pillars and rich trellises smothered in purple bougainvilla,while there were oleanders and heavy scented heliotrope in the littlesquare below. A fountain twinkled in the midst of it, and fat goldfishfrom Palma swam slowly round its marble basin; but all was old,artistic, ill cared for, and steeped in a silence which seemed filledwith the reminiscences of bygone years. Even Jacinta, who lay in a bigcane chair near the fountain, appeared in keeping with the atmosphere ofthe place, for she was dressed in gauzy Castilian black, which added asuggestion of old-fashioned stateliness to her somewhat slender figure,and an ebony fan of a kind not made nowadays lay across an open book shehad apparently been reading. She looked up with a little smile when shesaw Muriel, and languidly pointed to the canvas lounge beside her.

  "It's comfortable, and I think it's strong," she said. "Any way, theseA+-ora regularly goes to sleep in it. I brought the lounges with me,because they don't have such things in Spain. I shall probably leavethem here, and if they break down with the seA+-ora it is quite certainnobody will ever think of mending them. One folds one's hands and saysthat it doesn't matter at Laguna. You will begin to understand it if youstay here."

  Muriel laughed. "It's often a little hard to tell what you mean," shesaid. "You have been reading?"

  "Mr. Prescott's history of the Spanish occupation of Mexico--you will,no doubt, be astonished at that?"

  "I am. Still, I have read it, too."

  Jacinta smiled as she unfolded her fan. "I have my moments ofrelaxation, and can be sentimental now and then. Sentiment, you see, isin the atmosphere here. One feels mediA|val, as if all the old things ofthe olden days had come back again, miracles, and crowned virgins thatfell from the clouds, valour and knightliness, and man's faith in woman.No doubt there were more, but I don't remember them. They have, ofcourse, gone out of fashion long ago."

  She spoke lightly, but there was a trace of bitterness in her voice thatMuriel noticed.

  "One doesn't find that atmosphere in the book. The men who went withCortez were cruel as well as brutal."

  "They certainly seem to have been so, which is one reason why theyinterest me. You see, the Spaniards seized these islands a little beforethey discovered Cuba, and I wanted to find out what the men who builtthese beautiful homes here were really like when they had work on hand.As one would have fancied, the grave, ceremonious Don who posed as amost punctilious gentleman at home became a very different kind ofperson when he went to Mexico. The original Adam showed up there. It'sa useful lesson to any one silly enough to idealise the man she is goingto marry."

&n
bsp; Muriel flushed a little. "I think I know what you mean. Mr. Austin triedto convey the same impression when he told me what they were doing onboard the _Cumbria_. Still, he went a good deal further than you do. Hemade me understand that, though there are things that could only be donerudely and almost brutally, it was often only what was ideal in the menwho did them that sent them to the work at all."

  "Yes," said Jacinta drily. "I fancy he would do it rather well. Mr.Austin is not much of an artist, and would never be a great one; but hehas the capacity of understanding, or, perhaps, I should say imaginingthings. Still, the pity is that he usually stops there. He doesn't wantto do them, and though he once very rashly tried, he was not long indiscovering that the work was a good deal too hard for him. I reallythink you should be glad there is a trace of primitive--we'll be candid,and call it brutality--in Harry Jefferson."

  Again the colour showed in Muriel's face. "It isn't," she said. "It'sonly natural forcefulness; but we needn't go into that. I wonder why youare so angry with Mr. Austin?"

  "Angry?" and Jacinta raised her brows. "Oh, dear no! Still, there arepoints on which he did not quite come up to my expectations, and afterthe admonitions I have wasted on him I feel a little annoyed with him."

  "Still, isn't that a trifle unreasonable? What could he have done thathe hasn't done? He was ill and worn out, but he wouldn't even stay a dayafter he got the money."

  "What money?" and there was a sharp insistency in Jacinta's tone.

  "The money to buy the coal with. They found they hadn't enough, youknow."

  "I don't."

  "Well," said Muriel, "it is really your own fault. You wouldn't let metell you about it in the plaza. Mr. Austin had to borrow the money fromhis English relatives, though I think it hurt him horribly to ask them.When he found they would send it he had to catch the first Africansteamer."

  Jacinta straightened herself suddenly, and gazed at Muriel withastonishment and dismay in her face.

  "So he meant to go back all the time?" she said.

  "Of course," said Muriel, and Jacinta, sitting back again, sat verystill, though her companion noticed that one hand had closed tightly onher fan.

  "When was he to go?" she asked, with a curious quietness.

  "In a day or two. He is in Las Palmas now."

  Then there was a curious silence for almost a minute, and Jacinta, whocould not rouse herself to break it, was glad to see that Muriel hadevidently not remembered that her only information about Austin's doingswas that contained in her father's message. There was no sound but thesoft splashing of the fountain, and Jacinta found the stillness becomingintolerable. It was a relief when Muriel, who felt that her company wasnot appreciated, rose.

  "Perhaps the seA+-ora will expect me to go back," she said. "Are youcoming?"

  "I am not," said Jacinta. "I have no doubt your aunt will come out tosee me presently."

  Muriel looked a little puzzled. "You will not mind my going?"

  "Of course not," and Jacinta laughed somewhat curiously. "I have, asyou see, a work on Mexico to keep me company."

  Muriel left her, and she lay still in the chair listening to thefountain and gazing straight in front of her, until Mrs. Hatherly camedown the veranda stairs alone half an hour later. She sat down andlooked at Jacinta steadily.

  "I suppose you know why I have come to Laguna to-day?" she said.

  "Yes," said Jacinta quietly. "Still, I hadn't the faintest notion alittle while ago. I shall try to bear anything you may think fit to sayto me. Mr. Austin, I understand, is a friend of yours."

  The little lady smiled, for she saw that Jacinta was clever enough tomake no excuses, and she appreciated her candour as well as her goodsense.

  "Well," she said, "I want you to tell me why you sent him to Africa."

  "For one thing, because Muriel was once very kind to me. Mr. Jeffersonwas down with fever, and I fancied that, in any case, he could do a gooddeal more with a comrade there. Still, that was not all. There wereother reasons."

  "Naturally. It is gratifying to discover how far a man's devotion willcarry him."

  A little flash crept into Jacinta's eyes, but it faded again. "I supposeI deserve that, but you are wrong. It wasn't to soothe my vanity."

  "No?" and there was a suggestion of incredulity in Mrs. Hatherly'ssmile. "Still, one may be excused for pointing out that it really looksvery like it."

  Jacinta made a little movement with her fan. "You can't think worse ofme than I do of myself; but I scarcely fancy I did wrong in sending him.He was wasting his life here, and I thought I knew what there was inhim. I wanted to rouse it--to waken him. You see, I am talking veryfrankly."

  "In that case it must have cost you something to send him to Africa?"

  The colour showed plainly in Jacinta's face. "I think that is anotherquestion. One, too, which you could scarcely expect me to answer you."

  "I'm afraid it was not very delicate," and Mrs. Hatherly's eyes grewgentler. "Still, didn't you feel that you were presumptuous?"

  "Of course; but I have always done what pleased me, and made others doit, too. It usually turned out well, you know. I have, however, come togrief this time, and it would almost be a relief if somebody would shakeme."

  Mrs. Hatherly smiled. "I fancy the feeling will do you good. Still, ifyou were right in sending Mr. Austin out, it is just a littleincomprehensible."

  "Then you don't know how I treated him?"

  "No," said Mrs. Hatherly. "At least, not exactly. He only admitted thatyou did not seem very pleased to see him. Still, I am an old woman, andthat naturally conveyed a good deal to me. Perhaps you do deserveshaking, but I want to be kind."

  Jacinta turned to her with the colour in her cheeks and a haziness inher eyes.

  "I taunted him with being a coward and finding the work too hard forhim. The man was ill and jaded, but I had no mercy on him. He saidnothing; he never told me he was going back. How was I to know? Thenight my father's message came I felt I could have struck him. If I haddone so, he would probably not have felt it half so much as thebitterness I heaped upon him."

  "Ah!" said Mrs. Hatherly. "It was, perhaps, natural under thecircumstances, but there is a good deal that you are responsible for."

  "What do you mean by under the circumstances?"

  Mrs. Hatherly smiled. "I have not the slightest doubt that you quiteunderstand, my dear. The question, however, is how you are going to setit right?"

  Jacinta shivered a little. The colour had already ebbed from her face,which was a trifle more pallid than usual.

  "It is a thing I may never be able to do," she said. "That is what makesit so hard. You see, a good many men go out to Africa, and so few comeback again. If it hadn't been for that I don't think I should haveadmitted what I have done, but I feel I must have somebody'scomprehension--if I can't expect sympathy."

  "You have mine, my dear," and Mrs. Hatherly laid a beautiful thin handgently upon her arm. "Besides, I think Mr. Austin will understand how itcame about when he goes back to Africa."

  Jacinta straightened herself slowly. "Well," she said, "that may happen,and in any case I know that I sent him, and he was glad to go."

  She met the little lady's sympathetic gaze steadily. "Still, that is sovery little, after all."

  Mrs. Hatherly smiled reassuringly. "My dear," she said, "I think you donot quite understand all that man is yet. In spite of the climate he andhis comrade are going to be successful."

  Then she turned, and Jacinta rose, for the SeA+-ora Anasona and Murielwere coming down the stairway.