CHAPTER XIX
VALENCIA ACCEPTS A RING
Manuel found Valencia pacing up and down the porch of the hotel in afever of impatience. Instantly at sight of him she ran forward quickly.
"Where have you been? What have you done with Sebastian? Why did youleave without telling me about it?" she demanded.
"One question at a time, my cousin," he answered, smiling at her. "Butlet us walk while I tell you."
She fell into step beside him, moving with the strong, lissom tread thatcame from controlled and deliberate power.
"What is it you have to tell? If you were called away, why did you notleave a message for me?" she asked, a little imperiously.
"I wasn't called away, Valencia. You were excited and angry. My opinionwas that Sebastian would speak if the matter was put to him right. So Icut the rope that tied him and we ran away through the back door of thehotel."
Her dark eyes, proud and passionate, began to smoulder. But the voicewith which she answered him was silken smooth.
"I see. You pretended to be working with me--and then you betrayed me.Is that it?"
"If you like," he said with a little shrug. "I backed my judgmentagainst your impatience. And it turns out that I was right."
"How? What has happened? Where is Sebastian?"
"He is galloping toward the hills as fast as he can--at least I hope heis. What happened is that he told me where Gordon is hidden."
"Where?"
"At your house. When you were there to-day you must have passed withintwenty feet of him."
"But--do you mean that Pablo and Sebastian took him there?"
"Exactly. They did not foresee that you would come to town, Valencia."He added, after a moment: "I have seen Mr. Gordon, talked with him, andreleased him. At this moment he is in your brother's room, probablyasleep."
All the sharpness had died out of the young woman's voice when sheturned to her cousin and spoke with a humility rare to her.
"Forgive me, Manuel. I always know best about everything. I drive aheadand must have my own way, even when it is not the wise one. You did justright to ignore me."
She laid her hand on his coat sleeve pleadingly, and he lifted it to hislips.
"_Nina_ ... the Queen can do no wrong. But I saw you were drivingSebastian to stubbornness. I tried to let him see we meant to be hisfriends if he would let us."
"Yes, you were right. Tell me everything, please." She paused just amoment before she said quietly: "But first, what about Mr. Gordon? He is... uninjured?"
"Beaten and mauled and starved, but still of the gayest courage,"answered the Spaniard with enthusiasm. "Did I not say that he was ahero? My cousin, I say it again. The fear of death is not in his heart."
He did not see the gleam in her dark eyes, the flush that beat into herdusky face. "Starved as well as beaten, Manuel?"
"They were trying to force him to give up his claim to the valley. Buthe--as I live the American is hard as Gibraltar."
"They dared to starve him--to torture him. I shall see that they arepunished," she cried with the touch of feminine ferocity that is theheritage of the south.
"No need, Valencia," returned Pesquiera with a dry little laugh. "Mr.Gordon has promised himself to attend to that."
He told her the story from first to last. Intently she listened, scarcebreathing until he had finished.
Manuel had told the tale with scrupulous fairness, but already hersympathies were turning.
"And he wouldn't agree not to prosecute?" she asked.
"No. It is his right to do so if he likes, Valencia."
She brushed this aside with an impatient wave of her hand. "Oh, hisright! Doesn't he owe something to us--to me--and especially to you?"
"No, he owes me nothing. What I did was done for you, and not for him,"the Spaniard replied instantly.
"Then to me at least he is in debt. I shall ask him to drop theprosecution."
"He is what his people call straight. But he is hard--hard as jade."
They were walking along a dark lane unlighted save by the stars.Valencia turned to him impetuously.
"Manuel, you are good. You do not like this man, but you save himbecause--because my heart is torn when my people do wrong. For me youtake much trouble--you risk much. How can I thank you?"
"_Nina mia_, I am thanked if you are pleased. It is your love I seek,Heart of mine." He spoke tremulously, taking her hands in his.
For the beat of a heart she hesitated. "You have it. Have I not given myword that--after the American was saved----?"
He kissed her. Hers was a virginal soul, but full-blooded. Anunsuspected passion beat in her veins. Not for nothing did she have thedeep, languorous eyes, the perfect scarlet lips, the sumptuous grace ofan artist's ideal. Fires lay banked within her in spite of the finepurity of her nature. Nature had poured into her symmetrical mold a richabundance of what we call sex.
The kisses of Manuel stirred within her new and strange emotions, thoughshe accepted rather than returned them. A faint vague unease chilled herheart. Was it because she had been immodest in letting him so far havehis way?
When they returned to the hotel Manuel's ring was on her finger. She wasdefinitely engaged to him.
It was long before she slept. She thought of Manuel, the man chosen itseemed by Fate to be her mate. But she thought, too, of the lithe,broad-shouldered young American whose eyes could be so tender and againso hard. Why was it he persisted in filling her mind so much of thetime? Why did she both admire him and resent his conduct, trust him tothe limit one hour and distrust the next? Why was it that he--anunassuming American without any heroics--rather than her affianced loverseemed to radiate romance as he moved? She liked Manuel very much, sherespected him greatly, trusted him wholly, but--it was this curly-headedyouth of her mother's race that set her heart beating fast a dozen timesa day.
She resolved resolutely to put him out of her mind. Had he not provedhimself unworthy by turning the head of Juanita, whom he could notpossibly expect to marry? Was not Manuel in every way worthy of herlove? Her finger touched the diamond ring upon her hand. She would keepfaith in thought as well as in word and deed.
At last she fell asleep--and dreamed of a blond, gray-eyed youthfighting for his life against a swarm of attacking Mexicans.
A Daughter of the Dons: A Story of New Mexico Today Page 19