by W. H. Hudson
CHAPTER XXVII
When I woke I did not remember for some moments where I was. Feelingabout me, my hand came in contact with the grass wet with dew. It wasvery dark, only low down in the sky a pale gleam of light gave promise,as I imagined, of coming day. Then recollection flashed upon me, and Isprang up alarmed to my feet, only to discover with inexpressiblerelief that the light I had remarked was in the west, not the east, andproceeded from the young moon just sinking beneath the horizon. Saddlingmy two animals expeditiously, I rode to Peralta's _estancia_, and onarriving there carefully drew the horses into the shadow of a clump oftrees growing on the borders of the ancient, wellnigh obliterated fossor ditch. I then dropped on to the ground so as to listen better forapproaching footsteps, and began waiting for Demetria. It was pastmidnight: not a sound reached me except at intervals the mournful,far-away, reedy note of the little nocturnal cicada that always seemedto be there lamenting the lost fortunes of the house of Peralta. Forupwards of half an hour I remained lying on the ground, growing moreanxious every moment and fearing that Demetria was going to fail me,when I caught a sound like a human whisper. Listening intently, Ifound that it pronounced my name and proceeded from a clump of tallthorn-apples some yards from me.
"Who speaks?" I replied.
The tall, gaunt form of Ramona drew itself up out of the weeds andcautiously approached me. She was shaking with nervous excitement,and had not ventured to come near without speaking for fear of beingmistaken for an enemy and fired at.
"Mother of Heaven!" she exclaimed, as well as her chattering teeth wouldallow her to speak. "I have been so agitated all the evening! Oh, senor,what are we to do now? Your plan was such a good one; when I heard itI knew an angel had flown down and whispered it in your ear. And nowmy mistress will not stir! All her things are ready--clothes, money,jewels; and for the last hour we have been urging her to come out, butnothing will serve. She will not see you, senor."
"Is Don Hilario in the house?"
"No, he is out--could anything have been better? But it is useless,she has lost heart and will not come. She only sits crying in her room,saying that she cannot look on your face again."
"Go and tell her that I am here with the horses waiting for her," Isaid.
"Senor, she knows you are here. Santos watched for you and hastened into inform her of your arrival. Now she has sent me out only to say thatshe cannot meet you, that she thanks you for all you have done, and begsyou to go away and leave her."
I was not greatly surprised at Demetria's reluctance to meet me at thelast moment, but was determined not to leave without first seeing herand trying to change her mind. Securing the horses to a tree, I wentwith Ramona to the house. Stealing in on tiptoe, we found Demetria inthat room where she had received me the evening before in her quaintfinery, lying on the sofa, while old Santos stood by her the pictureof distress. The moment she saw me enter she covered her face with herhands and turned from me. Yet a glance was sufficient to show that withor without her consent everything had been got ready for her flight. Ona chair near her lay a pair of saddle-bags in which her few belongingshad been stowed; a mantilla was drawn half over her head, and by herside was a large woollen shawl, evidently intended to protect heragainst the night air.
"Santos," I said, "go out to the horses under the trees and wait therefor us; and you, Ramona, say good-bye now to your mistress, then leaveus together; for by and by she will recover courage and go with me."
Santos, looking immensely relieved and grateful, though a littlesurprised at my confident tone, was hurrying out when I pointed to thesaddle-bags. He nodded, grinned, and, snatching them up, left the room.Poor old Ramona threw herself on to her knees, sobbing and pouring outfarewell blessings on her mistress, kissing her hands and hair withsorrowful devotion.
When she left us I sat down by Demetria's side, but she would nottakeher hands from her face or speak to me, and only wept hystericallywhen I addressed her. I succeeded at last in getting one of her hands inmine, and then drew her head gently down till it rested on my shoulder.When her sobs began to subside I said:
"Tell me, dear Demetria, have you lost faith in me that you fear totrust yourself with me now?"
"No, no, Richard, it is not that," she faltered. "But I can never lookinto your face again. If you have any compassion for me you will leaveme now."
"What, leave you, Demetria, my sister, to that man--how can youimagine such a thing? Tell me, where is Don Hilario--is he coming backto-night?"
"I know nothing. He may come back at any moment. Leave me, Richard;every minute you remain here increases your danger." Then she attemptedto draw away from me, but I would not release her.
"If you fear his returning to-night, then it is time for you to comewith me," I answered.
"No, no, no, I cannot. All is changed now. It would kill me with shameto look on your face again."
"You shall look on it again many times, Demetria. Do you think thatafter coming here to rescue you out of the coils of that serpent I amgoing to leave you because you are a little timid? Listen, Demetria, Ishall save you from that devil to-night, even if I have to carry youout in my arms. Afterwards we can consider all there is to be done aboutyour father and your property. Perhaps when the poor Colonel is takenout of this sad atmosphere, his health, his reason even, may improve."
"Oh, Richard, are you deceiving me?" she exclaimed, suddenly droppingher hands and gazing full into my face.
"No, I am not deceiving you. And now you will lose all fear, Demetria,for you have looked into my face again and have not been changed tostone."
She turned crimson in a moment; but did not attempt to cover her faceagain, for just then a clatter of hoofs was heard approaching the house.
"Mother of Heaven, save us!" she exclaimed in terror. "It is DonHilario."
I quickly blew out the one candle burning dimly in the room. "Fearnothing," I said. "When all is quiet, after he has gone to his room, wewill make our escape."
She was trembling with apprehension and nestled close to me; while weboth listened intently and heard Don Hilario unsaddle his horse, thengoing softly, whistling to himself, to his room.
"Now he has shut himself up," I said, "and in a few minutes will beasleep. When you think of that man whose persecutions have made yourlife a burden, so that you tremble when he approaches you, do you notfeel glad that I have come to take you away?"
"Richard, I could go willingly with you to-night but for one thing. Doyou think after what has passed that I could ever face your wife?"
"She will know nothing of what has passed, Demetria. It would bedishonourable in me and a cruel injustice to you to speak to her of it.She will welcome you as a dear sister and love you as much as I loveyou. All these doubts and fears troubling you are very unsubstantial andcan be blown away like thistle-down. And now that you have confessed somuch to me, Demetria, I wish to confess also the one thing that troublesmy heart."
"What is it, Richard, tell me?" she said very gently.
"Believe me, Demetria, I never had a suspicion that you loved me. Yourmanner did not show it, otherwise I should have told you long ago allabout my past. I only knew you regarded me as a friend and one you couldtrust. If I have been mistaken all along, Demetria, if you have reallyfelt a passion in your heart, then I shall have to lament bitterly thatI have been the cause of a lasting sorrow to you. Will you not open yourheart more to me and tell me frankly how it is with you?"
She caressed my hand in silence for a little while, and then answered,"I think you were right, Richard. Perhaps I am not capable of passionlike some women. I felt--I knew that you were my friend. To be nearyou was like sitting in the shade of a green tree in some hot, desolateplace. I thought it would be pleasant to sit there always and forget thebitter years. But, Richard, if you will always be my friend--my brother,I shall be more than content, and my life will seem different."
"Demetria, how happy you have made me! Come, the serpent is sleepingnow, let us steal away and leave him to his evi
l dreams. God grant thatI may return some day to bruise his head with my heel."
Then, wrapping the shawl about her, I led her out, treading softly, andin a few moments we were with Santos, patiently keeping watch beside thehorses.
I gladly let him assist Demetria to her seat on the side-saddle, forthat was perhaps the last personal service he would be able to renderher. The poor old fellow was crying, I believe, his utterance was sohusky. Before leaving I gave him on a scrap of paper my address inMontevideo, and bade him take it to Don Florentino Blanco with a requestto write me a letter in the course of the next two or three days toinform me of Don Hilario's movements. We then trotted softly away overthe sward, and in about half an hour struck the road leading from Rochato Montevideo. This we followed till daylight, scarcely pausing oncefrom our swift gallop, and a hundred times during that dark ride overa country utterly unknown to me I blessed the little witch Cleta; fornever was there a more steady, sure-footed beast than the ugly roan thatcarried my companion, and when we drew rein in the pale morning lighthe seemed fresh as when we started. We then left the highway and rodeacross country in a north-westerly direction for a distance of eight ornine miles, for I was anxious to be far away from public roads and fromthe prying, prating people that use them. About eleven o'clock thatmorning we had breakfast at a _rancho,_ then rode on again till we cameto a forest of scattered thorn-trees growing on the slopes of a range ofhills. It was a wild, secluded spot, with water and good pasturage forthe horses and pleasant shade for ourselves; so, after unsaddling andturning loose our horses to feed, we sat down to rest under a largetree with our backs against its portly trunk. From our shady retreat wecommanded a splendid view of the country over which we had been ridingall the morning, extending for many leagues behind us, and while Ismoked my cigar I talked to my companion, calling her attention to thebeauty of that wide, sunlit prospect.
"Do you know, Demetria," I said, "when the long winter eveningscome, and I have plenty of leisure, I intend writing a history of mywanderings in the Banda Oriental, and I will call my book _The PurpleLand;_ for what more suitable name can one find for a country so stainedwith the blood of her children? You will never read it, of course, for Ishall write it in English, and only for the pleasure it will give tomy own children--if I ever have any--at some distant date, when theirlittle moral and intellectual stomachs are prepared for other foodthan milk. But you will have a very important place in my narrative,Demetria, for during these last days we have been very much to eachother. And perhaps the very last chapter will recount this wild rideof ours together, flying from that evil genius Hilario to some blessedrefuge far away beyond the hills and woods and the blue line of thehorizon. For when we reach the capital I believe--I think--I know, infact--"
I hesitated to tell her that it would probably be necessary for me toleave the country immediately, but she did not encourage me to go on,and, glancing round, I discovered that she was fast asleep.
Poor Demetria, she had been dreadfully nervous all night and almostafraid to stop to rest anywhere, but now her fatigue had quite overcomeher. Her position against the tree was uncomfortable and insecure, so,drawing her head very gently down until it rested on my shoulder, andshading her eyes with her mantilla, I let her sleep on. Her face lookedstrangely worn and pallid in that keen noonday light, and, gazing onit while she slumbered, and remembering all the dark years of grief andanxiety she had endured down to that last pain of which I had been theinnocent cause, I felt my eyes grow dim with compassion.
After sleeping for about two hours she woke with a start, and wasgreatly distressed to learn that I had been supporting her all thattime. But after that refreshing slumber a change seemed to come overher. Not only her great fatigue, but the tormenting apprehensions hadvery nearly vanished. Out of the nettle Danger she had plucked theflower Safety, and now she could rejoice in its possession and wasfilled with new life and spirits. The unaccustomed freedom and exercise,with constant change of scene, also had an exhilarating effect on mindand body. A new colour came into her pale cheeks; the purple stainstelling of anxious days and sleepless nights faded away; she smiledbrightly and was full of animation, so that on that long journey,whether resting in the noonday shade or swiftly cantering over the greenturf, I could not have had a more agreeable companion than Demetria.This change in her often made me remember Santos' pathetic words when hetold of the ravages of grief, and said that another life would make hismistress a "flower amongst women." It was a comfort that her affectionfor me had been, indeed, nothing but affection. But what was I to dowith her in the end? for I knew that my wife was most anxious to returnwithout further delay to her own country; and yet it seemed to methat it would be a hard thing to leave poor Demetria behind amongststrangers. Finding her so improved in spirits, I at length ventured tospeak to her on the subject. At first she was depressed, but presently,recovering courage, she begged to be allowed to go with us to BuenosAyres. The prospect of being left alone was unendurable to her, for inMontevideo she had no personal friends, while the political friendsof her family were all out of the country, or living in very closeretirement. Across the water she would be with friends and safe for aseason from her dreaded enemy. This proposal seemed a very sensible one,and relieved my mind very much, although it only served to remove mydifficulty for a time.
In the department of Camelones, about six leagues from Montevideo, Ifound the house of a fellow-countryman named Barker, who had lived formany years in the country and had a wife and children. We arrived inthe afternoon at his estancia, and, seeing that Demetria was very muchknocked up with our long journey, I asked Mr. Barker to give us shelterfor the night. Our host was very kind and pleasant with us, asking nodisagreeable questions, and after a few hours' acquaintance, which madeus quite intimate, I took him aside and told him Demetria's history,whereupon, like the good-hearted fellow he was, he at once offered toshelter her in his house until matters could be arranged in Montevideo,an offer which was joyfully accepted.