The Ne'er-Do-Well

by Rex Beach

  XX

  AN AWAKENING

  He was in no more satisfactory frame of mind when, on the nextafternoon, he shouldered his gun and set out for the country. He wentdirectly to the fairy pool, and waited there in a very fever ofanxiety. Despite the coolness and peace of the place, he felt hispulses throb and his face burn. If she came, it would mean everythingto him. If she stayed away-why, then he would have to believe that,after all, the real Gertrudis Garavel had spoken last night at theopera, and that the sprightly, mirthful little maid who had bewitchedhim on their first meeting no longer existed. An odd bashfulnessovertook him. It did not seem to him that it could possibly have beenhe who had talked to her so boldly only the evening before. At thethought of his temerity he felt almost inclined to flee, yet he wouldnot have deserted his post for worlds. The sound of a voice shotthrough his troubled thoughts like a beam of sunlight through a darkroom.

  "Oh, Senor Antonio! How you startled me!"

  Instantly his self-possession came back. He felt relieved and gay.

  "Good-afternoon, queen!" He rose and bowed politely. "I thought I sawone underneath the waterfall just now."

  "Who would have expected you to be here?" she cried, with an extremeand obviously counterfeit amazement that filled him with delight.

  "I'm lost," he declared; then, after one look into her eyes, he added,"Absolutely, utterly, irretrievably lost."

  "It is very fortunate that I chanced to be passing, for this is alonely spot; nobody ever comes here."

  "Well, I hardly ever lose myself in busy places. Won't you sit down?"

  "Since we have met quite by accident, perhaps it would not be so veryimproper," She laughed mischievously.

  "You know I've been lost now for several months. It's a delightfulfeeling-you ought to try it."

  She settled uncertainly beside him like a butterfly just alighting,ready to take flight again, on the instant.

  "Perhaps I can help you to find your way, senor?" she said, withingenuous politeness.

  "You are the only one who can, Miss Garavel. I don't know that I evertold you, but I'm in love."

  "Indeed?"

  "I am the most miserably happy person in the world, for I have justthis moment begun to believe that the young lady likes me a little bit."

  "Oh! But I forgot the real reason why I came. I have something I musttell you."

  "All right. But honestly now, didn't you WANT to come?"

  She turned upon him in a little burst of passion. "Yes!" she cried. "Ofcourse I did! I wished to come, madly, senor. There is no use to lie.But wait! It is wholly because I am a-what you call fleert-a very sadfleert." No one could possibly describe the quaint pronunciation shegave the word. "It makes my heart patter, like that"--she made herlittle fingers "patter"-"to be wooed even by a Yankee. But I do notlove you in the least. Oh no! Even if I wished to do so, there are toomany reasons why I could not, and when I explain you will understand."

  "I know; it's Ramon Alfarez. You're half-way engaged to him--but youknow you don't love him."

  "Ah! It is not too sure. He is of fine family, he is rich, he ishandsome-not possibly could I care for any man who was not all ofthose. All my life I have thought him a very sweet gentleman, and for along time it has been agreed that I should be his wife. Even all theyoung ladies are furious at me, which is very nice also-so it is onlybecause I am disobedient that I rebelled. But I was punished for myevil disposition." She sighed mournfully. "And now it is all arrangedonce more."

  "Is it really signed, sealed, stamped, and delivered in the presenceof?"

  "No, no; but 'Arco siempre armado'-"

  "Of course. Is that a prescription?"

  '"A bow long bent grows weak.' And there are so many reasons why Ishould say yes."

  "You haven't mentioned any that would be binding in law."

  "My father's wish. Is not that sufficient?"

  "You disregarded that once."

  "That was but a flutter. All the time I knew I should be Ramon's wifewhen the time arrived. But it made him so unhappy that I was quitepleased. Only for those ugly blue dresses, I would have greatly enjoyedmy penance. Perhaps I could refuse to wed a man my father chose for me,but no nice Spanish girl would dare to wed a man her father did notlike. Do you see?"

  "But it's no cinch your father won't positively hunger for me, once weget chummy."

  "And I for Ramon? How sad that would be, eh?"

  "Really, now, couldn't you bring yourself to marry a chap who wasn'taristocratic, rich, and handsome? You know that's a tough combination.Most aristocratic people are poor, and the rich ones have dyspepsia."

  "Oh no! I am quite certain."

  "Suppose I should show you a family tree that you couldn't throw astone over?"

  "It would not do at all. I am so extravagant."

  "I fully intend to be rich, some time."

  "But you are not handsome, senor." Her eyes travelled over him with amischievous twinkle. "You are too beeg."

  "I'm very durable; I'd last a long time."

  She shook her dark head decisively, and he saw the lights that rippledin her profuse crown of hair.

  "You are too different, you disregard our customs, you are bold. Youcontinue to come here against my wishes, which no Spanish gentlemanwould dare to do."

  "Oh, I'm no Spanish gentleman. I'm just an emotional blond; but I'mbound to marry you."

  "If one of my countrymen found me so indiscreet as to talk with himalone like this, he would go away and never come back. I am amazed atyou, senor. Have you no pride?"

  "Not a bit; and now that I have met all your objections, let's arrangethe details. Shall it be a church wedding?"

  She laughed deliciously. "What a nice game it is we have played! Butnow I must talk seriously."

  "You witch!" he breathed. "Do you think I could ever give you up?"

  She checked him gravely. "Truly, it was just a game--and yet it was notaltogether so, either. But here is what I came to say. The strangestthing has happened-not until last night after the opera did I evendream of it, and-even now I cannot believe. Oh, I am so proud!"

  "More bad news for me, I suppose."

  "Yes. But such good news for me that I am sure you will be glad."Timidly he reached out and touched a fold of her white dress. Sheseemed to be slipping from him. "Coming home from the theatre my fathertold me-oh, the most wonderful thing! He said-but how shall I speak ofsuch a secret?"

  "Evidently you don't intend to."

  "I promised very faithfully not to tell, so-he is to be the nextPresident of Panama."

  "Pres--" Anthony stared at her in frank amazement. "Why, I thought oldman Alfarez--"

  "It seems your country does not like him because he hatesAmericans-see? This is the work of that Mr. Cortlandt. Think! Is it notwonderful? Now that you know the truth, you must see at once that by nomeans could I marry to a person like you."

  "Why not?"

  "Ohe! Don't you understand? I shall be the finest lady in the Republic.All men will adore me. I will have suitors-not one or two as now, butmany. I will be 'the beautiful Senorita Garavel,' for all the greatpeople are beautiful. I shall be proud, also, and I shall not evenspeak to Yankees any more. My father will be the most famous man of allthe Republic-perhaps in the whole world, I don't know."

  "I don't think it will make any difference with him when he knows who Iam."

  "Then you also are a great man, eh?" She hitched herself about, to facehim more squarely. "That is truly interesting. He would scarcely wish arailroad conductor to address the daughter of President Garavel."

  "Oh, I've been promoted since I was out here last. Anyhow, I guess mydad is pretty nearly as good as anybody in Panama."

  "He is, then, of blue blood?"

  "No! Red."

  "Oh, but a gentleman!"

  "He is now. He used to be a brakeman."

  "You appear to be-proud of such a thing! How strange! My father's bloodruns back to the conquistadors; even in the earliest books one findsGaravels.
They were conquerors, they ruled this country and all thesepeople."

  "That's something to be proud of, but it isn't everything. High-bredhorses run well, but they can't pull. It's the old farm nag thatdelivers the merchandise. But I'll tackle your father, and I'll promiseto vote for him."

  "You are very fonny." She gazed at him seriously, one tiny foot curledunder her, her chin nestling into her palm.

  "Do you love me?"

  "Not one single speck. I merely like you to make love at me and causemy heart to jomp! But that is not fair to you, is it?-since you canhave no hope."

  The little hypocrite continued to voice words of warning and denial,though her eyes invited him, and for a long time they continued thisdelightful play of pleading and evasion. But at last Chiquita jumped upwith a great appearance of alarm.

  "Heavens! the time," she cried. "I have stayed too long by much.Stephanie will miss me."

  He rose and stretched out his hand as if to hold her.

  "Shall I come again to-morrow?"

  She grew suddenly earnest.

  "No, no, senor. That is something you should not ask. If ever we are tomeet again, it must be with my father's consent. Please! Do not urge,for truly I would have to refuse." She let her palm rest in his aninstant, and her cheek went scarlet as he pressed it to his lips. Thenshe said: "Go, Mr. Brazen One. How greatly it surprised me to find youhere I cannot say. It gave me such a start! And, Senor Antonio--myfather may be found any day at his bank." Before he could detain hershe was gone, flitting up the path with just one flashing smile ofmischief over her shoulder.

  Anthony went home with his head in the clouds. All his doubts were nowat rest; for while Chiquita had stubbornly denied him allencouragement, he felt sure that her heart had answered. It was in thehighest spirits, therefore, that he opened a letter he found awaitinghim, and read as follows:

  DEAR KIRK,--I hope you are heartily sick of yourself and ready to dosomething decent for a change. Knowing your aristocratic habits as Ido, I realize you must owe a lot of money by this time, and your newfriends must be getting tired of you. I have been expecting you to drawon me daily, and am taking this occasion to warn you in your ownexpensively acquired college English that "THERE IS NOTHINGDOING"--except upon one condition. If you will agree to behave yourselfin future, I will pay your debts, send you West, and give you a job asoperator at forty dollars a month. BUT--you will go where I send you,and you will stay where you are put. I will do the thinking for both ofus and judge of your associates. Maybe if you prove to be any good atall, I will arrange with the police to let you spend your vacations in"that dear New York," which still shows signs of your red--paint brush.I would be pleased to have an apology by return mail, so that I maymeet you in New Orleans and start you off once more on the road todecency and self-respect. You will never be a success at anything, butI am always ready to do my duty. This is my last offer, and if yourefuse you may distinctly and definitely go to the devil. As ever,

  Your loving father, DARWIN K. ANTHONY.

  P.S.--I can get GOOD operators for thirty dollars a month. The extraten dollars is pure sentiment.

  Kirk had known in advance just about what the letter contained, and nowlaughed aloud. It was so like the old gentleman! Why, he could almosthear him dictating it.

  Spurred by his present exhilaration, he wrote an answer, which he readwith a good deal of satisfaction before sealing it up.

  DEAR DAD,-Your affectionate letter, with the kind offer to take chargeof a siding out in the Dakotas, is at hand. I would like to help youalong with your business, but "Upward and onward" is my motto, andyou'll have to raise that salary a bit. I am drawing two hundred andtwenty-five dollars a month at present, quarters furnished andpromotion promised. I have made some good investments, and there are nodebts to settle. Enclosed find my last bank statement, which willdoubtless prove a great disappointment to you.

  If you need a good Master of Transportation, I would be pleased toconsider an offer at any time, provided the salary is satisfactory, butyour proposal to edit my acquaintances is out of the question. Mydecency and self respect are doing well, thank you, and I like theclimate.

  Outside my window a mocking-bird sings nightly, and I have a tamerabbit with ears like a squirrel and baby-blue eyes--also a Jamaicannegro boy who, I fear, could not stand our harsh Northern winters.

  The salary would have to be about six thousand a year. As always,

  Your devoted and obedient son, KIRK.

  P.S.--I would not care to locate farther west than Buffalo. My wifemight not like it.

  "If he survives the first part, that tag line will put him down for thecount," mused the writer, with a grin. "And, yet, something tells me hewill not embrace my offer. Ah, well! Promotion is slow." He whistledblithely as he sent Allan off to the post-office.

  Kirk lost no time in calling at the bank, but was disappointed to learnthat Senor Andres Garavel had left the city for an unexpected businesstour of the Provinces and would not return for at least two weeks. Atfirst he was inclined to doubt the truth of this statement, but acasual inquiry from Mrs. Cortlandt confirmed it, and, cursing his luck,he sought distraction where he could most easily find it.

  In the days that followed he saw nothing of Gertrudis, but a good dealof Edith Cortlandt. She had redeemed her promise of getting him a goodhorse-something rare in this country-and he was grateful for theexercise, which came as a welcome relief from his indoor toil. Theyrode almost daily; he dined at her house, and once again made one ofher party at the opera. Soon their old friendly intercourse was goingon as if it had never been interrupted.

  As for Edith, this unsatisfying, semi-public intimacy came to be quiteas much a pain as a pleasure to her. During these past few weeks shehad been plunged in a mental turmoil, the signs of which she hadconcealed with difficulty. She had fought with herself; she had triedto reason; she had marshalled her pride, but all in vain. At last sheawoke to the terrifying certainty that she was in love. It had allbegun with that moment of impulsive surrender at Taboga. The nightfollowing had been terrible to her. In its dark hours she had seen hersoul for the first time, and the glimpse she got frightened her.Following this, she became furious with herself, then resentful towardAnthony; next she grew desperate and reckless.

  She began to look upon her husband with a quickened curiosity, andfound him a stranger. For years she had made allowance for hisweaknesses, ignoring them as she ignored his virtues; but never beforehad he appeared so colorless, so insignificant, above all so alien. Shehad barely tolerated him hitherto, but now she began to despise him.

  If Cortlandt was aware of her change of feeling and its cause, hismethod of dealing with her showed some keenness. Silent contempt waswhat she could least endure from him of all men; yet this was just whathis manner toward her expressed-if it expressed anything. Beyond thosewords as they were leaving the island, he had said nothing, had neverreferred to the incident, had not so much as mentioned Anthony's nameunless forced to do so, and this offended her unreasonably. She caughthim regarding her strangely at times with a curious, falteringexpression, but he was so icy in his reserve, he yielded so easily toher predominance, that she could divine nothing and turned the morefiercely to her inward struggle. Even if he did suspect, what then? Itwas no affair of his; she was her own mistress. She had given him allhe possessed, she had made a man of him. He was her creature, and hadno rights beyond what she chose to give. They saw less and less of eachother. He became more formal, more respectfully unhusbandlike. He spentfew daylight hours in the house, coming and going as he pleased,frequenting the few clubs of the city, or riding alone. On more thanone occasion he met her and Anthony on their horses. Only beforeothers, or at their frequent political councils, were they quite thesame as they had been.

  Of Anthony, on the other hand, she arranged to see more than ever,flattering him by a new deference in her manner, making him feel alwaysat ease with her, watching him vainly for the least sign of awakeningdesire. In their frequent rides they
covered most of the roads aboutthe city, even to the ruins of old Panama. Then they began to explorethe by-paths and trails.

  One afternoon they turned into an unfrequented road that led off to thejungle from the main highway, walking their horses while they marvelledat the beauty of the foliage. The trail they knew led to a coffeeplantation far up among the hills, but it was so little travelled thatthe verdure brushed them as they went, and in many places they passedbeneath a roof of branches. Before they had penetrated a quarter of amile they were in the midst of an unbroken solitude, shut off from theworld by a riotous glory of green, yellow, and crimson. They had notspoken for a long time, and were feeling quite content with thepleasant monotony of--their journey, when they burst out into a rockyglen where a spring of clear water bubbled forth. With a common impulsethey reined in; Twenty feet farther on the trail twisted into thescreen of verdure and was lost.

  "What a discovery!" exclaimed Edith. "Help me down, please, I'm goingto drink."

  Kirk dismounted and lent her a hand; the horses snorted appreciatively,and stepping forward, thrust their soft muzzles eagerly into thestream, then fell to browsing upon the tender leaves at their shoulders.

  Edith quenched her thirst, shook the cramp from her limbs, and said:"Some time we will have to see where this road leads. There may be moresurprises beyond." She broke a flower from its stem and fastened it inKirk's buttonhole, while he gazed down at her with friendly eyes.

  "You're looking awfully well lately," he declared.

  Glancing up, she met his gaze and held it for an instant. "It's theopen air and the exercise. I enjoy these rides with you more than I cansay." Something in her look gave him a little thrill of embarrassment.

  "I think I'll give Marquis and Gyp their dessert," he said, and,turning aside, began to gather a handful of the greenest leaves. Theinstant his eyes were off her, she took the horses by their bridles,swung them about, and with a sharp blow of her riding-crop sent themsnorting and clattering down the trail. Kirk wheeled barely in time tosee them disappearing.

  "Here!" he cried, sharply. "What are you doing?"

  "They bolted."

  "They'll hike straight for town. Now I'll have to chase--" He glancedat her sharply. "Say, why did you do that?"

  "Because I wanted to. Isn't that reason enough?" Her eyes were recklessand her lips white.

  "You shouldn't do a thing like that!" he cried, gruffly. "It's foolish.Now I'll have to run them down."

  "Oh, you can't catch them."

  "Well, I'll have a try at it, anyhow." He tossed away his handful ofleaves.

  "Silly! I did it because I wanted to talk with you."

  "Well, those horses wouldn't overhear."

  "Don't be angry, Kirk. I haven't seen you alone since that night."

  "Taboga?" he said, guiltily. "You're not going to lecture me again? I'msorry enough as it is." Never in all his life had he felt moreuncomfortable. He could not bring himself to meet her gaze, feelingthat his own face must be on fire.

  "What a queer chap you are! Am I so unattractive that you really wantto rush off after those horses?" He said nothing, and she went on aftera moment of hesitation: "I have known men who would have thought it aprivilege to be left alone with me like this."

  "I--have no doubt."

  "You remember, for instance, I told you there was one man at Tabogawhom I did not wish to see?"

  "Yes--at the sanitarium."

  "Well, something like this happened once--with him--and I told Stephen."

  "And did you tell Mr. Cortlandt what I did?"

  "Do you think I would have come riding with you if I had?" She shookher head. "Kirk, I used to think you were an unusually forward youngman, but you're not very worldly, are you?"

  "N-no--yes! I guess I'm as wise as most fellows."

  "Sometimes I think you are very stupid."

  He began firmly: "See here, Mrs. Cortlandt, you have been mighty goodto me, and I'm indebted to you and your husband for a whole lot. I amterribly fond of you both."

  She clipped a crimson bloom from its stem with a vicious blow of hercrop, then, with eyes fixed upon the fallen flower, broke the awkwardpause that followed.

  "I suppose," she said, half defiantly, "you know how things are withStephen and me--everybody must know, I suppose. I have done a lot ofthinking lately, and I have made up my mind that the last appeal ofwhat is right or wrong lies with one's self. I'm not going to care anylonger what the world thinks of my actions so long as my own heartjustifies them. Happiness--that is what I want, and I will have it--Iwill have it at any cost. It is my right. Because a woman marrieswithout love, is it right for her to forego love all her life? I thinknot."

  She looked up, and with a change of tone ran on swiftly: "I havestudied you for a long time, Kirk. I know the sort of man you are. Iknow you better than you know yourself. Very lately I have begun tostudy myself, too, and I know, at last, the sort of woman I am." Shedrew near and laid a hand on each shoulder, forcing him to lookstraight into her eyes. "I am not like most women; I can't do things byhalves; I can't temporize with vital things; I prefer to experiment,even blindly. I used to think I was born to rule, but I think now thata woman's only happiness lies in serving; and I used to believe I wascontented, when all the time I was waiting for something and didn'tknow it. Don't be silly now; you're just like every other man."

  "I can't pretend to misunderstand you, although--Listen!" He cut hiswords short. "Here comes some one."

  She turned her head, as from the direction their mounts had taken camethe sound of approaching hoots.

  "Natives from the hills." She nodded carelessly toward the purplemountains back of them. But the next moment she gave a little gasp ofconsternation. Out from the overhung path, with a great rustling ofleaves, came, not the expected flea-bitten Panama horse, but a familiarbay, astride of which was Stephen Cortlandt. He was leading Marquis andGyp by their bridles, and reined in at sight of his wife and hercompanion.

  "Hello!" he said. "I caught your horses for you."

  "Jove! That's lucky!" Kirk greeted the husband's arrival with genuinerelief. "They bolted when we got down to take a drink, and we weregetting ready for a long walk. Thanks, awfully."

  "No trouble at all. I saw them as they came out on the main road."Cortlandt's pigskin saddle creaked as he bent forward to deliver thereins. He was as cool and immaculate as ever. He met Edith's eyeswithout the slightest expression. "Nice afternoon for a ride."

  "If I had known you were riding to-day you might have come with us,"she said.

  He smiled in his wintry fashion, then scanned the surroundingsappreciatively.

  "Pretty spot, isn't it? If you are going back, I'll ride with you."

  "Good enough. May I give you a hand, Mrs. Cortlandt?" Kirk helped Edithto her seat, at which her husband bowed his thanks. Then the three setout in single file.

  "Which way?" inquired Stephen as they reached the highroad.

  "Back to town, I think," Edith told him, "And you?"

  "I'm not ready yet. See you later." He raised his hat and canteredeasily away, while the other two turned their horses' heads toward thecity.