The Rifle Rangers Part 18

"Oh! name it, Captain; name it!" cried he, while at the word "hope" the ladies had rushed forward, and stood clinging around me.

"There is a Spanish s.h.i.+p of war lying under the walls of Vera Cruz."

"We know it--we know it!" replied Don Cosme eagerly.

"Ah! you know it, then?"

"Oh, yes!" said Guadalupe. "Don Santiago is on board of her."

"Don Santiago?" inquired I; "who is he?"

"He is a relation of ours, Captain," said Don Cosme; "an officer in the Spanish navy."

This information pained me, although I scarcely knew why.

"You have a friend, then, aboard the Spanish s.h.i.+p," said I to the elder of the sisters. "'Tis well; it will be in his power to restore to you your brother."

A ring of brightening faces was around me while I uttered these cheering words; and Don Cosme, grasping me by the hand, entreated me to proceed.

"This Spanish s.h.i.+p," I continued, "is still allowed to keep up a communication with the town. You should proceed aboard at once, and by the a.s.sistance of this friend you may bring away your son before the bombardment commences. I see no difficulty; our batteries are not yet formed."

"I will go this instant!" said Don Cosme, leaping to his feet, while Dona Joaquina and her daughters ran out to make preparations for his journey.

Hope--sweet hope--was again in the ascendant.

"But how, Senor?" asked Don Cosme, as soon as they were gone; "how can I pa.s.s your lines? Shall I be permitted to reach the s.h.i.+p?"

"It will be necessary for me to accompany you, Don Cosme," I replied; "and I regret exceedingly that my duty will not permit me to return with you at once."

"Oh, Senor!" exclaimed the Spaniard, with a painful expression.

"My business here," continued I, "is to procure pack-mules for the American army."

"Mules?"

"Yes. We were crossing for that purpose to a plain on the other side of the woods, where we had observed some animals of that description."

"'Tis true, Captain; there are a hundred or more; they are mine--take them all!"

"But it is our intention to pay for them, Don Cosme. The major here has the power to contract with you."

"As you please, gentlemen; but you will then return this way, and proceed to your camp?"

"As soon as possible," I replied. "How far distant is this plain?"

"Not more than a league. I would go with you, but--" Here Don Cosme hesitated, and, approaching, said in a low tone: "The truth is, Senor Capitan, I should be glad if you could take them _without my consent_.

I have mixed but little in the politics of this country; but Santa Anna is my enemy--he will ask no better motive for despoiling me."

"I understand you," said I. "Then, Don Cosme, we will take your mules by force, and carry yourself a prisoner to the American camp--a Yankee return for your hospitality."

"It is good," replied the Spaniard, with a smile.

"Senor Capitan," continued he, "you are without a sword. Will you favour me by accepting this?"

Don Cosme held out to me a rapier of Toledo steel, with a golden scabbard richly chased, and bearing on its hilt the eagle and nopal of Mexico.

"It is a family relic, and once belonged to the brave Guadalupe Victoria."

"Ha! indeed!" I exclaimed, taking the sword; "I shall value it much.

Thanks, Senor! thanks! Now, Major, we are ready to proceed."

"A gla.s.s of maraschino, gentlemen?" said Don Cosme, as a servant appeared with a flask and gla.s.ses. "Thank you--yes," grunted the major; "and while we are drinking it, Senor Don, let me give you a hint. You appear to have plenty of _pewter_." Here the major significantly touched a gold sugar-dish, which the servant was carrying upon a tray of chased silver. "Take my word for it, you can't bury it too soon."

"It is true, Don Cosme," said I, translating to him the major's advice.

"We are not French, but there are robbers who hang on the skirts of every army."

Don Cosme promised to follow the hint with alacrity, and we prepared to take our departure from the rancho.

"I will give you a guide, Senor Capitan; you will find my people with the _mulada_. Please _compel_ them to la.s.so the cattle for you. You will obtain what you want in the corral. _Adios, Senores_!"

"Farewell, Don Cosme!"

"_A dios, Capitan! adios! adios_!"

I held out my hand to the younger of the girls, who instantly caught it and pressed it to her lips. It was the action of a child. Guadalupe followed the example of her sister, but evidently with a degree of reserve. What, then, should have caused this difference in their manner?

In the next moment we were ascending the stairway.

"Lucky dog!" growled the major. "Take a ducking myself for that."

"Both beautiful, by Jove!" said Clayley; "but of all the women I ever saw, give me `Mary of the Light'!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE SCOUT CONTINUED, WITH A VARIETY OF REFLECTIONS.

Love is a rose growing upon a th.o.r.n.y bramble. There is jealousy in the very first blush of a pa.s.sion. No sooner has a fair face made its impress on the heart than hopes and fears spring up in alternation.

Every action, every word, every look is noted and examined with a jealous scrutiny; and the heart of the lover, changing like the chameleon, takes its hues from the latest sentiment that may have dropped from the loved one's lips. And then the various looks, words, and actions, the favourable with the unfavourable, are recalled, and by a mental process cla.s.sified and marshalled against each other, and compared and balanced with as much exact.i.tude as the _pros_ and _contras_ of a miser's bank-book; and in this process we have a new alternation of hopes and fears.

Ah, love! we could write a long history of thy rise and progress; but it is doubtful whether any of our readers would be a jot the wiser for it.

Most of them ere this have read that history in their own hearts.

I felt and knew that I was in love. It had come like a thought, as it comes upon all men whose souls are attuned to vibrate under the mystical impressions of the beautiful. And well I knew _she_ was beautiful. I saw its unfailing index in those oval developments--the index, too, of the intellectual; for experience had taught me that _intellect takes a shape_; and that those peculiarities of form that we admire, without knowing why, are but the material ill.u.s.trations of the diviner principles of mind.

The eye, too, with its almond outline, and wild, half-Indian, half Arab expression--the dark tracery over the lip, so rarely seen in the lineaments of her s.e.x--even these were attractions. There was something picturesque, something strange, something almost fierce, in her aspect; and yet it was this indefinable something, this very fierceness, that had challenged my love. For I must confess mine is not one of those curious natures that I have read of, whose love is based only upon the goodness of the object. That _is not love_.