The Fourth Estate Volume I Part 30

"Never."

"Very well, uncle--I do not love Cecilia."

"You do not love Cecilia?" exclaimed the old gentleman in horror.

It must be said that Don Melchor had a blind affection, almost adoration, for his nephew's betrothed--the girl was sacred to him. From the time that he knew Gonzalo's affections were set in that quarter he inspected her as carefully as if he were examining the hulk of a s.h.i.+p before masting her. He had considered her kind, quiet, intelligent, and capable, and his delight at the marriage was only embittered by hearing that the engaged couple were not going to live with him.

He seldom visited Belinchon's house, but when he met the girl in the street he made a point of stopping her and treating her with exceptional courtesy and attention.

"You do not love her?" he repeated. "And why don't you love her, you dunderhead?"

"I don't know. I have made superhuman efforts to love her, and I have not succeeded."

"And you have just found that out--a month before your marriage? Come, Gonzalo, you have got a screw loose."

"It is shameful--I grant it--but I can't resign myself to being unhappy for life."

"Unhappy! And you call it unhappiness, you great fool, to marry the nicest and prettiest girl in Sarrio, for no other can hold a candle to her."

Gonzalo could not forbear smiling.

"Cecilia is a good girl, and worthy of marrying a better man than I am, but pretty, uncle--"

"Pretty, yes, pretty, you fool!" exclaimed the Senor de las Cuevas in a rage; "you would find fault with an angel."

Surprising as the statement may be, the old man was at that time of life when one is more impressed by the poetry of womanhood, seen in exquisite sensibility, resignation, sweetness, and self-sacrifice, than by the ephemeral physical charms before which impetuous youth is so p.r.o.ne to fall captive.

"Do not let us quarrel about it."

"But we will quarrel about it--I won't have Cecilia spoken of like that--so there!"

"All right; then I'll say that Cecilia is a very pretty girl--but--"

"But what?"

"But I can not love her, because I love another."

"What thousand deviltries are you saying now, boy?" returned Don Melchor, taking his nephew by the arm and shaking him.

"I can not help it, uncle. I am madly in love with her sister, Venturita."

"Are you in your senses or out of them, you madman?"

"I am speaking seriously--I love her, and she loves me."

"And you think that this is all there is to be said?" said the old man, getting more and more angry. "Do you think a solemn promise can be broken in that way? Do you think a girl can be made the laughing-stock of a place like this? Do you think any parents will tolerate such infamous conduct?"

"Uncle," returned Gonzalo quietly, "before daring to tell you this, things have occurred which have made me take this step. My position with Venturita is an established fact; her mother knows it, and has authorized it, and by this time her father has also been made acquainted with the circ.u.mstances."

"And will give his consent?"

"I am sure he will."

Don Melchor dropped his nephew's arm, and raised his hand to his forehead. It was some time before he could speak. At last he said in slow and melancholy tones:

"All right. I am powerless to prevent this disgrace--for it is a disgrace," he added forcibly. "You are of age, and even if you were not I would have nothing to do with such a business."

"Are you angry?"

"There is no use being angry. I am only very sorry. I am sorry for her, for I am very fond of her--and I am still more sorry for you, Gonzalo.

G.o.d can not help the man who breaks his word. You were on a safe s.h.i.+p, well built of white, seasoned wood, with the flats well lined, straight strong masts, and bright and smart rigging; and you leave that to embark in a craft that is prettier and showier. You are making a fine experiment, but take heed, lad, the journey is long, the sea wide and wild; when all the calm and beauty of the present becomes a scene of storm, when the soft winds rise to a hurricane, matters become serious, and pretty decorations and designs are of no avail where timber--good strong timber--is required. Give me good timber and I will take you for miles. It is not much good for a s.h.i.+p to leave a port well dressed if her hulk is not equal to her get up. You know that I liked Cecilia--I am very sorry that I can not say the same of her sister. And this is not speaking against her; I do not know her well enough to do that, neither do I feel inclined to, but I can and I ought to tell you my sentiments although you disregard them."

"Oh, uncle!"

"It does not matter, my boy; when a lad's mind is set upon anything, full sail must be set and he must go before the wind. Everything looks s.h.i.+p-shape--but foul weather comes, and I tell you, you are not navigating your s.h.i.+p well, you are not behaving like a gentleman."

"Uncle!"

"The facts speak for themselves. Even if you have got over her parents, and overcome all difficulties, you can't make black white, and make a bad action good. Heave the anchor and unfurl the sails. I am old, and I hope I shall not live to see the storms overtake you. But if it be G.o.d's will to punish me thus, if for my sins I have to see you s.h.i.+pping water with bare masts, I shall feel, my boy, that it is beyond my power to help you."

At these last words the voice of the old man shook; Gonzalo's heart strings tightened. For some time they were both silent; and then Don Melchor said:

"Come along to supper, Gonzalo."

"I am not hungry now," returned the young man, "but I will come presently."

"Very well. Good-by," said the Senor de las Cuevas sadly, and turning his steps sh.o.r.eward, he was gradually lost in the gloom.

Gonzalo remained where he was, with his eyes fixed on the wall of the mole, against which the sea was quietly was.h.i.+ng. The waves after breaking against the stone wall with a soft, hollow murmur, receded with a sharp sound like that of curtain rings being drawn. The phosphoric brilliance of the foam proved the presence of the millions of beings existing as comfortably in the watery depths as we do on the dry land in spite of their wild career through s.p.a.ce. The monster slept under the dark mantle of night quietly and peacefully, as a child undisturbed by bad dreams. The soft sough of its respiration was hardly audible in the hollows of the rocks.

The black outline of Cape San Lorenzo stretched far out to sea on the west where the revolving white, green, and red lights of the lighthouse at the point were visible. The stars were s.h.i.+ning in the firmament with wondrous power. Jupiter blazed in the heavens like the G.o.d of night piercing the darkness with its golden rays. Suddenly a change came over the scene. The pale crescent of the moon raised its horn in the east over the tranquil water, and irradiated it with a track of light.

Lucifer paled before the serene splendor of the G.o.ddess, whose slow and majestic ascent eclipsed the brilliance of the starry orbs of every size about her. She rose in a radiant splendid atmosphere emitting, diffusing, and disseminating the ambient soft influence of her wondrous presence. And the ocean, ebbing and flowing since the beginning of the world under this same influence, now kindles like a flame of fire; its vast s.h.i.+ning bosom trembles, and it dashes its waters over the rocks of Santa Maria like enormous stratae of mercury, which in their retreat mingle with the incoming waves.

Sublime silence reigned, and a sense of ineffable peace pervaded the scene so old, and yet so new. Nature herself seemed to stop and listen to the eternal harmony of the heavens. The waves softly kissed each other without daring to interrupt the august serenity of the night with any louder sounds.

In spite of the great uneasiness which the conversation with his uncle had caused him, Gonzalo felt the fascination of the sea, the sky, and the moon, and his uneasiness changed to sadness. The severe words of the old sailor had suddenly awakened his conscience, and the struggle between his good and bad angel recommenced. For one moment his good angel nearly conquered. The young man thought he would go to the Belinchons' house, speak to Dona Paula and beg her to say nothing to Cecilia, but hurry on the marriage. However, at that moment Venturita's image came before his mind, and he felt it would be impossible to live near her without suffering horribly. Then, as it nearly always happens in these struggles, there came a sense of the unendurable.

"The best thing to do," he said, "will be to go at once. I will return to France or England, and not marry either. Then there will be no treachery. The injury I have done Cecilia will soon be forgotten. She will find a more worthy husband than I, and when I return at the expiration of a few years I shall probably find her happy, and surrounded with children. But--but to leave Ventura! to leave that being, radiant with happiness! No more to hear that voice that fills my soul with delight! nor to feel the sweet touch of her hand, fresh and soft as a rosebud! To leave her s.h.i.+ning eyes and magnetic smile!--oh, no!"

Drops of perspiration stood upon his forehead. Mortal anguish filled him at the thought of separation, and to overcome the sense of it being definitely settled he said to himself: "We'll see, we'll see. It would be very difficult to go back now--almost impossible. The mother knows about it now. Don Rosendo too, and probably Cecilia also by this time."

The good angel loosened his hold and let go his hands as, spent and defeated, he gave up the struggle. If not with the eyes of the body, Gonzalo could see with those of the spirit, the white form of the good angel pa.s.sing through the serene atmosphere, and vanis.h.i.+ng on the glistening waters.

Then overwhelmed with a strange sadness, he wept. This kind of struggle can never take place in the human soul without upsetting it for some time. To win happiness he had to wound the heart of an innocent girl, break a promise, and be a traitor.

The words of his uncle still echoed in his ears: "G.o.d can not help the man who breaks his word."

And, in fact, he felt himself unworthy of help. A cruel indefinite presentiment of misery, death, and sadness overwhelmed him; and in one moment the awfulness of life without virtue or peace was revealed to him, as to the youth of the legend who embraced a beautiful young woman, and when the light oscillated with the wind, he saw that she was transformed into a hideous, hag-like, bony being.