CHAPTER XVI.

THE DRESSING-CLOSET OF IGNEZ.

During these proceedings, Don Perez had many conferences with the two priests.

Padre Eizagiuerro, the confessor of Ignez, suspected much, but Padre Ugarte, a stern and ascetic enthusiast, suspected, and said more; for he openly inveighed against the simplicity of Don Salvador, in believing all the fine things Pedro said about his relations in Spain, and his ample possessions on the table land of Anahuac, as contrasted with his cupidity on the mole, before he would consent to save the drowning girl's life.

"A seaman! he--a Confederate officer! was such the conduct of either?" exclaimed the Nuncio.

"But he refused, my dear padre, he flatly refused to receive the 2,000 dollars!" urged Moreno, who was too simple and too full of gratitude to suspect Pedro.

"Refuse--ha! ha!"

"Yes."

"Acting all--acting all!" said Ugarte, a sharp observer of men and things.

"But for him, I should to-night have been a poor old childless man," replied Moreno.

Perez and they employed an escribano, who had correspondents in various quarters, and ere long he gathered strange tidings of Pedro. The bishop of Orizaba and the _escribano_, who had been robbed in the Barranca Secca, the mate of the otter-hunter, Hawkshaw, and the keeper of the Posada De San Augustin, with others, were all written to--the strands of evidence being untwisted as a lawyer alone could discover and untwist them; telegraph and railway appliances were all at work; and thus, all unknown to Pedro and Zuares, who were already under the surveillance of the alguazils, a network of evidence was closing round them.

The day had been mild and warm for December--February being the hottest month of the year at Santiago--and Donna Ignez had retired early to her own apartments. All day she had been busy with Donna Erminia, little Donna Paula, and other ladies, in preparing artificial flowers and lanterns for the grand religious festival, which was to be held in the Church of La Campagnia, wherein the Padre Ugarte and Eizagiuerra, the Nuncio, were to officiate, a festival which was looked forward to with the deepest interest by all in Santiago.

Seated before the mirror, with all her fine dark hair floating in rippling masses upon her smooth white shoulders, the girl was lingering, ere she proceeded further to undress, and seemed disposed to muse, and to gaze at the reflection of her own charming figure, while she repeated, re-acted, and reconsidered with a soft, dreamy smile on her lips and in her eyes, all that had passed of late between herself and Pedro; and to think, with a sigh, of what her papa's views might be, when he came to hear that their visitor had adopted the character of an avowed lover--that she was on bad terms with cousin Perez, had well-nigh quarrelled with him, and dismissed him!

These thoughts rather agitated the little beauty, and so immersed was she in them that she did not hear a light step on the gilded balcony outside her window, which was yet partly unclosed, nor did she hear the sash pushed open, as a man cautiously entered her apartment, and stood for a minute surveying her with an expression of admiration, that on this occasion was in no way feigned.

This nocturnal visitor was no other than Pedro, who, in the course of casual conversation, had cunningly discovered from Ignez the locality of her sleeping-place, and who, after supping with Don Salvador, had taken an additional bottle of wine at a taberna with Zuares, and returned to the house on the Alameda. Then, selecting the window of Ignez, he had cast his lasso over the balcony and swung himself up, hand over hand, in a manner which his past nautical experiences rendered easy enough.

He approached slowly and stealthily, dreading an outcry when she discovered him. He had but two ideas. One was to persuade her to elope with him; the other was the hope that she might so far compromise herself that marriage alone could save her honour. Cautious in all his proceedings, he had gathered the lasso in his hand, for to leave it dangling into the street might have attracted attention, and caused premature discovery. Behind one of the poplars in the Alameda, Zuares sat crouching on his hams, and watching like a lynx.

Pedro was within a pace of Ignez when she started, and her dark eyes dilated as she saw his form appear behind her own, reflected in the mirror; but, ere a cry could escape her parting lips, he threw his arms around her, and stifled it with a kiss.

"Pedro--Don Pedro!" she exclaimed, in a voice of agitation and terror.

"Yes, Ignez, 'tis I! _Nina mi alma_--'tis I."

This forecastle phrase, which means literally, "my little honey," by no means reassured her.

"How--what does this mean?" she asked, angrily.

"It means that--that my love, Ignez, can neither tolerate absence nor delay."

"Delay!" she faltered, while gathering up her hair, by which she displayed a very taper waist, and two polished elbows.

"I dread alike the wiles and enmity of your cousin Perez, and that devil of a Padre Eizagiuerro, with many others who dislike me, and I have come hither to-night that we may be separated no more."

"What am I to understand by all this, senor?" asked the girl, with increasing agitation.

"Does not your own heart tell you?" asked Pedro, embracing her.

"_O madre de Dios_--what is all this I hear?" she exclaimed, while flushing and palpitating in his arms, and glancing nervously at the door.

"_Demonio_--I forget what I am about!" muttered Pedro, as he hastened to the door, and softly turned the key.

"Leave me--retire as you came. Leave me, if you hope for pardon--if you would not wish to see me die at your feet, Don Pedro," said Ignez, gathering her energies, and gazing at him with a glance which was very loving and imploring, though there was something in Pedro's aspect now, flushed as he was with wine and presumptuous hopes, that almost terrified her; for his features seemed unusually coarse and swollen, and his eyes wore a very wild expression. "Leave me," she repeated, "or I shall be compelled to cry for aid; my father's room is not very far from this."

Pedro laughed.

"Senora," said he, "you forget that your reputation is at stake if you utter an outcry, and I am thus discovered--so kiss me, and be quiet, will you? Were it known that a man was in your bed-room, even for ten minutes, all Santiago would ring with it to-morrow; and think of the fuss there would be about it on the Alameda. How the Padre Eizagiuerro would raise his eyebrows, and the Padre Ugarte his voice; how Donna Erminia would shrug her white shoulders; and what would old papa Salvador de Moreno say of it? So, my little beauty, my darling Ignez, be quiet pray, for all our sakes. Come, _mi queredita_, sit on my knee, and I shall soon teach you to love me with all your heart."

But Pedro's words--the very picture of shame and exposure which his banter unwittingly portrayed--instead of answering his purpose, fully recalled the young lady to herself, and a sense of her danger.

The regard she bore him in her impulsive breast first filled her eyes with tears of sorrow, that he should dare to act thus, and then they flashed with indignation that Pedro should conceive a scheme so disastrous.

"If you love me, as you say, Don Pedro, I beseech you to retire," she said, sternly.

"It is because I do love you as I say, that I am here," urged Pedro, making another effort to clasp her in his arms.

But she eluded him, and in a voice there was no mistaking--low, subdued, and full of angry determination, she replied:

"Begone, senor, or by the soul of my mother, I shall summon my father, and he always sleeps with fire-arms at hand."

"_Demonio!_ what a little spitfire it is."

At that moment there was a loud knock on the chamber-door.

"Who is there?" asked Ignez, growing deadly pale, and sickening with the thought of the false position in which Pedro had placed her.

"Open, Ignez," said the voice of Don Salvador, "'Tis I, your father."

"What is the matter, senor?" asked Ignez, almost sinking with distress.

"A man has been seen to enter the house!"

"A man!"

"So your cousin Perez tells me." At this name Pedro ground his teeth, and felt for his knife.

"We have searched for him everywhere, save here, and we must assure ourselves that your rooms are safe; open."

"In one moment, dearest papa," replied Ignez, pointing to the window, pale and trembling, her dark eyes flashing, her curved nostrils quivering; but instead of retiring as he had entered, Pedro snatched up his lasso, darted into a little closet, the door of which was open, and concealed himself among the cloaks, dresses, and other garments, which hung from pegs upon the wall.

This was the bath-room of Ignez, and a _brazero_ of lighted charcoal was smouldering on the floor. This seriously incommoded Pedro, who remained ensconced in the little apartment, bitterly repenting the whole adventure, by which his safety was compromised, and his hopes, perhaps, dashed for ever. So he crouched and listened, with his hand on the haft of his knife, ready to spring forth and kill Don Salvador--even Ignez herself, if it were necessary--for whenever he was at bay, or caught in his own toils, the cruel impulses of his savage heart gained their fullest sway.

"I have heard or seen nothing to cause alarm, papa," said Ignez, whose colourless face was closely scanned by Don Perez, as he looked round the apartment and over the balcony.

"It is very odd," said Don Salvador; "but as Perez passed homeward he saw a man enter the house. I will report the affair to the alguazil-mayor, for we have searched everywhere, and can find no trace of the fellow. I am sorry we have disturbed you, my child, when weary, as you must be with your day's work at La Campagnia," he added, while half-cocking his pistols. "But good-night, darling, and pleasant dreams to you."

"We have not searched this closet," said Perez, whose pallor exceeded that of Inez, and her heart seemed to die within her, as he opened the dressing-room door. "Faugh!" he added, "such a smell of charcoal. My dear Ignez, you should be careful with that _brazero_."

He then locked the door.

"Come, Perez," said old Moreno, "Ignez looks pale."

"May I speak with her for one minute, my dear senor, and will you wait for me in the billiard-room?"

"Certainly, my dear boy; but don't stay long," said the old gentleman, as he smilingly retired.

Ignez gazed anxiously, almost with a haggard aspect, at her cousin, and then her eyes wandered furtively towards the door of the fatal closet.

"Ignez," said Perez, trembling in spite of himself.

"Cousin!"

"There is a man in that closet."

Her dismay was now overwhelming, for it was combined with a shame and terror against which even her pure innocence failed to support her.

"Oh, Perez, my cousin, dare you accuse--dare you suspect----"

"I suspect and accuse you of nothing. Oh Ignez! God forbid, though I have suffered much of late. But a villain whom I do suspect has concealed himself for some nefarious purpose in your dressing-closet. On looking in I saw his feet, and he must be got rid of quietly, for not a breath must stain the reputation of you, my dearest Ignez. Leave me to act," continued Perez, as he opened the closet door and cocked a pistol. "Come forth," said he; "you are discovered, Don Pedro. Come forth instantly, and in silence too."

There was no reply, but the body of Pedro was seen extended at length on the floor! He was in a state of exhaustion--overcome by his recent potations at the _taberno_, combined with the noxious fumes of the charcoal from the brazero.

Perez kicked him with his foot, and smiled grimly.

"I told you, my dear cousin, to be careful with that _brazero_. Luckily there is no moon, the night is cloudy, and this carrion may recover his senses in the cool Alameda."

Pale as death, bewildered and terrified, Ignez gazed on the prostrate figure, and on those features which seemed to be convulsed by the throes of death.

Don Perez tied the lasso under the arms of Pedro, and dragging his body to the balcony, after carefully ascertaining that there was no one in the street, with no small exertion (for the lad was slight though wiry) he hoisted the bulky intruder over the iron railing, and lowered him to the ground--not very tenderly, perhaps. He then dropped the lasso after its proprietor, carefully closed and secured the window-sashes, kissed his passive cousin, and bidding her good night, retired.

At that moment the great bell of the church of La Campagnia (which was already beginning to be lighted up with its countless lamps, for the great festival of the morrow) tolled the hour of twelve. Every stroke sounded like a knell in the soul of Ignez, and she burst into tears.

She was guiltless, and he had not suspected her; yet in her innocent heart she felt terrified like one who unwittingly has committed a great crime. Oh, that Padre Eizagiuerro were here, that she might confide it all to him, and solicit his advice!

Was that the man who had so lately poured his daring love speeches into her ears, and who had striven to embrace her--he whom she had seen Perez dragging forth, with an air of such mingled anger and satisfaction--dying or dead?

She dared not peep forth to satisfy the curiosity that consumed her. Had she done so, about one hour after Pedro was lowered over the balcony, she might have seen him walking slowly away, leaning on the arm of Zuares.

The cool night breeze in the open Alameda had revived him; but the fumes of the brazero in that little closet were nearly being the means of cutting short the career of Pedro Barradas, and so saving us, and many others, a vast deal of trouble.

On this night, the sleep of Ignez was far from being a peaceful one.

Perez slept like a dormouse. He was happy, and his first thought in the morning was to open sundry letters and telegrams from Valparaiso.

"Oho, Don Pedro Florez de Serrano!" he exclaimed, "lieutenant of the _Florida_, in the naval service of the States, on his parole of honour, cousin of the Captain-General of Cuba, nephew of the Corregidor of Ciudad Rodrigo, student of Salamanca, and the devil only knows all what more, so we have caught you, have we? _Bueno viva!_"

And the young man, as he drank his coffee and lit a cigar, laughed loudly.

How little could he foresee the awful events of the night that were to follow!