For the Soul of Rafael Part 6

Dona Luisa did not commit herself; yet she realized that Raquel Estevan might have a few battles to fight along the line of race, as well as against the Americanos; for of course Rafael was a favorite; of course there would be burning hearts and jealousy at first.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KEITH BRYTON]

[Music: _Esta Noche_]

Esta noche voy a verte, Al otro lado del rio Te encargo que estes despierta ay!

Para quando te haga (_se silva_) Ay! Paloma, daca el pico De ese rico manantial, Ay! Paloma, daca el pico De ese rico manantial!

[Music]

CHAPTER IV

From Las Flores, where the Indian village still held together in a s.h.i.+ftless sort of way, Raquel Estevan and her friend Ana Mendez galloped north mile on mile over the mesa above the sea.

"Art never tired, Raquel?" demanded the older and darker of the two as they halted to let their animals drink where a rivulet ran full from the foothills. "Since we left the ranch house thou hast never lessened the gallop."

"Tired? I should shame to acknowledge that, when Dona Luisa never rests on the way. She endures it all, while only the young ones complain."

"Endures! What would she not endure for her beloved Rafael--now your beloved Rafael?"

Ana was not malicious, but there was a touch of mockery in her tone and questioning glance.

"Why should he not be beloved?" asked the other, smoothing carefully the mane of her horse and bending low to conceal the slight flush of cheek. "Is he not handsome and good?"

"It is not easy to be good when a man is so handsome," laughed Ana; "still, I will take your word for it! But, Raquel, you always get clear of the question; not once have you said that you find him beloved. Are you going to be coquette to the wedding-day?"

"You talk to amuse yourself," and the violet dark eyes were lifted an instant. "You learn to coquette when you marry, and cannot forget; but the nuns never teach us that."

"What need?" and Ana showed her white teeth in a laugh. "They did not teach us we must breathe to live; yet some way we learned it! But confess! You outride all the party to reach San Juan, and Rafael; yet how are we sure what urges you?"

"My promise."

"But why the promise, if the man is not beloved? You have had no harsh guardian, as I had; you were all free."

"Free? Oh yes, I had always the choice between some husband and the veil of a nun. And then--then Dona Luisa came with her love and her son, and her great plans of good work I could do out in the world. And so--and so we are riding to meet him, and I outride you!"

"I never hasten to trouble," remarked Ana Mendez; "and if we should meet him on the way, you would send me at once to the carriage. I should put in hours listening to the virtues of Rafael Arteaga and peril my soul pretending to agree with his mother."

"Why should you do that?"

"Raquel, do you really see how little the ideas of Don Rafael and his mother agree? I know little enough--thanks to California, which keeps its girls from education; but I do see that every thought of Rafael Arteaga is for the new ways, the ways of the Americano."

The younger girl drew up her horse with a cruel jerk, and faced her friend.

"Anita, beloved," she said, sadly, "you have said the thing I felt, but did not know. Why not let some less dear one tell me?"

"Holy Maria! Who else would? You are going among strangers, but you are no more a stranger to the California of to-day than is Dona Luisa. I hope all the time some one tell you at San Diego, or at San Luis Rey, but no one does; and Rafael does not meet us; and--"

"The letter did not reach him, or else he has gone by boat," said the other, steadily. "Anita, why do you sometimes seem not quite friendly to Rafael? Your words--"

"Never think it!" cried Ana. "We are friends enough, but--I know him better than his mother--that is all! He has turned the heads of many girls, but I do not think he has turned yours, Raquelita!"

The other girl made no reply.

"I do not think so," continued her friend, "because you have never once lost sight of duty,--the duty Dona Luisa and the padre have taught you to see. You are good, Raquel,--when you are not in a temper; but about Rafael you do not think your own thoughts. You dream of the life of your father and Dona Luisa when all this land was theirs. But the dream is gone, and to-day we wake up."

"I see--the old world was too slow. You wake up to be all Americano--no?"

"Raquel, do you hate them as much as Dona Luisa?"

The girl from Mexico turned her face toward the sea, and did not answer at once. Then she said:

"Only once in my life have I spoken with an Americano, and I did not hate him."

"A young man?"

"He--he was not old," she confessed.

"On my soul, I believe you have had a lover!" cried Ana. "Oho! you can play Rafael at his own game, after all! Santa Maria! I thought you were too pretty to be the saint they think you. Tell me!"

"There is not anything to tell," said the younger girl, quietly, though the color crept to her cheek; and then after a little she added, "He died. I never saw him but once; the padre said I was wrong to--to--oh, they said things to me about heretics! I never knew any other, and I promised not to. But if he had lived I should not have promised; that is all."

"All! Rafael would think it enough! On my soul, I am glad you are so human--though I have no love myself for heretics!"

"Human!" mused Raquel. "Is it human to remember, when one should forget and cannot?"

She did not say it aloud, and refused to discuss the matter further.

"He is dead," she said; "Rafael cannot be jealous of a man I saw but once; it was only the dream of a girl--like a picture in a book--and the page is closed. I shall marry Rafael, and work in the world instead of in the convent. It is for Mother Church and--it is right!"

At San Onofre the surf was breaking against the cliffs. It was high tide, and the beach road was deep enough for a horse to swim. Raquel had ridden far ahead, and now stood on the brink of a torrent cutting its way down from the hills to the sea.

The girl glanced back at the swaying chariot-like carriage on a far hill, and wondered what would be expected of their broncos in this crisis.

The animal she herself rode danced and fretted with fright at the roar of the surf and the dash of the hill stream, but she sat the saddle with ease, answering to every curve or side leap as lightly as a gull that floated on the incoming wave.

Her face held something of the power suggested by her strong right hand.

The eyes were so soft, yet steady, and of darkest violet. The black lashes touching her cheeks gave them tender shadows, and the hair, in two thick braids reaching to her waist, framed a face of youthful curves and charm. But what was it made every man, and many women, turn to look again at the face of Raquel Estevan?

Many girls were as beautiful, but something beyond the beauty of feature or color was in her strange half-Egyptian face,--a certain barbaric note held in check by the steady eyes and the mouth firm yet tender. It was a mouth made for love; yet--was it the shadow of the dark veil she had so nearly worn? Was it a hint of regret for the cloistered life left behind? Or was it the shadow of some future--a prophecy of the years to come?

Ana paused at the edge of the stream, in terror at the volume of water barring their way on every side.

"Ai! ai! And Aunt Jacoba but a moment ago declaring that she will have her supper in the refectory of the San Juan Mission. Neither Mission nor supper can we see this night--and no Rafael!"