The Heart\'s Secret
M >>
Maturin Murray >> The Heart\'s Secret
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 This eBook was edited by Charles Aldarondo (www.aldarondo.net).
THE HEART'S SECRET:
OR, THE FORTUNES OF A SOLDIER.
BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
BOSTON:
1852.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE.--The following Novellette was originally published
in the PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION, and is but a specimen of
the many deeply entertaining Tales, and gems of literary merit,
which grace the columns of that elegant and highly popular journal.
The COMPANION embodies a corps of contributors of rare literary
excellence, and is regarded as the ne plus ultra, by its scores of
thousands of readers.
PREFACE.
THE locale of the following story is that gem of the American
Archipelago; the Island of Cuba, whose lone star, now merged in the
sea, is destined yet to sparkle in liberty's hemisphere, and radiate
the light of republicanism. Poetry cannot outdo the fairy-like
loveliness of this tropical clime, and only those who have partaken
of the aromatic sweetness of its fields and shores can fully realize
the delight that may be shared in these low latitudes. A brief
residence upon the island afforded the author the subject-matter for
the following pages, and he has been assiduous in his efforts to
adhere strictly to geographical facts and the truthful belongings of
the island. Trusting that this may prove equally popular with the
author's other numerous tales and novelettes, he has the pleasure of
signing himself,
Very cordially,
THE PUBLIC's HUMBLE SERVANT.
DEDICATED
TO THE READERS OF
GLEASON'S PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION,
FOR WHICH JOURNAL THESE PAGES WERE ORIGINALLY WRITTEN,
BY THEIR VERY HUMBLE SERVANT,
LIEUTENANT MURRAY.
THE HEART'S SECRET.
CHAPTER I.
THE ACCIDENT.
THE soft twilight of the tropics, that loves to linger over the low
latitudes, after the departure of the long summer's day, was
breathing in zephyrs of aromatic sweetness over the shores and
plains of the beautiful Queen of the Antilles. The noise and bustle
of the day had given place to the quiet and gentle influences of the
hour; the slave had laid by his implements of labor, and now stood
at ease, while the sunburnt overseers had put off the air of
vigilance that they had worn all day, and sat or lounged lazily with
their cigars.
Here and there strolled a Montaro from the country, who, having
disposed of his load of fruit, of produce and fowls, was now
preparing to return once more inland, looking, with his long Toledo
blade and heavy spurs, more like a bandit than an honest husbandman.
The evening gun had long since boomed over the waters of the
land-locked harbor from the grim, walls of Moro Castle, the guard
had been relieved at the governor's palace and the city walls, and
now the steady martial tread to the tap of the drum rang along the
streets of Havana, as the guard once more sought their barracks in
the Plaza des Armes.
The pretty senoritas sat at their grated windows, nearly on a level
with the street, and chatted through the bars, not unlike prisoners,
to those gallants who paused to address them. And now a steady line
of pedestrians turned their way to the garden that fronts the
governor's palace, where they might listen to the music of the band,
nightly poured forth here to rich and poor.
At this peculiar hour there was a small party walking in the broad
and very private walk that skirts the seaward side of the city,
nearly opposite the Moro, and known as the Plato. It is the only
hour in which a lady can appear outside the walls of her dwelling on
foot in this queer and picturesque capital, and then only in the
Plaza, opposite to the palace, or in some secluded and private walk
like the Plato. Such is Creole and Spanish etiquette.
The party referred to consisted of a fine looking old Spanish don, a
lady who seemed to be his daughter, a little boy of some twelve or
thirteen years, who might perhaps be the lady's brother, and a
couple of gentlemen in undress military attire, yet bearing
sufficient tokens of rank to show them to be high in command. The
party was a gay though small one, and the lady seemed to be as
lively and talkative as the two gentlemen could desire, while they,
on their part, appeared most devoted to every syllable and gesture.
There was a slight air of hauteur in the lady's bearing; she seemed
to half disdain the homage that was so freely tendered to her, and
though she laughed loud and clear, there was a careless, not to say
heartless, accent in her tones, that betrayed her indifference to
the devoted attentions of her companions. Apparently too much
accustomed to this treatment to be disheartened by it, the two
gentlemen bore themselves most courteously, and continued as devoted
as ever to the fair creature by their side.
The boy of whom we have spoken was a noble child, frank and manly in
his bearing, and evidently deeply interested in the maritime scene
before him. Now he paused to watch the throng of craft of every
nation that lay at anchor in the harbor, or which were moored; after
the fashion here, with their stems to the quay, and now his fine
blue eye wandered off over the swift running waters of the Gulf
Stream, watching for a moment the long, heavy swoop of some distant
seafowl, or the white sail of some clipper craft bound up the Gulf
to New Orleans, or down the narrow channel through the Caribbean Sea
to some South American port. The old don seemed in the meantime to
regard the boy with an earnest pride, and scarcely heeded at all the
bright sallies of wit that his daughter was so freely and merrily
bestowing upon her two assiduous admirers.
"Yonder brigantine must be a slaver," said the boy, pointing to a
rakish craft that seemed to be struggling against the current to the
southward.
"Most like, most like; but what does she on this side? the southern
shore is her ground, and the Isle of Pines is a hundred leagues from
here," said the old don.
"She has lost her reckoning, probably," said the boy, "and made the
first land to the north. Lucky she didn't fall in with those Florida
wreckers, for though the Americans don't carry on the African trade
nowadays, they know what to do with a cargo if it gets once hard and
fast on the reefs."
"What know you of these matters?" asked the old don, turning a
curious eye on the boy.
"O, I hear them talk of these things, and you know I saw a cargo
'run' on the south side only last month," continued the boy. "There
were three hundred or more filed off from that felucca, two by two,
to the shore."
"It is a slaver," said one of the officers, "a little out of her
latitude, that's all."
"A beautiful craft," said the lady, earnestly; "can it be a slaver,
and so beautiful."
"They are clipper-built, all of them," said the old don. "Launched
in Baltimore, United States."
Senorita Gonzales was the daughter of the proud old don of the same
name, who was of the party on the Plato at the time we describe. The
father was one of the richest as well as noblest in rank of all the
residents of the island, being of the old Castilian stock, who had
come from Spain many years before, and after holding high office,
both civil and military, under the crown, had at last retired with a
princely fortune, and devoted himself to the education of his
daughter and son, both of whom we have already introduced to the
reader.
The daughter, beautiful, intelligent, and witty to a most
extraordinary degree, had absolutely broken the hearts of half the
men of rank on the island; for though yet scarcely twenty years of
age, Senorita Isabella was a confirmed coquette. It was her passion
to command and enjoy a devotion, but as to ever having in the least
degree cherished or known what it was to love, the lady was entirely
void of the charge; she had never known the tenderness of reciprocal
affection, nor did it seem to those who knew her best, that the man
was born who could win her confidence.
Men's hearts had been Isabella Gonzales's toys and playthings ever
since the hour that she first had realized her power over them. And
yet she was far from being heartless in reality. She was most
sensitive, and at times thoughtful and serious; but this was in her
closet, and when alone. Those who thought that the sunshine of that
face was never clouded, were mistaken. She hardly received the
respect that was due to her better understanding and naturally
strong points of character, because she hid them mainly behind an
exterior of captivating mirthfulness and never ceasing smiles.
The cool refreshing sea breeze that swept in from the water was most
delicious, after the scorching heat of a summer's day in the West
Indies, and the party paused as they breathed in of its freshness,
leaning upon the parapet of the walk, over which they looked down
upon the glancing waves of the bay far beneath them. The moon was
stealing slowly but steadily up from behind the lofty tower of Moro
Castle, casting a dash of silvery light athwart its dark batteries
and grim walls, and silvering a long wake across the now silent
harbor, making its rippling waters of golden and silver hues, and
casting, where the Moro tower was between it and the water, a long,
deep shadow to seaward.
Even the gay and apparently thoughtless Senorita Isabella was struck
with delight at the view now presented to her gaze, and for a moment
she paused in silence to drink in of the spirit-stirring beauty of
the scene.
"How beautiful it is," whispered the boy, who was close by her side.
"Beautiful, very beautiful," echoed Isabella, again becoming silent.
No one who has not breathed the soft air of the south at an hour
such as we have described, can well realize the tender influence
that it exercises upon a susceptible disposition. The whole party
gazed for some minutes in silence, apparently charmed by the scene.
There was a hallowing and chastening influence in the very air, and
the gay coquette was softened into the tender woman. A tear even
glistened in Ruez's, her brother's eyes; but he was a thoughtful and
delicate-souled child, and would be affected thus much more quickly
than his sister.
The eldest of the two gentlemen who were in attendance upon Don
Gonzales and his family, was Count Anguera, lieutenant-governor of
the island; and his companion, a fine military figure, apparently
some years the count's junior, was General Harero of the royal
infantry, quartered at the governor's palace. Such was the party
that promenaded on the parapet of the Plato.
As we have intimated, the two gentlemen were evidently striving to
please Isabella, and to win from her some encouraging smile or other
token that might indicate a preference for their attentions.
Admiration even from the high source that now tendered it was no new
thing to her, and with just sufficient archness to puzzle them, she
waived and replied to their conversation with most provoking
indifference, lavishing a vast deal more kindness and attention upon
a noble wolf-hound that crouched close to her feet, his big clear
eye bent ever upon his mistress's face with a degree of intelligence
that would have formed a theme for a painter. It was a noble
creature, and no wonder the lady evinced so much regard for the
hound, who ever and anon walked close to her.
"You love the hound?" suggested General Harero, stooping to smooth
its glossy coat.
"Yes."
"He is to be envied, then, upon my soul, lady. How could he, with no
powers of utterance, have done that for himself, which we poor
gallants so fail in doing?"
"And what may that be?" asked Isabella, archly tossing her head.
"Win thy love," half whispered the officer, drawing closer to her
side.
The answer was lost, if indeed Isabella intended one, by the
father's calling the attention of the party to some object on the
Regla shore, opposite the city, looming up in the dim light.
Ruez had mounted the parapet, and with his feet carelessly dangling
on the other side, sat gazing off upon the sea, now straining his
eye to make out the rig of some dark hull in the distance, and now
following back the moon's glittering wake until it met the shore. At
this moment the hound, leaving his mistress's side, put his fore
paws upon the top of the parapet and his nose into one of the boy's
hands, causing him to turn round suddenly to see what it was that
touched him; in doing which he lost his balance, and with a faint
cry fell from the parapet far down to the water below. Each of the
gentlemen at once sprang upon the stone work and looked over where
the boy had fallen, but it would have been madness for any one,
however good a swimmer; and as they realized this and their helpless
situation, they stood for a moment dumb with consternation.
At that moment a plunge was heard in the water from the edge of the
quay far below the parapet, and a dark form was traced making its
way through the water with that strong bold stroke that shows the
effort of a confident and powerful swimmer.
"Thank God some one has seen his fall from below, and they will
rescue him," said Don Gonzales, springing swiftly down the Plato
steps, followed by Isabella and the officers, and seeking the street
that led to the quay below.
"O hasten, father, hasten!" exclaimed Isabella, impatiently.
"Nay, Isabella, my old limbs totter with fear for dear Ruez," was
the hasty reply of the old don, as he hurried forward with his
daughter.
"Dear, dear Ruez," exclaimed Isabella, hysterically.
Dashing by the guard stationed on the quay, who presented arms as
his superiors passed, they reached its end in time to see, through
the now dim twilight, the efforts of some one in the water
supporting the half insensible boy with one arm, while with the
other he was struggling with almost superhuman effort against the
steady set of the tide to seaward. Already were a couple of seamen
lowering a quarter-boat from an American barque, near by, but the
rope had fouled in the blocks, and they could not loose it. A couple
of infantry soldiers had also come up to the spot, and having
secured a rope were about to attempt some assistance to the swimmer.
"Heave the line," shouted one of the seamen. "Give me the bight of
it, and I'll swim out to him."
"Stand by for it," said the soldier, coiling it in his hand and then
throwing it towards the barque. But the coil fell short of the mark,
and another minute's delay occurred.
In the meantime he who held the boy, though evidently a man of cool
judgment, powerful frame, and steady purpose, yet now breathed so
heavily in his earnest struggle with the swift tide, that his
panting might be distinctly heard on the quay. He was evidently
conscious of the efforts now making for his succor and that of the
boy, but he uttered no words, still bending every nerve and faculty
towards the stemming of the current tint sets into the harbor from
the Gulf Stream.
The hound had been running back and forth on the top of the parapet,
half preparing every moment for a spring, and then deterred by the
immense distance which presented itself between the animal and the
water, it would run back and forth again with a most piteous howling
cry; but at this moment it came bounding down the street to the
quay, as though it at last realized the proper spot from which to
make the attempt, and with a leap that seemed to carry it nearly a
rod into the waters, it swam easily to the boy's side.
An exclamation of joy escaped from both Don Gonzales and Isabella,
for they knew the hound to have saved a life before, and now prized
his sagacity highly.
As the hound swung round easily beside the struggling forms, the
swimmer placed the boy's arm about the animal's neck, while the
noble creature, with almost human reason, instead of struggling
fiercely at being thus entirely buried in the water, save the mere
point of his nose, worked as steadily and as calmly as though he was
merely following his young master on shore. The momentary relief was
of the utmost importance to the swimmer, who being thus partially
relieved of Ruez's weight, once more struck out boldly for the quay.
But the boy had now lost all consciousness, and his arm slipped away
from the hound's neck, and he rolled heavily over, carrying down the
swimmer and himself for a moment, below the surface of the water.
"Holy mother! they are both drowned!" almost screamed Isabella.
"Lost! lost!" groaned Don Gonzales, with uplifted hands and
tottering form.
"No! no!" exclaimed General Harero, "not yet, not yet." He had
jumped on board the barque, and had cut the davit ropes with his
sword, and thus succeeded in launching the boat with himself and the
two seamen in it.
At this moment the swimmer rose once more slowly with his burthen to
the surface; but his efforts were so faintly made now, that he
barely floated, and yet with a nervous vigor he kept the boy still
far above himself. And now it was that the noble instinct of the
hound stood his young master in such importance, and led him to
seize with his teeth the boy's clothes, while the swimmer once more
fairly gained his self-possession, and the boat with General Harero
and the seamen came alongside. In a moment more the boy with his
preserver and the dog were safe in the boat, which was rowed at once
to the quay.
A shout of satisfaction rang out from twenty voices that had
witnessed the scene.
Isabella, the moment they were safely in the boat, fainted, while
Count Anguera ran for a volante for conveyance home. The swimmer
soon regained his strength, and when the boat reached the quay, he
lifted the boy from it himself. It was a most striking picture that
presented itself to the eye at that moment on the quay, in the dim
twilight that was so struggling with the moon's brighter rays.
The father, embracing the reviving boy, looked the gratitude he
could not find words to express, while a calm, satisfied smile
ornamented the handsome features of the soldier who had saved Ruez's
life at such imminent risk. The coat which he had hastily thrown
upon the quay when he leaped into the water, showed him to bear the
rank of lieutenant of infantry, and by the number, he belonged to
General Harero's own division.
The child was placed with his sister and father in a volante, and
borne away from the spot with all speed, that the necessary care and
attention might be afforded to him which they could only expect in
their own home.
In the meantime a peculiar satisfaction mantled the brow and
features of the young officer who had thus signally served Don
Gonzales and his child. His fine military figure stood erect and
commanding in style while he gazed after the volante that contained
the party named, nor did he move for some moments, seeming to be
exercised by some peculiar spell; still gazing in the direction in
which the volante had disappeared, until General Harero, his
superior, having at length arranged his own attire, after the hasty
efforts which he had made, came by, and touching him lightly on the
arm, said:
"Lieutenant, you seem to be dreaming; has the bath affected your
brain?"
"Not at all, general," replied the young officer, hastening to put
on his coat once more; "I have indeed forgotten myself for a single
moment."
"Know you the family whom you have thus served?" asked the general.
"I do; that is, I know their name, general, but nothing further."
"He's a clever man, and will remember your services," said the
general, carelessly, as he walked up the quay and received the
salute of the sentinel on duty.
Some strange feeling appeared to be working in the breast of the
young officer who had just performed the gallant deed we have
recorded, for he seemed even now to be quite lost to all outward
realization, and was evidently engaged in most agreeable communion
with himself mentally. He too now walked up the quay, also,
receiving the salute of the sentinel, and not forgetting either, as
did the superior officer, to touch his cap in acknowledgement, a
sign that an observant man would have marked in the character of
both; and one, too, which was not lost on the humble private, whose
duty it was to stand at his post until the middle watch of the
night. A long and weary duty is that of a sentinel on the quay at
night.
CHAPTER II.
THE BELLE AND THE SOLDIER.
WHOEVER has been in Havana, that strange and peculiar city, whose
every association and belonging seem to bring to mind the period of
centuries gone by, whose time-worn and moss-covered cathedrals
appear to stand as grim records of the past, whose noble palaces and
residences of the rich give token of the fact of its great wealth
and extraordinary resources--whoever, we say, has been in this
capital of Cuba, has of course visited its well-known and far-famed
Tacon Paseo. It is here, just outside the city walls, in a beautiful
tract of land, laid out in tempting walks, ornamented with the
fragrant flowers of the tropics, and with statues and fountains
innumerable, that the beauty and fashion of the town resort each
afternoon to drive in their volantes, and to meet and greet each
other.
It was on the afternoon subsequent to that of the accident recorded
in the preceding chapter, that a young officer, off duty, might be
seen partially reclining upon one of the broad seats that here and
there line the foot-path of the circular drive in the Paseo. He
possessed a fine manly figure, and was perhaps of twenty-four or
five years of age, and clothed in the plain undress uniform of the
Spanish army. His features were of that national and handsome cast
that is peculiar to the full-blooded Castilian, and the pure olive
of his complexion contrasted finely with a moustache and imperial as
black as the dark flowing hair that fell from beneath his foraging
cap. At the moment when we introduce him he was playing with a
small, light walking-stick, with which he thrashed his boots most
immoderately; but his thoughts were busy enough in another quarter,
as any one might conjecture even at a single glance.
Suddenly his whole manner changed; he rose quickly to his feet, and
lifting his cap gracefully, he saluted and acknowledged the
particular notice of a lady who bent partially forward from a richly
mounted volante drawn by as richly it caparisoned horse, and driven
by as richly dressed a calesaro. The manner of the young officer
from that moment was the very antipodes of what it had been a few
moments before. A change seemed to have come over the spirit of his
dream. His fine military figure became erect and dignified, and a
slight indication of satisfied pride was just visible in the fine
lines of his expressive lips. As he passed on his way, after a
momentary pause, he met General Harero, who stiffly acknowledged his
military salute, with anything but kindness expressed in the stern
lines of his forbidding countenance. He even took some pains to
scowl upon the young soldier as they passed each other.
But what cared Lieutenant Bezan for his frowns? Had not the belle of
the city, the beautiful, the peerless, the famed Senorita Isabella
Gonzales just publicly saluted him?-that glorious being whose
transcendent beauty had been the theme of every tongue, and whose
loveliness had enslaved him from the first moment he had looked upon
her-just two years previous, when he first came from Spain. Had not
this high-born and proud lady publicly saluted him? Him, a poor
lieutenant of infantry, who had never dared to lift his eyes to meet
her own before, however deep and ardently he might have worshipped
her in secret. What cared the young officer that his commander had
seen fit thus to frown upon him? True, he realized the power of
military discipline, and particularly of the Spanish army; but he
forgot all else now, in the fact that Isabella Gonzales had publicly
saluted him in the paths of the Paseo.
Possessed of a highly chivalrous disposition, Lieutenant Bezan had
few confidants among his regiment, who, notwithstanding this, loved
him as well as brothers might love. He seemed decidedly to prefer
solitude and his books to the social gatherings, or the clubs formed
by his brother officers, or indeed to join them in any of their
ordinary sports or pastimes.
Of a very good family at home, he had the misfortune to have been
born a younger brother, and after being thoroughly educated at the
best schools of Madrid, he was frankly told by his father that he
must seek his fortune, and for the future rely solely upon himself.
There was but one field open to him, at least so it seemed to him,
and that was the army. Two years before the opening of our story he
had enlisted as a third lieutenant of infantry, and had been at once
ordered to the West Indies with his entire regiment. Here promotion
for more than one gallant act closely followed him, until at the
time we introduce him to the reader as first lieutenant. Being of a
naturally cheerful and exceedingly happy disposition, he took life
like a philosopher, and knew little of care or sorrow until the time
when he first saw Senorita Isabella Gonzales-an occasion that
planted a hopeless passion in his breast.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13