_ CHAPTER XIX. THE AVOWAL
THERE had seemed to be a constantly recurring thread of circumstances, which operated to separate Lorenzo Bezan and Isabella Gonzales. Isabella had received a fearful shock in the remarkable occurrences of the last few days. The devoted love of the countess, her self-sacrificing spirit, her risk and loss of her life to save him she loved, all had made a most indelible impression upon her. There was a moment, as the reader has seen, when she doubted the truth and honor of Lorenzo Bezan; but it was but for a moment, for had not his own truthfulness vindicated itself to her mind and heart, the words of the Countess Moranza had done so. That faithful and lovely woman told her also of the noble spirit of devoted love that the soldier bore her, and how honestly he had cherished that love he bore for her when surrounded by the dazzling beauty and flattery of the whole court, and bearing the name of the queen's favorite.
All this led her of course to regard him with redoubled affection, and to increase the weight of indebtedness of her heart towards one whom she had treated so coldly, and who for her sake had borne so much of misery. "But ah!" she said to herself, "if he could but read this heart, and knew how much it has suffered in its self-imposed misery, he would indeed pity and not blame me. I see it all now; from the very first I have loved him-from the hour of our second meeting in the Paseo-poor, humble and unknown, I loved him then; but my spirit was too proud to own it; and I have loved him ever since, though the cold words of repulse have been upon my tongue, and I have tried to impress both him and myself to the contrary. How bitter are the penalties of pride-how heavy the tax that it demands from frail humanity! No more shall it have sway over this bosom!" As she spoke, the beautiful girl threw back the dark clustering hair from her temples, and raised her eyes to heaven, as if to call for witness upon her declaration.
The proper steps were taken for sending the body of the countess home to Madrid, where it would receive the highest honors, and those marks of distinction which its connection with the royal blood of Spain demanded. Lorenzo Bezan mourned sincerely the loss of one who had been so dear and kind a friend to him. An instinctive feeling seemed to separate Isabella and the lieutenant-governor for a brief period. It was not a period of anxiety, nor of doubt, concerning each other. Strange to say, not one word had yet been exchanged between them since that bitter farewell was uttered in the prison walls of the military keep. No words could have made them understand each other better than they now did; each respected the peculiar feelings of the other. But weeks soon pass, and the time was very brief that transpired before they met in the drawing-room of Don Gonzales's house. Ruez welcomed Lorenzo Bezan as he entered, led him to the apartment, and calling his sister, declared that they must excuse him, for he was going with his father for a drive in the Paseo.
Lorenzo Bezan sat for some moments alone, when he heard a light footstep upon the marble floor of the main hall, and his heart throbbed with redoubled quickness. In a moment more Isabella Gonzales stood before him; her eyes bent upon the floor, seemed immovably there; she could not raise them; but she held forth her hand towards him! He seized it, pressed it to his lips again and again, then drawing her closely to his bosom, pressed his lips to her forehead, and asked:
"Isabella, Isabella, do you, can you really love me?"
"Love you, Lorenzo Bezan?"
"Yes, dear one, love me as I have for years loved you."
She raised her eyes now; they were streaming with tears; but through them all she said:
"I have looked into my heart, and I find that I have ever loved you!"
"Sweet words! O, happy assurance," said the soldier, rapturously.
"One word will explain all to thee. I was spoiled when in childhood. I was told that I was beautiful, and as I grew older a spirit of haughtiness and pride was implanted in my bosom by the universal homage that was offered to me on all hands. I had no wish ungratified, was unchecked, humored, in short spoiled thy affectionate indulgence, and but for one good influence-that exercised by the lovely character of my dear brother, Ruez-I fear me, I should have been undeniably lost to the world and myself in some strange denouement of my life. A startling and fearful event introduced you to me under circumstances calculated to fix your form and features forever in my memory. It did so. I could not but be sensible of your noble and manly qualities, though seen through what was to my mind a dark haze of humble associations.
"This was my first impression of you. You boldly wooed me, told me you loved me above all else. Your very audacity attracted me; it was so novel, so strange to be thus approached. I, who was the acknowledged belle of Havana, before whom the best blood and highest titles of the island knelt, and who was accustomed to be approached with such deference and respect, was half won before I knew it, by the Lieutenant Lorenzo Bezan, on the Plato. Singular circumstances again threw us together, where again your personal bravery and firmness served us so signally. I knew not my own heart even then, though some secret whisperings partly aroused me, and when you were sent to prison, I found my pride rising above all else. And yet by some uncontrollable impulse I visited you, disguised, in prison; and there again I can see how nearly I had acknowledged my true feelings; but once more the secret whisper sounded in my ear, and I left you coldly, nay, almost insultingly. But bitterly have I wept for that hour.
"In vain have I struggled on, in vain strove to forget; it was impossible; and yet, never until you sent me that note, have I frankly acknowledged, even to my own heart, the feeling which I have so long been conscious of. Ah, it has been a bitter experience that I have endured, and now I can see it all in its true light, and own to thee freely, that I have loved even from the first."
While she had spoken thus, Lorenzo Bezan had gently conducted her to a couch, and seated by her side he had held her hand while he listened and looked tenderly into the depths of her lustrous and beautiful eyes. He felt how cheaply he had earned the bliss of that moment, how richly he was repaid for the hardships and grief he had endured for Isabella's sake.
"Ah, dearest, let us forget the past, and live only for each other and the future."
"Can you so easily forget and forgive?" she asked him, in softest accents.
"I can do anything, everything," he said, "if thou wilt but look ever upon me thus," and he placed his arms about that taper waist, and drew her willing form still nearer to his side, until her head fell upon his shoulder. "There will be no more a dark side to our picture of life, dear Isabella."
"I trust not."
"And you will ever love me?"
"Ever!" repeated the beautiful girl, drawing instinctively nearer to his breast.
At that moment, Ruez, returning from the Plato to procure some article which he had left behind, burst hastily into the room, and, blushing like a young girl at the scene that met his eye, he was about to retire hastily, when Lorenzo Bezan spoke to him, not the least disconcerted; he felt too secure in his position to realize any such feeling:
"Come hither, Ruez, we have just been speaking of you."
"Of me?" said the boy, rather doubtfully, as though he suspected they had been talking of matters quite foreign to him.
"Yes, of you, Ruez," continued his sister, striving to hide a tell-tale blush, as her eyes met her brother's. "I have been telling General Bezan what a dear, good brother you have been to me--how you have ever remembered all his kindnesses to me; while I have thought little of them, and have been far from grateful."
"Not at heart, sister," said the boy, quickly; "not always in your sleep, since you will sometimes talk in your day dreams!"
"Ah, Ruez, you turned traitor, and betray me? well, there can be little harm, perhaps, to have all known now."
"Now?" repeated Ruez. "Why do you use that word so decidedly?"
"Why, you must know, my dear Ruez," said the general, "that a treaty has been partially agreed upon between us, which will necessarily put all hostilities at an end; and, therefore, any secret information can be of no possible use whatever."
"Is it so, Isabella?" asked Ruez, inquiringly, of his sister.
"Yes, brother, we are to 'bury the hatchet,' as the American orators say."
"Are you in earnest? but no matter; I am going-let me see, where was I going?"
"You came into the room as though you had been shot out of one of the port-holes of Moro Castle," said the general, playfully. "No wonder you forget!"
The boy looked too full for utterance. He shook the general's hand, heartily kissed Isabella, and telling them he believed they had turned conspirators, and were about to perpetrate some fearful business against the government, and sagely hinting that unless he was also made a confidant of, he should forthwith denounce them to Tacon, he shook his hand with a most serious mock air and departed.
It would be in bad taste for us, also, not to leave Isabella and Lorenzo Bezan alone. They had so much to say, so much to explain, so many pictures to paint on the glowing canvass of the future, with the pencils of hope and love, that it would be unfair not to permit them to do so undisturbed. So we will follow Ruez to the volante, and dash away with him and Don Gonzales to the Paseo, for a circular drive.
"I left General Bezan and Isabella together in the drawing-room," began Ruez to his father, just as they passed outside of the city walls.
"Yes. I knew he was there," said the father, indifferently.
"That was a very singular affair that occurred between him and the Countess Moranza."
"Queer enough."
"Yet sister says that the general was not to blame, in any respect."
"Yes, I took good care to be satisfied of that," said the father, who had indeed made it the subject of inquiry. "Had he been guilty of deceiving that beautiful and high-born lady, he should never have entered my doors again. I should have despised him."
"He seems very fond of Isabella," continued the boy, after a brief silence.
"Fond of her!"
"Yes, and she of him," said Ruez.
"Lorenzo Bezan fond of my daughter, and she of him?"
"Why, yes, father; I don't see anything so very strange, do you?"
"Do I? Lorenzo Bezan is but a nameless adventurer--a--a--"
"Stop, father--a lieutenant-governor, and the queen's favorite."
"That is true," said Don Gonzales, thoughtfully. "Yes, but he's poor."
"How do you know, father?"
"Why, it is but reasonable to think so; and my daughter shall not marry any one with less position or fortune than herself."
"As to position, father," continued the boy, "General Bezan wears orders that you would give half your fortune to possess!"
"I forgot that."
"And has already carved a name for himself in Spanish history," said Ruez.
"True."
"Then I see not how you can complain of him on the score of position."
"No; but he's poor, and I have sworn that no man, unless he brings as large a fortune as Isabella will have in her own right, shall marry her. How do I know but it may be the money, not Isabella, that he wants?"
"Father!"
"Well, Ruez."
"You are unjust towards the noble nature of that man; there are few men like him in the queen's service, and it has not required long for her to discern it." As the boy spoke, he did so in a tone and a manner that almost awed his father. At times he could assume this mode, and when he did so, it was because he felt what he uttered, and then it never failed of its influence upon the listener.
"Still," said Don Gonzales, somewhat subduedly, "he who would wed my peerless child must bring something besides title and honor. A fortune as large as her own-nothing else. This I know Lorenzo Bezan has not, and there's an end of his intimacy with your sister, and I must tell her so this very evening."
"As you will, father. You are her parent, and can command her obedience; but I do not believe you can control Isabella's heart," said Ruez, earnestly.
"Boy, I do not like thee to talk to me thus. Remember thy youth, and thy years. Thou art ever putting me to my metal."
"Father, do I not love thee and sister Isabella above all else on earth?"
"Yes, yes, boy, I know it; thou dost love us well; say no more."
Ruez had broken the ice. He found that it was time, however, to be silent now, and leaning back thoughtfully in the volante, he neither spoke again, nor seemed to observe anything external about him until he once more entered the Plato and his father's noble mansion. _