The Rifle Rangers by Mayne Reid

Author:Mayne Reid [Reid, Mayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2007-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Chapter Twenty Six.

The Light after the Shade.

When I awoke all was darkness around me. I threw out my arms and opened the damask curtains. Not a ray of light entered the room. I felt refreshed, and from this I concluded I must have slept long. I slipped out upon the floor and commenced groping for my watch. Someone knocked.

“Come in!” I called.

The door opened, and a flood of light gushed into the apartment. It was a servant bearing a lamp.

“What is the hour?” I demanded.

“Nine o’clock, mi amo,” (my master), was the reply.

The servant set down the lamp and went out. Another immediately entered, carrying a salver with a small gold cup.

“What have you there?”

“Chocolate, master; Dona Joaquina has sent it.”

I drank off the beverage, and hastened to dress myself. I was reflecting whether I should pass on to camp without seeing any one of the family. Somehow, my heart felt less heavy. I believe the morning always brings relief to pain, either mental or bodily. It seems to be a law of nature—at least, so my experience tells me. The morning air, buoyant and balmy, dulls the edge of anguish. New hopes arise and new projects appear with the sun. The invalid, couch-tossing through the long watches of the night, will acknowledge this truth.

I did not approach the mirror. I dared not.

“I will not looked upon the loved, the hated face—no, on to the camp!—let Lethe—. Has my friend arisen?”

“Yes, master; he has been up for hours.”

“Ha! where is he?”

“In the garden, master.”

“Alone?”

“No, master; he is with the niñas.”

“Happy, light-hearted Clayley! No jealous thoughts to torture him!” mused I, as I buckled on my stock.

I had observed that the fair-haired sister and he were kindred spirits—sympathetic natures, who only needed to be placed en rapport to “like each other mightily”—beings who could laugh, dance, and sing together, romp for months, and then get married, as a thing of course; but, should any accident prevent this happy consummation, could say “good-bye” and part without a broken heart on either side; an easy thing for natures like theirs; a return exchange of numerous billets-doux, a laugh over the past, and a light heart for the future. Such is the history of many a love. I can vouch for it. How different with—

“Tell my friend, when he returns to the house, that I wish to see him.”

“Yes, master.”

The servant bowed and left the room.

In a few minutes Clayley made his appearance, gay as a grasshopper.

“So, good lieutenant, you have been improving your time, I hear?”

“Haven’t I, though? Such a delicious stroll! Haller, this is a paradise.”

“Where have you been?”

“Feeding the swans,” replied Clayley, with a laugh. “But, by the way, your chère amie hangs her pretty head this morning. She seems hurt that you have not been up. She kept constantly looking towards the house.”

“Clayley, will you do me the favour to order the men to their saddles?”

“What! going so soon? Not before breakfast, though?”

“In five minutes.”

“Why, Captain, what’s the matter? And such a breakfast as they are getting! Oh, Don Cosmé will not hear of it.

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