The Three Brides, Love in a Cottage, and Other Tales | Page 4

myself. Do you think I can forget your insults, jeers, and jokes?
Do you think I knew not when you mocked me behind my back, or
sought to trick me before my face? You little knew, when you and your
gay-faced cousin were making merry at my expense, what wrath you
were storing up against the day of evil. But I come of a race that never
forgets or forgives; there is some of the blood of the wild Zingara
coursing in these shrivelled veins--a love of vengeance, that is dearer
than the love of life. I watched your love intrigue from the very first. I
saw that it bade fair to end in happiness. Don Julio was wealthy and
well born, and his intentions were honorable. After indulging your
romantic spirit by a secret wooing, he would have openly claimed you
of your father, and the old man would have been but too proud to give
his consent. Now came the moment for revenge. I traduced you to your
lover, making use of an agent who was wholly mine. Trifles produce
conviction when once the faith of jealous man is shaken. A few toys--a
turquoise bracelet, a lock of hair, a bunch of faded flowers--sufficed to
turn the scale; and now, were an angel of heaven to pronounce you true,
Don Julio would disbelieve the testimony. Ha, ha! am I not avenged?"
"And was it," said Magdalena, in a low, pathetic voice,--"was it for a
few jests,--a little childish chafing against restraint, that you wrecked
the happiness of a poor young girl,--blighted her hopes, and broke her
heart? Woman--fiend! dare you tell me this?" she cried, kindling into
passion with a sudden transition. "Avaunt! begone! Leave my sight,
you hideous and evil thing! But take with you my bitter curse--no
empty anathema! but one that will cling to you like the garment of
flame that wraps the doomed heretic! Begone! accursed
wretch--hideous in soul as you are abhorrent and repulsive in person."
Cowed, but muttering wrathful words, the stricken wretch hurried out

of the apartment, into which Juanita instantly rushed.
"Magdalena, what means this?" she cried. "I heard you uttering fearful
threats against old Margarita. Calm yourself; you are strangely
excited."
"O Juanita, Juanita!" cried Magdalena, the tears starting from her eyes,
and wringing her fair hands. "If you knew all--if you knew the wrong
that woman has done me; but not now--not now; leave me, good
cousin,--leave me!"
"You are not well, dearest," said Juanita; "take my advice, go to bed
and repose. To-morrow you will be calm, and to-morrow you shall tell
me all."
"To-morrow! to-morrow!" muttered Magdalena. "Well, well;
to-morrow you will find me!"
"Yes; I will waken you, and sit at your bedside, and laugh your griefs
away. Good night, Magdalena!"
"Farewell, dearest!" said the heart-stricken girl; and Juanita left the
chamber.
Before a silver crucifix, Magdalena knelt in prayer.
"Father of mercies, blessed Virgin, absolve me of the sin--if sin it be to
rush unbidden to the presence of my Judge! My burden is too great to
bear!"
She rose from her knees, took from a cupboard a goblet of Venetian
glass, and a flask of Xeres wine. Into the goblet she first dropped the
contents of a paper she took from her bosom, and then filled it to the
brim with wine. She had already stretched forth her hand to the fatal
glass, when she heard her name called by her father.
"He would give me a good-night kiss," said the wretched girl. "I must
receive it with pure lips. I come, dear father,--I come."

Scarcely had she left her chamber when the old duenna again stole into
the room.
"If I could only find one of the gallant's letters," she muttered to herself,
"I could arm her father's mind against her; and then if madam tried to
get me turned away, she would have her labor for her pains. What have
we here? A flask of Xeres, as I live! So ho, senorita! Is this the source
of your inspiration when you berate your betters? I declare it smells
good; the jade is no bad judge of wine!"
As she spoke, the old woman, who had no particular aversion to the
juice of the grape, hurriedly drank off the contents of the goblet, and
immediately filled it up again from the flask.
"There! she'll be no wiser," said she, with a cunning leer. "And now I
must hurry off. I would not have the young baggage find me here for a
month's wages!"
Margarita effected her retreat just in time. Magdalena returned, after
having, as she supposed, seen her poor father for the last time.
Had not despair completely overmastered the reason of the poor girl,
she would have shrunk from the idea of