The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 112: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

108 window and not once had she seen the fiery speck bobbing hither and thither through the gloom. There was something wrong with the tanks, mayhap, she had said to herself aiter a third failure to descry the will- o’-the-wisp below; the padre must be under the tanks somewhere, tinkering with a broken valve or a burst pipe. It was foolish of her to be anxious. No harm could happen to the padre. She returned to her seat by the table and sought to compose herself. But that was in vain. Ever and anon she was back at the window, only to face re- newed disappointment. Pablo had long since taken himself off to bed. Teresa rocked slowly under the rays of the table-lamp, now busily engaged at a piece of drawn-work, and now dropping it into her lap and sink- ing into a reverie with dreamy eves. She had absently returned the “ Buenos noches ” of her brother, hardly noticing that he had gone. As for the madre’s flitting about the window, it was long before that claimed her at- tention at all. | Finally she threw aside her work and took down her guitar, twined with its red ribbons. Settling herself with the instrument upon her lap, she gazed into vacancy, played softly and softly sang: “But, oh, turn back from the high- walled town; There are’ troubles enough in this world, I surmise, ) Without men riding in regiments down To die by those perilous Spanish eyes! ” The tender air and soft words—the English words—had been taken to her heart and were never to be forgotten. She recalled how the brave Yanqui had looked at her as he sang the ballad, and, even as she thought of it, her slen- der brown fingers fell from the strings and reverie again claimed her. “Where is the Senor Jeffries, little one?” The voice of the madre floated from the window in musical Spanish. The madre detested the English tongue; it was harsh and difficult and she used it as little as possible. Teresa shrugged her shoulders with- out looking around. THE ARGOSY. “TI care not,’ she answered. There was a silence, during which the madre half-turned from the window and then irresolutely turned back again. “And Senor Whipple,” continued the madre; “ he is so late, and came not to supper at all.” ‘’eresa was all attention at that. “He was busy, little mother,” an- swered the girl, rising and hanging her ‘guitar from the nail on the wall, “ but surely he should have been here before this.” “Is it possible, Teresa, that your father is helping Senor Whipple? ” ‘The anxiety of the madre’s voice rang out with the question, and ‘Teresa looked at her sharply. “The father’s work is most import- ant,” said Teresa, “and he is not al- lowed to leave the tanks for anything.” “ Dios mio!” murmured the madre; “where can the father be? I have not seen his lantern, little one, since he went to the tanks.” Teresa passed to the window, put her arms tenderly about the madre’s neck, and searched the darkness with her own eyes. “There is no light among the tanks and none in the office,” she murmured. “Y will go and look for the father, since you are worried.” “Shall I call Pablo? ” ‘““ Not at all; for me to go is nothing. Cheer up, little mother; the father is safe, I know.” She kissed her mother on the cheeks, caught a rebosa from a chair-back, threw it over her head and was gone. The hillside was stony and broken, but Teresa was so familiar with the way that she could have descended the slope blindfolded without a stumble. At the solution tank she halted and listened. Her heart fluttered, she knew not why, and a vague terror took pos- session of her. | * Padre!” she called; “ padre!” Hler voice was quivering and impo- tent. Leaning against: the trestle that supported the tank, she called again, this time throwing a frantic strength into the single word. No answer pierced the _ brooding silence, and a well-mgh uncontrollable desire to whirl and flee seized hold of (SO MICOOO (COL