The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1886-07-25

thinner, the lined cheeks take on the glow OF
fever, and the large eyes gleam yet larger ana
more lustrious My own frail health has altered
much for the better. AS see the wasting
change in Anatolia. am filled with . foolish su
perstitious fancy that / am gaining at her ex-
| pense; that am absorbing her strength she
| laughs to scorn the idea. She will not even ad
NIT that she is injured by her exertions In my
behalf .'It is good to work" she says; more If
| ones thoughts be painful One nail drives out
another" So she goes or with rsiaUaIinE energy.
At this time comes to me one day the editor OF
| the weekly local newspaper, preferring request
Two Mexican gentlemen, merchants from Santo
Tomas. have come up hither to buy goods. NY
interlocutor Mows little Spanish; will l. IN his
behalf, interview these pilgrims anent the newly
| discovered mines near by them in Chinuanuaf
When he presently comes back with the traders
offer cigarettes and fair native wine, after
their own manner of hospitality, and we sit ami
cably discoursive for some time When MI.
Deane has made what notes he wishes proceed
on my own account Don Asencion Gaetan and
his compadre drive rather a heavy trade with
our territorial merchants. Perhaps they feel
that they have discounted their financial patriot
ism IL many forced loans to government. Vt
ali events, no sympathy for depleted national
treasury prevents their bringing their pack
trains hither by mountain passes. over routes
| that do not inpinge on custom house boundaries
| They have the true Mexican's quick sense
| Of the picturesque. and the compadre, In
particular. has. a gift OF graphic graphic express.
dramatic quality; their retired trail lies through
the chosen Businesses of lurking Apache maraud-
| ers; also, sometimes the customs guards pene-
| trate even thus far to oppose the bold contra
| bandistas, and then tragic encounters come
|. about am reveling in this windfall Of local
color, when Don Asencion Gastan starts to his
| feet
sAnatoia Castro!' he cries, and strides to the
door But my capirotada-maker is gone. There
| is the hutter of black skirt and q blue rebozo
around the corner of our adobe fence-wall.
| The merchant resumes his seat with profuse
apologies.
ut signifies nothing, senior! nothing whatever!'
I maintain. "Unseemiy? no, your movement,
being surprised, was natural But why do you
say Castro2 She calls herself Ocampo"
1T was her mothers name-Ocampo. know
| the family-ohl but well indeed. We were OF
| Sinaloa, as they were. Anatolia was playmate
| of my elder sister. She has forty-six years-no,
| senorita. no more, although she does look older
| far. Now, thirty years ago Anatolia had
! lover. Not one, indeed, but many, then and
since. But the one I say was countryman of
| yours"
"Was grineo," interpolate mo need to tell
me then that the wooing was hapless"
He was forestero yes, Americana" substi-
| tutes the courteous gentleman with apologize
| depreciation. "You will not blame US with the
| ignorant ribaldry of our mob. No doubt all
! lands have low orders whose prejudice speaks in
/ vulgar terms of abuse"
| I scarce know how to atone for my fippant,
| offensive word. But make the ceremonious
amend that the occasion requires, and the tact
| of the others assist me-
''But the history of Anatoliaf' pursue; will
| you do me the grace to resume from my inter
ruption2"
1.-THE American was young" he proceeds after
| the usual complimentary disclaimer; 'he had,
| perhaps, twenty-five years. while the maiden had
| sixteen. Oh! he was very splendid, senorita as
/ l remember; so gay and frank brave and
| friendly. No wonder Anatolia deeply loved him.
All had been going WELL when he departed for
his own land, pledged to return in three months
/ for the marriage. But he came back no more
/ HE was dead" declare, in defense of my
/ counrryman's honor From Sinaloa to the
north the way is long and perilous-the savages
| are many No doubt that Anatolia's lover lies,
| now only handful of whitening bones, on some
| remote jornada"
| Pardon" the Mexican answers, regretfully
enough, 1--WE had word of him once years after.
/ well know that, for it was in my fathers house
| there died an American traveller who knew the
| other WELL He had his friend picture, and, to
| our inquiries, told us how this compatriot then
| lived in la California, well and prosperous. No
doubt he remembered not the broken heart be-
! hind him.. There was no doubt it was the man.
/ His name? All, senortai our Southern tongues
/ are i'll strung for your applications And then
| you know our mode of Don Fularlo and Don
Alguno. His Christian name was Ricardo"
It appears, indeed, there is little hope Of trac
| ing lost man after thirty years. by the not rare
name of Richard. 1t is good, strong name,
| but not uncommon. l know, myself perhaps
/ half q score SO"call0G. Ion ASeLclOnS Udrk, mo-
bile face falls from the look of half hopeful ex-
pectation.
'sHe is dead by now, perhaps Heaven send
it may be SO. Better death than villainy and
dishonor, and the world is better for the death
| of such offenders"
| His creed is a stern one, but can we call it
wrong?
Il must find Anatolia," says Don Asencion;
| cit is not fitting she should live as you have
| told me. The Castros have broad acres and
| in
smoothed not her own hair; and nova PEN
sioner of her old-time servant. Ay, Dios, what
| cruel accumulation Of misery may come from
| the inhumanity of one poor mortal With your
| permission, l will return to speak with you
again."
But it is a fruitless report that he brings to
me later.
| help! Por Dios! My hacienda has room for
score like her. My wife, Marcelina, is Sinalo-
ense. Think you she would not take this poor
wanderer to her hearth We would make Of her
another sister. had it all in my mlnd-how,
| for her comfort would take her by the train to
Paso del Norte. and thence in my friend Olvia's
| carriage to my home"
| His grief and disappointment are intense
Poor Anatolios friends are of strong attach
| ment Not every such tie will bear the strain of
| time, of Absence of selfish bonds and loves.
| Anatoa comes to me usual the next morn
ing, soon after Don Asencion's long pack train
has climbed the steep grade of the southern road,
| and while / am still musing on this new instance
Of the faithlessness and abuse of hospitality that
have given the Mexican race sore cause for
| hatred and distrust. Anatolia is a shade more
| than ever quiet her eloquent eyes tell of a mel
/ ancholy she would not express. She makes no
| reference to the occurrence Of the day before,
| but consider further retcence unwise, and /
| tell her at once how I know her sad romance.
Then for the first time the barrier of reserve
| breaks down.
He is not dead!s she cries. "He was not
false. All these long years I have been right to
| trust him. will tell you how it was-I could
not explain to Asencion Gaetan. 1t was not for
me to discover my brothers treachery to one
who knew him. Since the day that Ricardo left
us have never doubted him-never! You know
how fondly and how blindly will be-
| lieve in the truth Of the man she loves with
| avery odd AGAINST her--in that xvav T heliavad