Текст книги "Lion Triumphant"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

The days passed. We were waiting for a ship. When it came we would say good-bye to the Hacienda and Honey, Don Luis and little Edwina. I had prevailed upon Felipe to allow Carlos to come with us. Manuela would accompany us too, with Jennet and young Jacko.

I was desolate at the thought of leaving Honey; but I knew that from now on I was in jeopardy and the tension created by the realization that at any moment there might be that knock on the door was such that one must long to escape from it at all costs.

I heard that Pilar was sick and had taken to her bed. I sent Manuela over to see her. Manuela had been a good and faithful servant and grateful to me for rescuing Carlos whom she adored. I thought that she might discover how far Pilar had gone with her accusations.

When she came back I summoned her to my bedroom where we could talk without being overheard and asked her what she had found.

“Pilar is indeed sick,” she said. “She is sick of heart and sick of body.”

“Did she talk of Isabella?”

“All the time. The maids told me that she wanders about the Casa Azul at night calling for Isabella, that she will not allow them to touch the dolls. She has them there in her room.”

I nodded.

“Manuela, I wish to know all,” I said, “no matter what. I know that she hates me because I married Isabella’s husband. But Isabella was no wife to him. You know that.”

“Always she talks,” said Manuela. “She goes from one thing to another. She curses Edmundo. ‘All for a cross,’ she said, ‘a ruby-studded cross. You remember it, Manuela. She wore it so seldom.’”

“You did remember it, Manuela?”

“Yes, I did. It was a beautiful thing. I noticed it particularly, for I have a special liking for rubies. And it was not found either.”

“Edmundo gave it to someone, I believe that was the assumption. A woman he loved.”

“Who was this woman? They never found her.”

“You would not expect her to come forward. She would be afraid to. Or it may be that he hid the cross somewhere. Perhaps he buried it in the garden. He would have to hide it I suppose. But what does the cross matter?”

“Edmundo was such a gentle man. It seems strange that he should kill for a ruby cross.”

“One never knows what people will do. Perhaps he loved someone and wished her to have the cross. Who can say? And he did it on an impulse and then he was caught and his future threatened. They would hang him for stealing a valuable cross. So he killed to save himself.”

Manuela shook her head. “It was awful when she cursed him. I wanted to run out. But then she talked of you, Mistress.”

“What did she say of me, Manuela?”

“She said that she wished to see you. She said that she would have come to you but because she is ill you must go to her.”

“I will go,” I answered.

Manuela nodded.

I did not tell Felipe I was going. I thought he might prevent me. But I knew I had to speak to Pilar. I must try to explain. I wished I had done so during our encounter in the street, but I had been too taken aback to do so then. I wanted to ask her what she meant by calling me a witch. I wanted to assure her that I was no such thing.

It occurred to me that she knew something about the image. Had she put it there? How could she have done so? She did not come to the Hacienda. Perhaps she had people working for her there, people who hated me as much as she did, who wanted to prove that I was guilty in bringing about Isabella’s death.

I packed a basket with some delicacies from the kitchen and went to see her.

As I opened the gate a terrible revulsion came over me. It was as though my whole being were crying out a warning to me. There was the patio. There was the window and the balcony at which I had seen Isabella with her doll. Here Edmundo had picked her up so gently when she fell. In my mind’s eye I saw Edmundo’s lifeless body hanging from a rope in the plaza of La Laguna.

How quiet it was! I pushed open the door. I could scarcely bear to look. There was the staircase. I pictured her poor broken body lying at the bottom of it.

I stood hesitating.

Go away, said a voice within me. Run … while there is time. Leave this place. You are in imminent danger.

Someone was standing behind me. One of the servants must have seen me enter the house and followed me.

She looked at me, her eyes wide. I could see that she was afraid of me.

I said: “I came to see Pilar.”

She nodded and turned her eyes as though she feared she might be contaminated by some evil.

She started to run up the stairs. I followed her.

On a landing she opened a door. I went in.

The room was dark, for it had been built to keep out the sun. On the bed lay Pilar; her hair streaming about her shoulders gave her a wild look.

I took a step toward the bed and tried to speak normally.

“I’m sorry you are ill, Pilar. I have brought you these. I heard that you wanted to see me.”

“Do you think I’d eat anything that came from the Hacienda … that house of sin? Do you think I’d eat anything you brought me? You … witch! You have done this. You have cast your spells. You lusted for him and you bewitched him. And her death is at your door.”

“Listen to me, Pilar. I am no witch. I know nothing of witchcraft. I was not here when Doña Isabella died.”

Her laughter was horrible, cruel and sneering.

“You knew nothing! You know everything. You, and those like you, are wise in the ways of the Devil. You marked her down, my innocent child. Had she not suffered enough? Nay. You wanted him. You cast a spell. And she died … my poor innocent lamb … my poor sweet child.”

“I cast no spells…”

“Don’t tell me your lies. Save them for others … when the time comes. They’ll not believe you any more than I do.” She thrust her hand under the pillow and when she brought it out she was holding something. To my horror I saw that it was the figure of Isabella.

“Where did you get that? Who gave it to you?” I demanded.

“I have it. The evidence. This will prove to them. And you will die … die … even as she died … and more cruelly.”

“Where did you get that?” I repeated. “I saw it but once when I found it in my drawer. You put it there, Pilar.”

“I? I have not left this bed.”

“Then someone working for you…”

“Tell them that when you stand before the tribunal. Tell them that when you feel the flames licking your limbs.”

I could not bear to stay longer. I knew there was nothing I could say to her. I turned and ran out of the room, down the staircase and out into the fresh air. I did not stop running until I reached the Hacienda.

Felipe was horrified when he heard what had happened.

“If she has informed against you they will strike at any time. We must be ready as soon as the ship comes.”

And so the uneasy days passed. One cannot live at such high tension day after day. One grows accustomed even to that.

Felipe said: “I can’t understand it. If she had informed against you they would have come by now. It is because she is sick that she has taken no action. While she is confined to her room she cannot move against us. While she is ill we are safe. And the ship will be here any day.”

I visualized the life which awaited us in Spain.

We should live in Don Felipe’s country estate. He would be in attendance on the King at times and have to pay his visits to the gloomy Escorial and perhaps be sent off on missions to other lands, in which case we should accompany him.

It would be a life not dissimilar to that which I had led at the Hacienda. I should never grow accustomed to Spanish solemnity, for I could never become a part of it; nor did I believe that Felipe wished me to, for he had loved me as I was and perhaps because I was so different from the women of his land.

I must try to forget England. I was married to a Spaniard; my son was half Spanish.

If I could but hear that my mother was safe and well and that she knew that I was, I suppose I could in time become reconciled and I wondered often what had become of John Gregory.

Soon the ship must come and we would leave this house in which I had experienced so many emotions. I would try to start afresh when I left it—as I must.

I talked a great deal to Honey of the future. She had adjusted herself more easily than I. She was less tempestuous—or perhaps she was more successful in disguising her feelings. Just as she had appeared to be completely happy with Edward now she seemed so with Luis.

Her attitude was that we must accept life and do our best to be happy in it.

Our parting would be a bitter blow to us both, but we must accept it. We must think of our reunion which both Felipe and Luis had promised us should come in time.

My fears were almost lulled to rest when on that never-to-be-forgotten night there came the knocking on the door.

The candles had been lighted. We sat in that gracious room—myself and Felipe, Honey and Luis. Honey was playing the lute; and how beautiful she looked with her graceful head bent a little and her eyes downcast so that her thick lashes made a dark shadow against her skin—Honey of the indestructible beauty which no hardship could impair.

She was singing a Spanish song. We did not sing the English ones, only when we were out together in the open where none could hear.

Then we heard the sound from without.

We started up. Felipe came swiftly to my side. He put his arm around me. He wanted me to go up to our bedroom so that he could hide me there.

But already we could hear the voices and knocking on the door in the portico. Someone screamed and then there were the sounds of footsteps.

The door of the salon was flung open. I saw John Gregory and a great joy swept over me.

“He comes from England,” I cried.

And then I saw the man I had pictured so many times, his eyes flashing blue fire and there was mockery and murder in them. Jake Pennlyon had come to the Hacienda.

He was looking at me and he laughed triumphantly when he saw me. “I’ve come for you,” he cried. “Which is the fellow who took my woman?”

He was terrifying, magnificent and invincible. How many times, when I had first been brought to Tenerife, had I imagined his coming just like this.

He had turned to Felipe. Some instinct seemed to tell him that he was the one. Then I saw Felipe throw up his arms and fall to the floor.

“Oh, God,” I cried, for Jake’s sword was dripping with blood. I felt sick with horror. Jake had seized me.

“Did you doubt I’d come?” he cried. “God’s Death, it’s been a long time.”

How difficult it is to remember the details of that bewildering and horrifying night. My thoughts were dominated by one terrible truth. Felipe was dead and Jake had killed him.

When I shut my eyes I can see the salon—the bloodstained tapestry, the bodies of men, bloody and inert lying on the mosaic tiles. Honey’s husband was among them; he lay close to Felipe. I was aware of Jake’s men stripping the walls and I realized they were taking away all objects of value.

As I stood there staring down at the body of Felipe whom I knew now I had deeply loved, I thought of the children and ran out to the stairs which led to the nursery. Jake Pennlyon was beside me. It was so long since I had seen him, I had forgotten the power of the man.

He said: “Where go we then? To our bed? Why, girl, you’ll have to wait for that. We’ve work to do this night. We’ve got what we came for, but there’s no need to go back emptyhanded.”

“There are children,” I said.

“What?”

“My son.”

“Your son?”

“Yours too,” I answered.

I tried to escape from him, but he gripped me firmly. We went up to the stairs. The children were awake. Roberto ran to me and I caught him in my arms.

“Your son … this black brat,” cried Jake Pennlyon.

“It is all right, Roberto,” I soothed. “No harm shall come to you, my son.”

Jake Pennlyon’s blue eyes blazed with fury. “So you were got with child by a poxy Don. I’ll have no Spanish vermin on my ship.”

I held the child firmly in my arms.

Carlos and Jacko had come up. Carlos stared at Jake Pennlyon with frank curiosity.

“And these?”

“Yours,” I said. “Your sons, Jake Pennlyon—one got on a Spanish lady and the other on a serving wench.”

He stared down at the boys. Then he put out a hand and let it rest on the shoulder of Carlos. “God’s Death!” he said. Then he took Carlos’ chin and jerked his face up. Then he did the same to Jacko. They met his gaze fearlessly. Jake Pennlyon burst into great laughter. Carlos, uncertain, laughed too. Jake took a handful of Carlos’s hair and pulled it. There was a certain emotion in his face.

He released Carlos and slapped him on the back. The boy staggered but was looking eager and expectant still. Jacko had stepped a little forward, not wishing to be left out.

“Why,” said Jake, “I’d have known you two anywhere.”

Then he looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “These boys should have been yours and you got with child by a poxy Don!” He looked down at the boys. “Get warm clothes on,” he roared. “Bring what you can—everything you can lay your hands on. You’re going on the finest ship that ever sailed the seas.”

Honey, weeping quietly, had come in for Edwina. She picked her up and held her in her arms.

“Make ready,” growled Jake Pennlyon, “and follow me.”

We went down the stairs; packhorses were waiting for us. They had been taken from Felipe’s stables. Already articles of value were being loaded onto them. It must have been midnight when we started to ride to the coast.

There was a faint moon to show us the way and the going was slow.

Jake Pennlyon rode beside me and I held Roberto on my mule. Jennet was there, her eyes wide with excitement; Manuela kept close to the children, quietly determined to follow them; Honey, widowed twice and in a like manner, her beautiful face now impassive, held Edwina on her mule. Jacko rode with Jennet and Carlos had a mule to himself.

I felt as though I were living in a nightmare. I could not forget Felipe lying in his blood, he who, a short while before, had been alive and so concerned for my safety, and all that had happened in the last hour seemed quite unreal. I was certain I would wake up soon.

There was Jake Pennlyon—I had forgotten how vital a man could be—the murderer of Felipe, whom I had grown to love.

I should never forget Felipe’s gentle courtesy, his deep and abiding kindness to me. And Jake Pennlyon had killed him. How I hated Jake Pennlyon.

And so we came to the coast and there, a mile or so from the land, lay the Rampant Lion.

We rowed out to her; we scrambled aboard.

The spoils which Jake Pennlyon’s men had taken from the Hacienda were stowed away.

It was beginning to be light when the Rampant Lion shipped anchor and we sailed for England.

Homecoming

THE FAMILIAR CREAKING OF timbers, the rolling and pitching of a ship at sea—it came back to me so vividly. Jake Pennlyon’s cabin was not unlike that of the galleon’s Captain. It was less spacious and the deck head was lower. The same kind of instruments were there. I saw the astrolabe and the cross staff, the compasses and hourglasses.

We were taken to his cabin, Honey, Jennet and I with the children. Edwina clung to her mother as Roberto did to me but Jake Pennlyon’s boys were examining the cabin; they were into everything, trying to understand how the astrolabe worked and chattering in a kind of half English and half Spanish language of their own.

Jennet was smiling to herself. “Wel, fancy, ’twere the Captain himself,” she kept murmuring.

Honey sat limply staring in front of her as though she were in a trance. I knew how she felt. She had lost a husband whom she loved—even as I had. Hundreds of memories must be crowding into her mind as they were into mine.

Felipe, I thought, I loved you. I never let you know how much because I didn’t realize it myself until I saw you lying there.

Then it was back in my mind—that hideous memory. I could see the blood staining his jacket, making a pool about his body. I could see the blood on the walls and Jake Pennlyon’s dripping sword.

I must try to shut that terrible picture out of my mind.

“The children should be sleeping,” I said.

“Oh, Mistress, do you think they could after such a night?” asked Jennet.

“They must,” I replied. I was thankful that at least they had not seen the murders. I wondered what was happening now. How many of the servants had survived, what they would say in the morning. Pilar at the Casa Azul would cry out that it was the witch’s work—the English witch who had fascinated the Governor and brought him to his death.

The door of the cabin opened and John Gregory came in.

“Well,” I said, “here is the double traitor.”

“Did you not want to go home?” he demanded. “Was it not what you hoped and prayed for?”

I was silent. I was thinking of Don Felipe. I could not stop thinking of him.

“You are to be taken to a cabin where you will sleep. I will show you.”

We followed him along an alleyway and into a cabin which was considerably smaller than the one we had left. There were blankets on the deck.

“You may all rest here. Captain Pennlyon will see you later. He will be busy for some hours yet.”

I followed John Gregory into the alleyway.

“I want to know what happened in England,” I said.

“I left in good faith,” he said.

“Did you ever know good faith? Which master did you serve?”

“I serve Captain Pennlyon who is my true master and was ere I was taken by the Spaniards.”

“You betrayed him once.”

“I was taken and submitted to torture. I was made to obey but when I saw once more the green fields of home I knew where my loyalty lay. I never want to leave my country again.”

“You found my mother? You gave her my letter?”

“I gave her your letter.”

“And what said she?”

“I never saw such joy in any face as when I placed your letter in her hands and told her you were well.”

“And then?”

“She said you must be brought home and she bid me take a message to Captain Pennlyon, your betrothed husband, to tell him where you were. She said I must take him to you and that he would bring you safely home.”

“And this you did. You were a traitor to him and to your new master. And now you have returned to the old. How long will you be faithful to him, John Gregory?”

“You are sailing for home, Mistress. Are you not content to do so?”

I said: “There was bloody murder in Trewynd Grange on that night when we were taken away. There was bloody murder at the Hacienda. These murders are at your door, John Gregory.”

“I understand you not. I have expiated my sin.”

“Your conscience must trouble you,” I said. I asked myself: How near had I come to loving Don Felipe? I did love him. Surely this emptiness I now feel, this numbed despair was due to love.

I went back to the cabin. Roberto was looking anxiously for me, so I took him in my arms and soothed him. Edwina was fast asleep. Carlos and Jacko were whispering together.

I said: “We should all lie down. Though I do not expect we shall sleep.”

In a short time Jennet was breathing noisily. I looked at her contemptuously and asked myself of what she dreamed. Of further tumbling with the Captain? How wantonly her eyes had shone at the sight of him.

Honey lay still.

I whispered: “Honey, what are you thinking?”

She answered: “I keep seeing him lying there. A man who has slept at your side … in whose arms you have lain… There was so much blood, Catharine. I can’t forget it. I see it wherever I look.”

“You loved Luis?”

“He was gentle and kind. He was good to me. And you Felipe, Catharine?”

“He took me against my will, but he was never brutal. I think he soon began to love me. Sometimes I think I shall never be loved as I was by Don Felipe.”

“Jake Pennlyon…” she began.

“Do not speak of him.”

“We are in his ship. What will happen do you think?” I shivered. “We must wait and see,” I said.

We must have dozed a little, for it was morning. The ship rocked gently, so the weather was calm. There was food for us—beans and salt meat with ale. It was brought by John Gregory. As on that previous occasion he had been given the task of guarding us.

“All’s well,” he said. “There is a fair wind and we are on course for England. The crew have had a double ration of rum for last night’s work. The Captain has promised them a share of his booty when we’re safe in the Hoe. He wishes to speak with Mistress Catharine when she has eaten.”

I was silent and in no mood for food. Roberto said he did not like the food, but I noticed Carlos and Jacko ate heartily. Edwina ate some beans and Jennet did justice to her share, but Honey could not eat. We drank a little of the ale, which tasted bitter, but at least it was cooling.

John Gregory conducted me to the Captain’s cabin.

Jake Pennlyon roared, “Come in,” when he knocked.

I stepped inside.

“Come and sit down,” said Jake Pennlyon.

I sat on the stool which was fixed to the deck. He said: “This is your second sea voyage. A little different from the first, eh?”

“The galleon was a finer ship,” I said.

He pursed his lips contemptuously. “I’d like to meet her. Then I could show you who is master.”

“She had an armament of eighty cannon. I doubt you could match that.”

“So we have become a sailor, since we sailed with the Dons! You’ll never see that one again.”

I shuddered. Once more I saw him clearly there on the floor, his blood mingling with the mosaic tiles.

“John Gregory told me you had been questioning him.”

“Do you expect silence from your captives?”

“Captives! Who speaks of captives. I have rescued you from God knows what. I am taking you home.”

I said: “Don Felipe Gonzáles was my husband.”

The color flooded his face.

“I know he got a Spanish brat on you.”

“We had a son,” I said.

“Married you!” he spat out. “That was no marriage.”

“Solemnized according to the rites of the church,” I went on.

“The Catholic Church. How could you sink so low!”

I laughed at him. “You are a very religious man, I know. You lead a life of piety. All your actions are those which one would expect of a holy man.”

“I am a man of tolerance. I am even ready to take my wife back even though she has played the whore with a filthy Don.”

“He was a man of fine and cultured manners such as you could never understand.”

He took me by the forearm and shook me; I thought at once of the gentle hands of Felipe.

“You were betrothed to me. That betrothal was binding. It was as good as marriage.”

“I did not regard it as such. If I had I would never have entered into it.”

“You lie. You wanted me. You would have been my wife, you would have been at Pennlyon Court had you not been sick of the sweat.”

“I never was sick of the sweat.”

He stared at me. Oh, I had deceived him completely then.

“It was a ruse. It was a way of keeping you off. Now, Jake Pennlyon, was I eager for you? When I kept to my bed for weeks to escape you?”

“You were suffering from the sweat. I saw your face.”

“A concoction … a paste, spread lightly over the face. Even you lost your lust when you saw that!”

“You … devil!” he said.

“In Tenerife they called me a witch and you call me a devil. In truth, all I am is a woman seeking to escape from a man she does not want.”

He was shaken. So he had not really believed in my reluctance, so great was his conceit.

He said at length: “I shall marry you when we reach Devon. In spite of everything I will honor my bond.”

“I will release you,” I promised him. “I will leave Devon and take my son with me to my mother. She will be happy to have us.”

“I have not risked much to bring you home for that. You will honor your promise and when you have a son of whom you can be proud you will forget that you so demeaned yourself as to go through a ceremony of marriage with a Spanish dog.”

“You are to blame for everything that happened,” I cried. “You with your lust and your cruelty and your wickedness. It was no ordinary raid which was made that night. It was for revenge because of what you had done to Don Felipe. You had ravished the innocent child he was to marry; you left your seed there. Carlos! Oh, yes, your eyes light at the sight of him. There is no doubt that he is your son. It is due to this and a proud Spaniard’s desire for revenge that I was taken as you took that girl. Because I was betrothed to you. Betrothed to you through blackmail. There never was a more unwilling partner in such a bond! So because of your wanton lust I was taken and submitted to similar treatment.”

He clenched his hands. I knew he was imagining me fighting with all my strength and finally being overcome.

“He was not like you,” I said. “He did not want violence. It was not lust for a woman but for revenge. You are responsible for everything. You … you … from the moment you came into my life you have destroyed my peace. Because of you this has happened to me.”

“You liked him. You agreed to marry him. Or was that for the child?”

“You would not understand this man. There could not be one less like you. He explained to me what was to happen. He did not come himself to get me and it was not until I reached the Hacienda that I was forced to submit. He offered me a choice. He did not wish to use violence. I was trapped. So I was passive. Then … he loved me and he married me … and life was not unpleasant.”

“So my wildcat was tamed … tamed by a dirty poxy Don.”

I turned away. As always I was, to my fury, excited by the presence of Jake Pennlyon. I felt alive now as I had not since I left England. I was actually enjoying the battle with him and I was disgusted with myself—particularly that this could happen so soon after Felipe’s death.

He sensed this, I know. For suddenly he had me pinioned; he held me against him.

He kissed me then and I felt an excitement which Felipe had never aroused in me.

He said: “I’ll not let the fact that you were a Spaniard’s whore stop our marriage.”

“Dare say that again.”

“Spaniard’s whore,” he said.

I lifted a hand to strike him, but he caught the hand by the wrist.

He bent me backward and again his mouth was on mine. He said: “Ah, Cat, ’tis good to have you back again. I was too kind to your Spaniard. I should have brought him back to the ship and had sport with him before I dispatched him to the torment of hell.”

I said, “I hate you when you speak of him. He was a good man.”

“We’ll forget him, for I have you back and to hold you thus and know that ’ere long you and I will be as one gives me such delight I have not known since you went away.”

When he said those words I felt a lifting of my spirits. I knew that I had missed him, that I had thought of him often, that although I hated him my hatred was in itself a fierce enjoyment. It was like coming out into keen fresh air after a long stay in prison. I was exultant, and I must be true to myself and admit that Jake Pennlyon had done that to me.

I knew that he would not allow me to escape him during the long voyage home. I knew he would force me to become his mistress within the next few days.

It was as inevitable as night following the day. Yet even as I mourned for Felipe I could not suppress a wild exultation.

For three days I held him off. I believe that was how he wanted it to be. He wanted to tease himself; to let me think I had a chance of winning in this battle, for battle it was. But it was inevitable that this would not go on. There he was in that floating world of which he was the indisputable master; he could have taken me at any time he wished. But he held off … just for three days.

He wanted to keep me in suspense. He enjoyed his verbal battles with me. Physically I was no match for him, but I was more than a match with my wits. I was trapped, of course. There was no way in which I could hide from him on his own ship.

For those three days the weather was ideal. There was enough wind to keep us on course. It was a wonderful sight to stand on deck and see those sails billowing out. Despite myself, I began to be proud of the Rampant Lion and admit that she had a quality which the stately galleon had lacked. The Lion was a faster vessel; she had less to carry; she was jaunty, confident; and I knew too that Jake Pennlyon was her master as the Captain had never been of his galleon. I guessed there would never be near mutiny on Jake Pennlyon’s Lion.

It was dusk. We had eaten and I came upon him in the alleyway near his cabin.

He barred my way and said: “Well met.”

“I am going to the children,” I told him.

“Nay,” he replied, “you are coming with me.”

He took my arm then and pulled me into his cabin.

The lantern swinging from the deck head gave a dim light.

“I have waited long enough for you,” he said. “Look, the wind is rising. It could mean stormy weather.”

“What has that to do with me?”

“Everything. You’re on the ship and the weather is of great concern to you. I could be occupied with my ship. I want time for dalliance with my woman.”

“I had thought you had begun to understand that I wished to be left alone.”

“You thought nothing of the sort.”

He pulled the comb from my hair so that it fell about my shoulders.

“That is how I fancy you,” he said.

I said: “If you are looking for someone on whom to satisfy your lust may I recommend you to the maid Jennet.”

“Who wants the substitute when the real thing is there for the taking?”

“If you imagine that I shall submit willingly … and eagerly … and that I am of a like mind to Jennet…”

“You lack the girl’s honesty. You suppress your desires, but you don’t deceive me into thinking they are not there.”

“It must be comforting I dare swear to have such a high conceit of yourself.”

“Enough of this,” he cried and at one stroke stripped my bodice from my shoulders.

I knew of course that the moment which I had resisted for so long had come. I was not the innocent girl I had been when I had first come to Devon. Already I had been taken in humiliation—for revenge not for lust—and later I had become accustomed to my life with Don Felipe. I had borne a child. Indeed I was no innocent.

But I fought as any nun might have fought for her virginity. I could not deny to myself that I experienced a wild exhilaration in the fight. My great concern was to keep my feelings from him. I was determined to resist for as long as I could as I knew the climax was foregone. He laughed. It was a battle which of course he won. I could not understand the wild pleasure that he gave me; it was something I had not experienced or imagined before. I was murmuring words of hatred and he of triumph; and why that should have given me greater satisfaction than I had ever experienced before I cannot say.