THE OPAL SKULL.

Waikato Argus, Volume II, Issue 121, 17 April 1897, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE OPAL SKULL.

* Op all places that oppress one with tho fruitlessncss of life, there is none like unto the southern portion of tho Colorado Itiver. Other river.; notably such a one as tho Gila—may How through as barren a country, but the desolation is different; it is suggestive of what is yet. (o be, while the Colorado, at tho south, rolls lifelessly through a land that is of a past so hopelessly dead, so far away, that there is neither memory of it remaining nor chance of resurrection of its vanished bono.:. There seems always to be visible from its banks, it' banks they can be called, some faint blue-gray mountain-peak in the distance, beyond tho plain with its rare groups of cottonwoode and its occasional lonely adobe. And there is something that makes one sad and restless in the sight of those misty lines of mountains, something a thousandfold more depressing than in a prairie that meets its own unbroken horizon. Evening which scsms the only time that should ever bothere — was coming upon this country of forgotten aeons?. Uhere was no color anywhere. The yellow of the sky only a pale glimmer over the whitening blue ; the green of tho trees was dulled by the dust and the twilight; the country was a level dun stretch, and the mountains tar, far away—• were only a shading of uncertain blue. There was but one house in sight, an adobe four hundred yards or less from the river; bub there was no sign or sound of life except the quiet rattling of the cottonwood leaves in the evening wind. Yet in among the willows by the river was a small, canvas-covered wagon. Two thin t>roncos were hobbled near the stream, and a man went out into the open in front of the adobe. He was in no hurry. All tho night was before him, so he stood, with his thumbs hooked in his cartridge-belt, looking at the house. He wondered if it would be worth his while to make the acquainance of the ' greasers' who undoubtedly inhabited it. They might offer him hospitality for the night; but he had learned by experience that Mexican hospitality usually implies dirt, and he disliked dirt. It was a question in his mind whether a blanket under tho wagon would nob be preferable. And while he debated, the flat board door of the adobe opened, and a woman came out. She was slender, therefore she was young —so reasoned the man, who knew Mexicans. More than that he could not see. After a time she went back into the houso, and ho fell to gathering sticks. When the moon rose, and he, having finished his supper, was sitting biside the dying camp fire, peacefully smoking, the low willows parted, and the girl of the adobe stood near him. She was pretty iu tho ideal Mexijan way—red and full lipped, brightly colored, largeeyed, with two great braids of purple-black hair ; and she was dressed with surprising neatness iu a fresh white frock and prude pink ribbons. ' Ah ! I beg your pardon, senor ; I knew not z.it you wear hier,' she cried, starting back. The man arose. He was aware that it was totally improbable that she had not seen him when she had beeti standing in the doorway j he was also aware that she must have observed tho smoke of his fire ; nevertheless, he spoke and said, ' Senorita, I will go away.' And he stood quite still. ' Ah ! no. Eet must be me to go,' and she, too, stood still. ' Est ees zat I come each night hier to seet, en' I knew note zat you wear heir,' she repeated. ' It gives me much pleasure to see you. Will you not sit here with me'!' He spread a blanket on the ground near the bright coals, and motioned to her, with a deep bow, to be seated. She took her place, and he, stretching himself at her feet, leaning upon one elbow, offered her a cigarette. Her name, it trauspired very soon, was Anita—Anita Manara ; his, he told her, was Richard Lovell. They fell atalking, and he did what he had expected her to do, responded with only enough reserve to keep up bhe illusion of flirtaion. Principles of severity may flourish upon mountain heights, may withstand great temptation, but on the southern prairies of a summer night, when the moon is full and shedding gold light through the willows, and a slow river trickles by, and the only voices are those of the crickets and a Mexican woman, and the woman is beautiful, morality is at ebb tide, and principles melt like hard, white pearls in wine. Here in the half.tropic South-West, with an unwise child of sixteen, of an amorous race, the rather lax code of honor of Richard Lovell fell from him. She told him about her life. 1 I was born hier,' she said, ' cen zat house. But w'en I twelf years am, I to Sin Diego go to school, an' zero I Eenglish learn, I speak nolo much Eenglish now, for zat I have only my muzzorun' my bruzzer, who zey speake but Spanish ; an' Carlos he can Eenglish spcake, but he like eet note.' ' Who is Carlos, sweetheart?' ' He ees my sweetheart, w'at I to marry him am.' ' Where is he ?' Tho young man drew a little away and sal. erect. ' He ees at zo mines in Conception. He has one mine for him, an' he

woel be sumo time reocli. He come to see me ze Sunday. Do you note Spanish spiulco—talk, sare Y ' No. dust a few words. And where is your brother?' ' He ees ?.is night far away. lie woel to-morrow woeth Carlos come back.' Lovell understood. lie resumed gradually his posture of adoration. When the cigarettes were finished, he held her hands, and in time he put his arm about her and kissed her, and forgot all the maxims of wisdom that hail ever been taught to him. So they sat—to all purposes alone in tho prairie—she with her black head upon his shoulder, ho caressing the soft, warm fingers. ' What is that ring V he asked, turning and toying with the only one she wore. ' Eet ees Carlos, lie geef eet to me. Well you see V She drew it oil. ' Eef you woel one match light,' He struck a wax one and held it to the ring. It was an opal set iu silver and carved in the shapo of a skull. Lovell knew enough of stones to understand the difficulty of cutting on opal. He knew the skill and patience it must require to shape it like this one. Thero was probably not another like it in the world ; certainly he had never seen it, if there were. In the bickering light it gleamed and sparkled blue, and red, and yellow fires, and the jaws seemed to contort themselves into a grin. ' How wonderful !' he ejaculated. ' Yes,' answered Anita, He was seized with a wild desire to obtain it, and he played boldly for it. ' Do you love me, Anita, sweetheart, beautiful Y he whispered, taking her face in his haud3 and looking into her eyes. She uttered a faint but sincere ' Y r es,' He kissed her again, not oucp, but many times, 'lf you love me, Anita you should give me the ring to remember you by —a keepsake, as we call it.' She slipped it into his hand. ' Ah ! no. Geef eet to me,' she cried of a sudden. « Why ?' 'Carlos, ho tell me ztt eet ees very—w'at you say I —note nice lucky.' ' then why did he give it to you Y ' He say ctt ees for a man, not for a woman, zat eet like zat.' ' I expect Carlos wanted to keep you from giving it away,' ' No. He says zat one man w'at keep eet for life year, he die sure.' ' I am not afraid. I would be glad to die to have your ring for ever a year. 1 ' No. Geef eet back to me.' Then you do not love me,' he said, dejectedly. • You are like all women you are glad to break a man's 'heart.' ' No ( no. 'I lofe you. You can keep eet. I will tell Carlos I loose eet.' 1 At the moment her mother called to her from tho adobe. She threw her plump arms about the American's neck and said a clinging good-by, as if her heart were sadly wrung. And for the time being she was in desperate earnest. At daybreak ho saw two horsemen, both Mexicans, ride up to the house. He guessed that they were the man Manara and Carlos ; and he hitched up the team quickly and wciV, in a fashion that suggested flight, taking the ring with him, .Now it happened—as such things will happen iu the new West—that Carlos Valera grew very rich within a few months and went to live in San Diego with his wife, and they were much courted and sought after, for Valera was generous and wellmannered and not ill-looking, and Senora Velera was bewitching and more than locally famous for her beauty, and possessed of a charm that is peculiar to women of her race who had learnt the usages of the world. They keep open house in the grand way of the wealthy Spanish-Americans of not so long ago. Never a day passed that more than one total stranger was not entertained. Thus it came about that upon a spring evening some years after her marriage, Ssnora Valera greeted with lovely ease and grace a guest whom her husband brought home with him, a Mr Richard Lovell, of Los Angelos. llut as she greeted him she glanced down at his hands and saw that he wore the opal skull. She turned to her husband and said in English that was perfect now, though made dainty by a slight lisp : ' Carlos, dear, will you sec if I left my opal-and-diamond pin on my dressingstand'? I think I took it out to wear, and forgot it. I don't want it to get lost like that other opal you gave mo before wo were married. I'm afraid they tire really unlucky stones; don't you think so, Mr Lovell? Would you mind going for it Carlos?' Valera left the room. ' Mr Lovell, take o(F that ring while you are here,' .she said, calmly. •1 have never taken it oil". And I'm sorry that I can't do so now.' ' If Mr Y.dera sees it. he will be as apt to kilt you as not. He is very jealous.' ' f fancy he has good reason.' ' Kindly keep your opinions where such unpleasant ones properly belong —in your own consciousness. You will be wise to do as 1 say, and to be. quick. Do you know that the live years is up to night V 1 1. doubt that sort of superstition. As I told you before, I'm not afraid, l'orhaps you {ire, though ? It ia

natural you should be. I will tell you what I will do, I'll take the ring oli'aiul put it in my pocket ' —he slipped it oll'itiul held it between his thumb and linger—'if you will kiss me again as you did on that night.' ' 1 will not. You would have forgotten that silliness of mine by now, if you had been fortunate enough to la; a gentleman.' ' Never !—not all those caresses and protestations. Come, kiss me again, and I'll hide the ring. ' No. Ttlr Valera will finish hunting for a pin that isn't there in a moment more, and if ho comes hackit may go ill with you—-it certainly will if he sees the ring.' ' Then kiss me.' ' I will not. 150 quick. I hear him coming. Quick !' ' Kiss me. You'd better, for your own sake,' ' No.' ' Then don't.' <Oh 1 hide that ring—do, for me.' 1 Kiss me.' ' Well, kiss me then.' He pub his hands onher shoulders and bent his head. He did not see Valera step into the French window, but he knew that the woman pulled away from him with a loud ' How daro you V and a scream, ' Cirlos, Carlos, help me Y Aud then he felt somothing'sharp driven deep between the shoulders, as he fell backward, .Senora Valera grasped at the ring and caught it from his hand. She put her own hand to her throat in the most accepted fashion of the conventional faint, and as she did so, dropped the jewel into the bosom of her gown. Then she lost consciousness. The story she told her husband was one of unprovoked impertinence on. the part of an utter stranger, a uia:t she had never seen before and the story he told the world was much the same, but slightly embellished. It was not plausible, yet it passed. It excused the murder without any great difficulty, and it was something of a feather in the cap of the beautiful Mexican—for this was in the earty days. Henora Valera ground the opal skull to bits with a heavy stone, and lcopt the chips in a locket, until one day she found an excuse to drive to the cemetery and scatter theni upon Lovell's grave,