Alternative histories (Fiction); Science fiction; Time travel -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
The diplomat looked furious. Midbin explained hastily that the shock
which had caused her muteness had not entirely worn off. Unquestionably
she would recover her full memory in time, but for the present there
were still areas of forgetfulness. Her native language was part of the
past, he went on, happy with a new audience, and the past was something
to be pushed away since it contained the terrible moment. English on
the other hand—”
“I understand,” said the diplomat stiffly, resolutely addressing
none of us. “It is clear. Very well then. The Señorita García is
heir—heiress to an estate. Not a very big one, I regret to say. A
moderate estate.”
“You mean land and houses?” I asked curiously.
“A moderate estate,” he repeated, looking attentively at his gloved
hand. “Some shares of stock, some bonds, some cash. The details will be
available to the señorita.”
“It doesnt matter,” said Catalina timidly.
Having put us all, and particularly me, in our place as rude and nosey
barbarians, he went on more pleasantly, “According to the records of
the embassy, the señorita is not yet eighteen. As an orphan living in
foreign lands she is a ward of the Spanish Crown. The señorita will
return with me to Philadelphia where she will be suitably accommodated
until repatriation can be arranged. I feel certain that in the proper
surroundings, hearing her natural tongue, she will soon regain its use.
The—ah—institution may submit a bill for board and lodging during her
stay.”
“Does he mean—take me away from here? For always?” Catalina, who had
seemed so mature a moment before, suddenly acted like a frightened
child.
“He only wants to make you comfortable and take you among your own
people,” said Mr Haggerwells. “Perhaps it is a bit sudden....”
“I can’t. Do not let him take me away. Hodge, Hodge—do not let him take
me away.”
“Señorita, you do not understand—”
“No, no. I won’t. Hodge, Mr Haggerwells, do not let him!”
“But my dear—”
It was Midbin who cut Mr Haggerwells off. “I cannot guarantee against
a relapse, even a reversion to the pseudo-aphonia if this emotional
tension is maintained. I must insist that Catalina is not to continue
the conversation now.”
“No one’s going to take you away by force,” I assured her, finally
finding my courage once Midbin had asserted himself.
The official shrugged, managing to intimate in the gesture his opinion
that the haven was of a very shady character indeed and had quite
possibly engineered the holdup itself.
“If the señorita genuinely wishes to remain for the present—” a lifted
eyebrow loaded the “genuinely” with meaning “—I have no authority at
the moment to inquire into influences that have persuaded her. No, none
at all. Nor can I remove her by—ah—I will not insist. No. Not at all.”
“That is very understanding of you, sir,” said Mr Haggerwells. “I’m
sure everything will be all right eventually.”
The diplomat bowed stiffly. “Of course the—ah—institution understands
it can hope for no further compensation—”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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