The Darrell family had been the happy dwellers of their fine house on
the Alamar rancho for nearly two months, and the three Misses Holman had
been the guests of the Alamar family for the same length of time, and
now the month of September, 1872, had arrived.
The awnings at the east and south side of the front veranda were down,
and in that deliciously cool place, the favorite resort of the Alamar
ladies, they now sat with their guests--the Holmans--engaged in
different kinds of fancy work, the greater portion of which was intended
to be wedding presents for Elvira and Lizzie Mechlin, who were to be
married in a few months.
Mercedes was the only one not at work. She was reclining on a hammock,
reading.
"Arn't you going to work anything for the girls, Mercedes?" Rosario
inquired.
"Which girls?" Mercedes asked, with her eyes fixed on her book.
"Lizzie and Elvira, of course," Rosario answered.
"I will when the wedding day is fixed."
"It will soon be, when George arrives," Dona Josefa said.
"That will be time enough for my work," said Mercedes, looking from her
book down the valley, towards the Darrell house, as if casually
observing from under the awning the green meadows below.
"What made you come here? The back veranda is entirely shaded, and much
cooler. I have been waiting for you there. Pshaw!" said Victoriano,
coming forward and stretching open a hammock to throw himself into it.
"Had we known that, we would all have rushed there," said Corina Holman.
"In a perfect stampede," added Rosario.
"I thought you had gone with your father," Dona Josefa said.
"No, he said he might stay to lunch at aunt's. It is too hot a day to be
riding about in the sun."
"Certainly, after having been in the moon for two months the change of
temperature might hurt you," said Amelia Holman.
"That's a fact; I have been in the moon ever since _you_ came," assented
Victoriano.
"Your moon stays in the valley, it doesn't rise to this level," said
Amelia.
"It is a lovely moon wherever it may shine. I say, Baby, won't you go
with me to the Darrells this evening?" asked he, addressing Mercedes,
who had made no reply, for the reason that she had just seen Clarence
coming on horseback, and, as usual, when any one spoke of him, or she
unexpectedly saw him, she found it necessary to take a little time, in
order to steady her voice, which otherwise might betray her heart's
tumult.
"Mercedes' French novel must be very interesting," Carlota said.
"It is not a novel--it is French History," said Madam Halier.
"Mercedes, Tano wants you to escort him this evening," said Rosario.
"Will you take him?"
"Where?" Mercedes asked, without moving.
"To the moon," said Corina.
"She means to the third heaven," rejoined Victoriano.
"I declare, the God of Love is truly miraculous. I think it could even
poetize the Pittikin girls, or the Hughes, in Tano's opinion," said
Carlota.
"Talk of the angels, and you hear the clatter of their hoofs," said
Rosario; "there he is at the gate."
"This awning is too low--we don't see people until they are upon us,"
said Carlota.
"I am off. I suppose he will stay to lunch, that will give me all I want
of his charming society," said Rosario, rising to go as Clarence
dismounted at the gate.
"Stay, he has seen us all; it would be discourteous to leave now," said
Dona Josefa, and Rosario remained.
Victoriano jumped out of the hammock to meet Clarence.
"Hallo, yourself and welcome! Any news?"
"Yes, _big_ news," Clarence replied, blushing crimson,--not at the news
he brought, as one might have supposed,--but because he had just seen
two little feet, in a tiny pair of slippers, with blue rosettes, which
he well knew. These little blue rosettes had set his heart to beating,
sending more than the normal amount of blood to his head.
On leaving her hammock to take a chair Mercedes had shown those
tantalizing tip ends of her slippers, half hidden in a mass of lace
ruffles. That was all, and yet poor Clarence was disconcerted, and
became more and more so, on perceiving that there were not less than
nine ladies on that veranda; nine pairs of eyes which had undoubtedly
observed his own, devouring the blue rosettes.
"What is the news, pray? Don't kill us with suspense," pleaded Miss
Corina Holman.
"The news is that Colonel Scott has arrived at San Francisco, and will
be in San Diego next week."
"Hurrah," shouted Victoriano, "now we'll all be rich."
"How do you make that out?" Rosario asked.
"Never mind how, we'll not go into particulars."
"No, better not," Rosario advised.
"Papa will be so glad to hear this news," said Mercedes, "and Mr.
Holman, also. He'll come down now, will he not?"
"Yes, father will come down with Col. Scott, and may be build us a house
right away," said Amelia.
"There is papa now; I am so glad," Mercedes exclaimed.
"I must run with the news to him," said Victoriano, rushing madly
through the hall, to the _patio_, or court, where Don Mariano had just
dismounted.
The news was so gladdening to Don Mariano, that he came immediately to
propose to the young ladies to have a dance that evening.
"But where are the gentlemen? There are plenty of ladies, but unless you
invite squatters"--Rosario began, but Dona Josefa stopped her with a
look.
"Let us see," said Don Mariano, counting on his fingers, "there are
three or four Darrells, and six or eight Alamares, if my brothers and
half of my nephews come. That ought to be enough, I think."
"Plenty. I'll send a vaquero to aunt's to call the boys, and you bring
your brothers and sisters, Clarence," said Victoriano.
"With pleasure," was Clarence's reply.
"There will surely be some fellows from town this evening, and we'll
make them stay," added Victoriano.
The dance took place and was followed by many others. The Alamar family
were very hospitable, and had many visitors, who were only too glad to
spend their evenings, dancing with charming and refined young ladies,
whose society was certainly most attractive.
There were several young gentlemen from the Eastern States stopping at
the principal hotel in San Diego, and they came to Alamar almost daily,
to have a dance, or picnic, or musicale, or a card party.
These gayeties were not confined to the Alamar and Mechlin and Darrell
families, nor was the Alamar rancho only made happy because Tom Scott
was coming. The entire county of San Diego was buoyed up with hopes of
prosperity, which now seemed founded upon a solid basis.
As for the town of San Diego itself, the dwarfed and stunted little
city, she went crazy with joy. Her joy, however, was not of the
boisterous, uproarious kind, it was of a mild character, which smiles at
everybody, and takes all that comes in good part, ready always to join
in the laugh on herself, provided everybody enjoys it. She was happy,
seeing a broad vista of coming prosperity in the near future. Why not?
She had every reason and every right to expect that the Texas Pacific
would be built.
At last, Col. Scott arrived, and drove to the principal hotel, where a
deputation of the most prominent citizens immediately waited on him to
pay their respects, and learn his wishes as to how his time should be
occupied during his stay in San Diego. The city desired to honor the
distinguished guest with liberal hospitality, but the business of the
railroad was the main point in view. There were speeches to be made at
"Armory Hall," with meetings and consultations to be had at nights,
besides drives to examine the town site and surrounding country during
the day. The ladies wished to give him a ball, but the business men said
Tom Scott did not come to dance, he came to work. There was a banquet
given to him, but no ladies were present, only men, and plenty of
railroad speeches. The ladies could only meet him at private receptions
in the evening, when he was tired out with driving. Yet, this was the
best that could be done, as his time was limited. But he was amiable,
the ladies were amiable, and the gentlemen were amiable. So the little
city of San Diego gave all she had to give; all the lands that had
belonged to the old "San Diego & Gila R. R. Co.," all that had been
transferred to "The Memphis & El Paso R. R. Co.," all the town lands,
water front and rights of way that could by any means be obtained, all
was most generously proffered, adding more lands than those originally
given to the road under the old names of "The San Diego & Gila Railroad"
or "The Memphis & El Paso Railroad."
Col. Scott left well satisfied with the people of San Diego, and the
people were charmed with Col. Scott. Speculation then ran wild. Town
lots were bought and sold at fancy prices, but in the madness of the
hour folly seemed wisdom.
Among the heaviest investors, Don Mariano Alamar, Mr. James Mechlin, and
Mr. Alfred Holman were the most prominent. They bought block after block
of building lots, and only stopped when their money was all invested.
Clarence also bought a few blocks, and George and Gabriel risked all
they dared. Many other people followed this (which proved to be
disastrous) example, and then all sat down to wait for the railroad to
bring population and prosperity.
----
The day of the double wedding which was to tie together (with a double
loop) the Alamar and Mechlin families, was set for the 24th of May,
1873. On that day Gabriel and George would lead to the altar their
respective sisters, Lizzie and Elvira.
Don Mariano wished to celebrate that double wedding in the same
old-fashioned way in which his own had been solemnized. He wanted at
least three days of good eating and drinking, and dancing; to have noise
and boat racing; to have a day's sailing on the bay, and a day's picnic
in the woods, to which picnic even the stubborn, hostile squatters
should be invited. But with the sole exception of Victoriano, no one of
his family approved this programme.
"I'm afraid my dear husband that we are too closely surrounded by
Americans for us to indulge in our old-fashioned rejoicings," Dona
Josefa said.
"We would be laughed at," Carlota added.
"Who cares for that?" Victoriano asked, scornfully.
"I don't believe that the right thinking and kind-hearted Americans
would say anything, except that such is customary among us. But if
George and Gabriel desire to run off in the steamer, as though they were
ashamed of matrimony, I say let them have their way. But they will have
a wedding that will look like a funeral," said the disappointed Don
Mariano.
"George and Gabriel are willing to have their wedding celebrated as you
propose, but it is the girls that object; they wished to run off and
hide for a month in a fashionable hotel in San Francisco; afterward they
came to the conclusion that they didn't want to go to a hotel, so
Gabriel proposed that they will take the steamer that goes to Mazatlan
and Guaymas and La Paz, thus to visit all of those places on their
wedding tour," Victoriano said. "As George had been wishing to see the
Mexican coast, this plan suited all very well, and George has written to
have the steamer stop for them on her way south," Victoriano explained,
half apologetically, half resentfully.
"That is all right; if they are satisfied I am," said Don Mariano,
philosophically, with characteristic amiability.
The steamer running between San Francisco and the Mexican ports on the
Gulf of California stopped at San Diego to take the newly married
couples; a large party of friends escorted them on board.
Don Mariano was kind and affable to all, but many days passed before he
became reconciled to the fact that the marriage of his two children was
not celebrated as his own had been, in the good old times of yore.
The brides and grooms had been gone for some time, and might now be
coming back in a few days.
"I am glad we three are alone, for there is something of which I wish to
speak with you two when no one of the family is with us," said Dona
Josefa to Carlota and Rosario, as they sat in their favorite front
veranda, sewing.
The girls looked up, and casting a quick glance to see whether any one
was approaching, waited to hear what their mother had to say. The
awnings being only half down no one could come from the outside
unobserved.
"What is it, mamma?" Carlota asked, seeing that her mother seemed to
hesitate; "anything unpleasant?"
"Well, no--yes. That is to say, to me it is, very. Have you noticed
Mercedes' manner lately? She seems absorbed, silent, thoughtful, sad,
and--and--you know what I fear. She says she is not sick, then it is
some mental trouble, I am sure. So, then, I have been thinking that she
had better go with Elvira and visit New York for a while, the change
will do her good. I do not approve of young girls going from home on
visits, but as she will go with her married sister, and--and--I hope it
will be for her good."
"And yet it may not," said Carlota.
"Perhaps, if it is as you--as we three--fear, absence might be worse for
her," added Rosario; "Mercedes is very gentle, but she is very loving
and constant, so it might do more harm than good to send her away now.
Remember what the poet says about it:
'La ausencia es para el amor
Lo que el aire para el fuego;
Si es poco, lo apaga luego,
Si es grande, lo hace mayor.'
and I fear that Mercedes is too deeply interested already."
"That is so. Have you spoken to papa about it?" Carlota asked.
"I mentioned it only once, knowing his partiality to Clarence," Dona
Josefa replied.
"He might be partial, but when it comes to the danger of his daughter's
marrying a _squatter_ I should think there would be a limit to
partiality," Carlota said, warmly.
"I fear your father views the matter differently. The one time I
mentioned to him that Clarence seemed to be more and more in love with
Mercedes, and my fear that she also liked him more than I care to
believe. He said, 'Has he made love or proposed to her?' I told him I
hoped he had not been so audacious as that. 'Audacious!' said he, and
laughed. 'I tell you, wife, if all that is necessary for Clarence to
propose be courage, neither you nor I can stop him, for the boy is no
coward. I reckon that it is Mercedes herself who gives him no
encouragement; that is what deters him, but none of our _sangre azul_,'
and he laughed again. I said to him, you take very coolly a matter that
might be a question of our child's fate for life, but he only appeared
amused at my anxiety. He said: 'Don't borrow trouble; Clarence is a most
excellent young fellow--bright, energetic and honorable. Don't bother
them or yourself; if they feel true love they have a right to it. Trust
him, he is all right.'"
"But a squatter! The idea of an Alamar marrying a squatter! For
squatters they are, though we dance with them," Carlota said. "I am
shocked at papa's partiality. I must say yes, mamma, send poor Mercita
away."
"Yes; with all due respect to papa, I fear I will not be reconciled to
the idea of Mercedes being a daughter-in-law of old Darrell," Rosario
said, with a shudder.
"Neither could I," added Carlota.
And thus felt and thus reasoned these proud ladies _in those days_. For
although the shadows of black clouds were falling all around, they had
not observed them, or suspected their proximity; they held up their
heads proudly.
"And has Clarence the means of supporting a wife?" Rosario asked. "That
is another question to be considered."
"I don't know. I heard he had made money in stocks, but I don't know how
much," Dona Josefa replied.
"I have no faith in stocks," said Carlota.
"Let us not mention this to Mercedes yet. When Elvira returns we will
consult with her," Dona Josefa said.
Nothing was said to Mercedes about her journey, but she was never
allowed to see Clarence alone.
Elvira returned, and the project mentioned to her. She, as a matter of
course, was delighted at the prospect of having her favorite sister with
her. The pain of leaving her home would be lessened in her company.
A day or two after, when Elvira was alone in her room, Mercedes came in,
looking rather pale, and letting herself drop into the first chair she
came to, said:
"What is this unexpected news about my going to New York with you?"
"Good news, I think. Don't you like it?"
"Certainly. But it is too sudden. Why hadn't mamma thought of it
before?"
"Because she did not think your health required any change."
"I tell you what, mamma alarms herself unnecessarily, and puts but poor
reliance on me. I understand it all, but as a trip to New York is a most
delightful medicine, I am willing to take it, and that she should
consider my health in a precarious state."
"But you _do_ look pale and thin, Mercita."
"Nonsense!" Mercedes exclaimed. "I have been keeping late hours, and
dancing too much. If I go to bed early I shall get back my good color
and flesh again. However, I am glad to play the invalid until I get on
board the cars."
"Very well. I'll be alarmed for you, too, until we get off."
Mercedes laughed, and went to her room singing, but once there her
gayety vanished. She locked her door, and threw herself on the bed,
burying her face in her pillow to stifle her sobs.
"Can anything tear his image from my heart? No. Nothing! nothing! They
may send me away to the other end of the world, they shall not part us,
for you will still fill my heart, my own darling, holding my very soul
forever in full possession."
Mercedes, being not quite seventeen, her grief at parting from Clarence
was wild, vehement and all-absorbing. But she had been trained to
obedience, and her battles with the spirit always took place after she
carefully locked her bedroom door. Then Clarence was wildly
apostrophized, and a torrent of tears relieved the overcharged, aching
heart.
The day of departure arrived, and she had not had one minute's
conversation alone with Clarence.