Mercedes felt so comforted by what her father had said, that in less
than ten minutes after he left she was sleeping like the good child that
she was. Madam Halier watched her slumbers, coming to the door every few
minutes. And when she had slept and felt refreshed, she had a bath and a
luncheon of tea, cold chicken, fresh peaches with cream, and fresh
grapes just cut from the vines; then she was ready to dress herself and
take up her embroidery. She was afraid her eyes would yet be too swollen
for her to go into the parlor or veranda, and perhaps meet George or Mr.
Mechlin. So she stayed in her room.
But she was missed, and George came to knock at her door, and being
asked to come in, he did so, making a profound bow. Then counting on his
fingers as he spoke, began:
"Dona Josefa, Dona Beatrice, Dona Carlota, Dona Rosario, Dona Elvira,
Dona Carolina, Dona Elizabeth, all request the pleasure of your company
at a canning performance to take place this afternoon in the kitchen of
Dona Beatrice."
Mercedes laughed, asking: "Are they really going to do the canning? Who
knows about it?"
"They all know, theoretically, but as to practice, that '_quien sabe_.'
However, they are going to peal peaches by the bushel this evening, so
they will all dine there."
"Doesn't mamma expect papa to dinner?" asked she, alarmed; "I hope so."
"I'll go and inquire," George said, going; but she followed him,
trembling--she did not know why. She took George's arm, and both went to
the piazza, where Carlota, Rosario and Dona Josefa were waiting for
George to go with them.
"Mamma, don't you expect papa to dinner?" asked she.
"Yes, but he might be late; so we will dine at Mrs. Mechlin's, and he
and Gabriel will take supper here on their return."
"I will wait for them here."
"Will you not go to Mrs. Mechlin's?"
"No, please. I'll stay home."
"Take my advice, and don't see Clarence yet," Carlota said.
"Why not, pray?"
"Because, after what his father did and said, the least you have to do
with the Darrells the more it will be to your honor," Rosario said,
sententiously.
"And must I give up Clarence because--because his father gets mad,
and--and--"
"And insults your father, and insults you," Carlota said.
"But that would be awful," said she, looking at George, who full of
sympathy for his favorite sister-in-law, said:
"Do not worry about that now--you have suffered enough. No doubt,
Clarence will make it all right, if we only give him time. All will be
explained."
"I doubt that," Carlota said.
"I don't think Mercedes knows all that Darrell said. I think Clarence
himself will see the impossibility of his marrying Mercedes as things
are now," Dona Josefa said.
"What are we to do?" Mercedes exclaimed, in low, tremulous tones, that
revealed all the desolation she felt.
"Try to be courageous, little sister," Carlota said.
"What to do? Clarence himself ought to know--to separate for the
present. Will you marry the son of a man who said of you and your father
such horrible things?" Dona Josefa asked.
"But Clarence is innocent, and so am I," pleaded Mercedes, with white
lips.
"My daughter, do you not see that I _must_ withdraw my permission to
your marriage now?"
"Will you tell that to Clarence?" asked Mercedes, frightened.
"Certainly, as soon as I see him."
"And break our engagement?" she asked, with a voice scarcely audible.
"Certainly. What else, my daughter?"
"I want to go to my room," she said, slowly turning to go back, walking
as if in a dream.
George put his arm around her shoulder, and walked with her.
"Don't be discouraged, my dear _humanita_. Dona Josefa is justly
indignant now, but her anger will pass off, and she will see how absurd
it will be to punish you and Clarence for the sins of his ill-tempered,
foolish father. The only thing now is to drop the matter. 'Least said,
sooner mended,' applies to this case exactly."
"I wish papa were here. He don't think as mamma does. If mamma sees
Clarence first, she will send him away. Oh! that will be awful to me."
"We will keep your mamma at our house until Don Mariano returns. Tano
will see Clarence first."
When George left, Mercedes hurried to her bedside to pray. In all the
sad tribulations of her mind, her heart turned to her Redeemer and the
Blessed Virgin Mary. To them she told all her grief, all her trials, and
after begging to be strengthened, she always arose from her bended knees
comforted.
This time, however, her convulsive sobs only became more uncontrollable,
as she poured out her great sorrow and terrible fears before the pitying
Mother of suffering humanity.
When her sobs were almost a paroxysm, Madame Halier, who had come to the
door to listen, went, and much excited, told Dona Josefa that Mercita
would certainly be ill if some one didn't show a little humanity to her.
Dona Josefa hurried to Mercedes' room, and found her still at her
bedside sobbing and praying. Gently the mother lifted her child and
pressed her to her heart.
"Mercedes, darling, have courage. Your father and Clarence will talk
this matter over, and determine what is best to do. Perhaps it might all
be arranged."
"You will not tell Clarence to--that--to go away?"
"Certainly not. But there must be some other arrangement about the
wedding. It will be postponed, perhaps. Darrell could not be expected to
be present, or he might wish the engagement broken off."
Carlota and Rosario came in to see how Mercedes felt, as Madam Halier
seemed to be so anxious and indignant with everybody for their cruelty
to Mercedes.
"If old Darrell wants the engagement broken off, then my dear sister you
must break it--else he will have a good reason to say that papa wants to
sell you, or to entrap Clarence, for his money, into marrying you,"
Rosario said.
"Did Mr. Darrell say that?" Mercedes asked, blushing, so that her pale
face became suffused to the roots of her hair.
"He said worse--but you had better hear no more."
"That is awful!" the poor child exclaimed, clasping her hands in
eloquent protestation; then adding: "Mamma, I will try to have courage.
I don't know what I am to do. But if my father has been so grossly
insulted, I must feel for him. I must not be selfish. I don't know what
I'll do," and the unhappy girl pressed her hands to her forehead, as if
to keep together her distracted thoughts.
"I think the best thing for you to do is to go to bed. To-morrow your
father will see Clarence. That is George's advice, and I think it is
good," said her mother, as she kissed and embraced her, adding: "the
sweet, blued-eyed baby is too young to get married, any way, and can
well wait four years, and then be only twenty-two years old." But seeing
the blank despair in those expressive eyes, Dona Josefa hastened to add:
"I don't say that you will wait that long, but that you are young enough
to do so."
When Mercedes was again alone, she tried to think it was her duty to her
father to break her engagement. Her mind utterly refused to see the
matter in that light, but as her older sisters had said her engagement
ought to be broken off, and her mother spoke of the wedding being
postponed, it was clear that she could not be married on the 16th. Would
Clarence be willing to wait? and these thoughts revolved around her mind
in a circle of coils, worse than the one which so enraged and hurt
Darrell.
Madam Halier and Victoriano ate their dinner alone--with Milord for sole
company. Poor Tano, though he had laughed heartily at Darrell's plight,
was scarcely less distressed than Mercedes, and anxiously looked for
Clarence's return.
In the meantime this young gentleman was traveling at the rate of twelve
miles per hour, and would have come faster had the road been better. He
had been obliged to delay, because Hubert had telegraphed that if he
waited two hours he would give him a definite answer about Gabriel's
business. The answer came, and it was all that could be desired. Gabriel
could go at any time, or wait until the first of October to take his
place at the bank. Clarence was delighted to have this good news to
carry to Mercedes, with the addition that Fred said that the mines
developed richer ores every day. He had an offer of two million dollars
for his mines--but both Hubert and Fred advised him not to sell.
With these cheerful thoughts, he was getting into his phaeton, when the
notary, who had made the entry of Don Mariano's conveyance, came close
to him, and said in a low voice, and looking mysteriously around:
"Look here, it may be nothing, but those two fellows are so tricky and
slippery that I always imagine they are up to something, and both have
been twice to look in my books at the entry of the land conveyance which
Senor Alamar made to you. They might mean mischief, though I don't see
how."
"Of whom are you speaking?" Clarence asked.
"Of Roper and Gasbang. Why should they wish to know about that
conveyance?"
"I don't know; but I am sure it is for no good. When did they look at
the entry?"
"About two days ago, the last time. When they first looked at it I was
not at home. My wife was at my office when Roper came and asked
permission to see the date of a conveyance which he himself had made.
This was only a ruse. Two days after he came and told me that one of his
clients wanted to buy land from Darrell, and wished to see what sort of
a title he had. I, of course, let him see it. Gasbang came after, and
that made me suspicious."
Clarence thanked the notary, and drove home as fast as the uneven road
permitted. He felt that he must at last disclose to his father all about
that land transaction, and feared that he would be angry. His fears, he
saw, were only too well founded as soon as he arrived home.
The family were at supper when he drove up to the door. On hearing the
sound of wheels, Everett left the table and hastened to meet him. All
his brothers and sisters would gladly have done the same, but a look
from their mother kept them in their chairs.
In a few words Everett condensed the unfortunate occurrences of the
previous day and evening, ending his hurried statement by saying that
the entire family hoped that Clarence's influence might appease their
father's irritation when nothing else would.
"No; I am sure that if mother has failed, I shall have no effect at
all," Clarence said. "But are you sure that there is nothing else to
anger him? The fact alone of my having paid for the land, and at my
mother's request, would not so infuriate him while in his normal state
of mind. There must be some _other_ irritating circumstance."
"None that we know of."
"I am glad he did not strike the Don."
"So am I, though I have a big bump to testify that he struck _me_, and I
suppose Tano has another to speak for him."
Clarence told the servant who came to take the horses to the stable to
leave them where they were, only throwing a blanket on, as he had driven
them very fast. He and Everett then walked into the hall, carrying some
small parcels which he (as usual) had brought home--one of those parcels
being a beautiful pipe, for which he had paid forty dollars, and a lot
of fine tobacco, for his father.
Placing them on the hall table, he said to Everett: "I suppose father
would rather throw this tobacco into my eyes than put it in his pipe and
smoke it."
Everett laughed at this, thinking it rather a witticism under the
circumstances, and was still laughing when both went into the
dining-room.
Clarence said good evening to all, kissing his mother as he took his
seat beside her. Darrell never lifted his eyes, paying no attention to
his son.
"What made you laugh just now, Retty?" Willie asked.
"Something that Clary said," answered Everett.
"Was it anything funny?"
"It must have been; but you needn't hear it."
"But I want to hear it," he insisted.
"It must have been about your father, he is the funny man now--the
laughing stock," said Darrell to Willie; then to Clarence: "We have had
circus performances. Your father distinguished himself by performing
_in_ the tight rope, with Don Gabriel--a very tight rope," he said,
making a semi-circular sign around his body with both hands, and nodding
his head at Clarence by way of emphasis, or as if he challenged him to
contradict his statement.
"Oh, father! I am very sorry," was all that Clarence could answer.
The entire family were almost choking with suppressed laughter, but none
dare give vent to it.
"Why don't you laugh--all of you?" asked he, looking around fiercely.
"Because you frighten their laughter away," Mrs. Darrell replied. "They
fear to offend you."
"Offend me? _Me?_ And since when such consideration? Since when, I say?"
"Since they were old enough to know you as their father," calmly replied
Mrs. Darrell.
"Ah! I am glad to hear it. Well, sir," he said, addressing Clarence
again, to the terror of all the family, "I have at last learned that you
have been making clandestine bargains with your future father-in-law,
placing me in a most ridiculous position, for which I don't thank you."
"I am sorry, father. My intention was most kind," Clarence answered,
respectfully, but very calmly.
"You only thought that as I was a fool, you would be my sense-bearer,
and act for me--you, the man of brains."
"No, sir. All I thought was, that as you seem to love my mother, you
would prefer to give her the kind of home that she desires. I thought
that when you came to know all, you would approve of my having obeyed my
mother's wishes."
"If you were so sure of my approval, why didn't you tell me the whole
thing before?"
"Because I was pledged to my mother not to do so. I was bound to be
silent."
"By George!" said Darrell, striking the table with his fist, making all
the glasses and cups dance; "and for all that nonsense I have been made
a laughing stock, a ridiculous, trusting fool--an ass!"
"No one will think that but yourself," Mrs. Darrell said; "and you will
change your mind, I hope."
"And how do you know that?"
"I was supposing that people reason in the way that in all my life I
have believed to be correct."
"Yes, what _you_ believe to be correct no one else has any right to
think differently."
"Whether they have or not, I shall not interfere."
"No, you only wanted to interfere with me."
"Certainly. As my life is united to yours, I am obliged to try and
prevent such of your actions as will make me unhappy."
"An excellent doctrine for wives--for mothers to teach their
children--and we see the result now."
Mrs. Darrell was pleased that his attacks seemed directed to herself
instead of Clarence, but she felt prematurely relieved, for now he came
down upon Clarence. He said:
"Well, sir, since yourself and your mother have bought this land, and
since I am an unreclaimed _squatter_, I suppose I had better leave this
place, and go back to Alameda again. I suppose I can have that place
again?"
"You will not have to lease it, father; you can have it rent free, as
long as you live, if you prefer to reside there," Clarence replied.
"How is that?"
"I bought the place, and if you wish you can live in it."
"You? _You_ bought the place! Then, by George! _you_ have managed to
coop me up," said Mr. Darrell, drawing down the corners of his mouth and
elevating his shoulders deprecatingly, as if he thought Clarence was a
voracious land-grabber, who wanted to appropriate to himself all the
vacant land in the United States.
"Don't say that, please. The place was for sale, Hubert telegraphed me,
and I telegraphed back to buy it."
"I didn't know you were so rich," he answered, sneeringly.
Clarence made no reply.
"Well, I must admit you have cornered me completely; but as I don't want
to live on the bounty of my rich son, I must get out of this place."
"You can refund me the price of one hundred and sixty acres, father, if
you are too proud to accept that from me, which is little enough,
considering your generosity to me all my life. The other two claims, you
know, you said would be one for Retty and the other for myself. This
house and the orchards are all on your claim."
"I have taken a dislike to the whole thing," said he, waiving his hand,
as if to shift the position of the land in question. "You can have it
all, together with the Alameda farm. There are other lands in
California."
Mrs. Darrell and Clarence looked at each other. The case seemed
hopeless. All were silent.
Mr. Darrell continued: "All I want before I leave here is to give your
greaser father-in-law a sound thrashing and another to that puppy,
Gabriel, who is so airy and proud, and such an exquisite, that it will
be delightful to spoil his beauty."
"But why should you wish to do that? What has Don Mariano done to you?
and if Don Gabriel threw his _lazo_ on you, it was to protect his
father."
"What has the old greaser done? He inveigled you into that land
business, and you together have made me ridiculous. That is what the
matter is."
"Then you don't believe me?" Mrs. Darrell said.
"Don't you take so much credit to yourself, and throw yourself into the
breach like a heroine. If the Don hadn't had that pretty daughter,
Clarence would not have been so obedient to his mother, perhaps."
Clarence rose to his feet, very pale, but he sat down again, and
controlling himself, said as calmly as possible:
"I had never seen one, not one of Don Mariano's daughters when I went to
offer to pay for this land."
"Do you mean that you wouldn't have done so if your mother hadn't wished
it?"
"No sir, not that. I think I would, for I felt great sympathy with the
Don for the contemptible manner in which the squatters received the
propositions he made them. I was convinced then that the land belonged
to him, and nobody had a right to take it without paying for it."
"Aha! I knew we would come to that," said Darrell, sternly, glaring at
his son. "I was a thieving squatter, of course, and that is what you
said to your greaser father-in-law, who to reward your high sense of
honor, took you to the bosom of his family. The cowardly dog, who will
take insults and not resent them, but has puppies at his heels to throw
_lasooing_ at people."
"Pshaw! I never thought you capable of--"
"Of what? Insulting those greasers?"
"They are gentlemen, no matter how much you may wish to besmear them
with low epithets."
"Gentlemen that won't fight."
"They told you they would fight _like gentlemen_."
"Who told you that?"
"I did, father. I heard Don Mariano and Don Gabriel both tell you that,"
Everett said.
"If they are so ready to fight, why didn't they do it when I told the
old dog that the bait to catch you was his daughter?"
"What! Did you say that?" asked Clarence, reddening to the roots of his
hair, his face quickly blanching again.
"I did--in clear language."
"In dirty, low, nasty language, and it is you who are the coward, to
insult _me_ under the shelter of your paternal privileges," said
Clarence, rising. "You have been taunting me until I can bear it no
longer. I suppose you wish to drive me from your house. Be it so. I
leave now--never to enter it again."
"That suits me. You are too _greasy_ for both of us to live under the
same roof," said Darrell, contemptuously, with a gesture of disgust.
"Good-by, mother; good-by, my sisters; good-by, boys--take care of
mother and the girls. God bless you."
With a piercing cry, that rang through the house, Alice ran to Clarence,
and throwing her arms around his neck, said:
"Kiss me, my darling, for if you leave us I shall be wretched until you
return. Oh! I can't let you go."
Tenderly Clarence pressed his sister to his heart. He felt her arms
relaxing, her head fell back, and she closed her eyes. Lovingly he then
lifted her, and placing her upon a lounge, said:
"Alice has fainted, mother. My sweet sister, how dearly I love her, God
only knows."
He covered her face with kisses, while his own was bathed in tears.
Without lifting his eyes or saying another word, he walked out into the
darkness.
The delicious, fragrant air, loaded with the perfume of roses and
honeysuckle and heliotrope, seemed to breathe a farewell caress over his
heated brow, and the recollection of the loving care he had bestowed
upon these flowers when he planted them to welcome his mother, flashed
through his memory with a pang. He sighed and passed into the gloom,
overpowered with a dread that made him feel chilled to the heart. It
seemed to him as if an unseen voice was warning him of a dire misfortune
he could not perceive nor avert. What could it be? Was Mercedes to be
taken from him? Would her family object to him on account of his
father's ruffianly behavior? Could he claim to be a gentleman, being the
son of that rough? These thoughts flashed through his mind, filling him
with sickening dismay and inexpressible disgust. Would he dare stand in
the presence of Mercedes now? Or, would he return to town at this late
hour? Where could he go for a shelter that night?
Mechanically he walked to the phaeton, got into it and took the reins to
drive off.