Don Roberto was to bring his guest with him on the train which arrived a
few minutes after five. Magdaléna was told to dress early and be in the
parlour when Mr. Trennahan came downstairs. She was cold at the thought
of talking alone with a man and a stranger; but Mrs. Yorba had
neuralgia, and announced her intention to lie down until the last
minute.
Magdaléna had received a number of pretty presents from her aunt and
friends, a cablegram from Colonel Belmont and Helena, and from her
father a small gold watch and fob. Her father's gift was very
magnificent to her, and her pleasure was as great in the thought of his
generosity as in the beauty of the gift itself. His usual gift was ten
dollars; and as it had been decided that she was not to be a young lady
until she was nineteen, her eighteenth birthday had been passed over.
Her mother's present was the dress she was to wear to-night, a white
organdie of the pearly tint high in favour with blondes of matchless
complexion, a white sash, and a white ribbon to be knotted about the
throat. The neck of the gown was cut in a small V.
Magdaléna had no natural taste in dress, nor did she know the first
principle of the law of colour; but when she had finished her toilette
she stood for many moments before the mirror, regarding herself with
disapproval. The radiant whiteness of the frock and of the ribbon about
her neck made her look as dark as an Indian. She saw no beauty in the
noble head with its parted, closely banded hair, in the fine dark eyes.
She saw only the wide mouth and indefinite nose, the complexionless
skin, the long thin figure and ugly neck. The only thing about her that
possessed any claim to beauty, according to her own standards, was her
foot. She thrust it out and strove to find encouragement in its
pulchritude. It was thin and small and arched, and altogether perfect.
She wore her first pair of slippers and silk stockings,--a present from
her aunt. Her mother thought silk stockings a sinful waste of money.
Magdaléna sighed and turned to the door. "Feet don't talk," she thought.
"What am I to say to Mr. Trennahan?"
She walked slowly down the stair. He was before her, standing on the
verandah directly in front of the doors. His back was to her. She saw
that he was very tall and thin, not unlike her uncle in build, but with
a distinction that gentleman did not possess. Her father was strutting
up and down the drive, taking his ante-dinner constitutional.
She went along the hall as slowly as she could, her hands clenched, her
mind in travail for a few words of appropriate greeting. When she had
nearly reached the door, Trennahan turned suddenly and saw her. He came
forward at once, his hand extended.
"This is Miss Yorba, of course," he said. "How good of you to come down
so soon!"
He had a large warm hand. It closed firmly over Magdaléna's, and gave
her confidence. She could hardly see his face in the gloom of the hall,
but she felt his cordial grace, his magnetism.
"I am glad you have come down to my birthday dinner," she said, thankful
to be able to say anything.
"I am highly honoured, I am sure. Shall we go outside? I hope you prefer
it out there. I never stay in the house if I can help it."
"Oh, I much prefer to be out."
They sat facing each other in two of the wicker chairs. He was a man
skilled in woman, and he divined her shyness and apprehension. He talked
lightly for some time, making her feel that politeness compelled her to
be silent and listen. She raised her eyes after a time and looked at
him. He was, perhaps, thirty-five, possibly more. He looked older and at
the same time younger. His shaven chin and lips were sternly cut. His
face was thin, his nose arched and fine, his skin and hair neutral in
tint. The only colouring about him was in his eyes. They were very blue
and deeply set under rather scraggy brows. Magdaléna noted that they had
a peculiarly penetrating regard, and that they did not smile with the
lips. The latter, when not smiling, looked grim and forbidding, and
there was a deep line on either side of the mouth. Her memory turned to
Colonel Belmont, and the night she had studied his profile. There was an
indefinable resemblance between the two men. Then she realised how
old-fashioned and worn Belmont was beside this trim elegant man, who,
with no exaggeration of manner, treated her with a deference and
attention which had no doubt been his habitual manner with the greatest
ladies in Europe.
"Shall you be in California long?" she asked suddenly.
"That is what I am trying to decide. I had heard so much of your
California that I came out with a half-formed idea of buying a little
place and settling down for the rest of my days."
"The Mark Smith place is for sale," she answered quickly. "It has only
two acres, but they are cultivated, and the house is very pretty."
"Your father told me about it; but although Menlo is very beautiful, it
seems to have one drawback. I am very fond of rowing, sailing, and
fishing, and there is no water."
"There is if you go far enough. The bay is not so very far away, and I
have heard that there is salmon-fishing back in the mountains. And Mr.
Washington and Uncle Jack Belmont often go duck and snipe shooting down
on the marsh." She stopped with a shortening of the breath. She had not
made such a long speech since Helena left.
He sat forward eagerly. "You interest me deeply," he said. "I am very
much inclined to buy the place. I shall certainly think of it."
"But you--surely--you would rather be--live--in Europe. We are very
old-fashioned out here."
The expression about his mouth deepened. "I should like to think that I
might spend the rest of my days with a fishing-rod or a gun."
"But you have been at courts!"