IN THE SUNSHINE OF YOUTH
There was a great talk about hard times. Some discouraged people
returned east, convinced there was just as good a chance for
prosperity there. But the city went on laying out streets, paving
some, erecting large business buildings, discarding old oil lamps, for
now gas was introduced. And in April, a branch Mint was opened by the
Government on Commercial Street, which had been a great necessity,
though there had been allowed a private coining establishment. The
payment of many transactions had been in gold dust or nuggets. There
was also an earnest endeavor to awake interest in a through railroad
service. The overland route was hazardous, painful, and expensive,
that round the Horn tedious, and across the isthmus difficult.
There were also several filibustering expeditions that came to grief,
and some quite noted citizens were tried and punished. Riots, too,
were of frequent occurrence, but, on the whole, a spirit of
improvement was visible everywhere. The long-neglected Plaza was
regraded, a fence placed around it, a flagstaff raised, and it became
quite a favorite resort, the drive around it being thronged by
carriages on pleasant afternoons.
The Vigilance Committee had done good work and rendered the city much
safer. Manufactures were started. True, coal had to be brought from
some distance, and there was a great need of really skilled labor.
The little party that had taken the "Hazard of new fortunes" were
prospering. Now and then Dick Folsom had been seized with a mining
fever that had required all the ingenious arguments of his mother to
combat. Then, seeing an opportunity, and having good backers in the
Dawsons, she had opened a sort of Home Hotel that at once became a
great favorite on account of its excellent bread and rolls, and now
Dick had business enough on his hands, though it did not quench his
longing for a more adventurous life.
Miss Gaines, too, had extended her borders. She had taken a place on
an attractive street and opened a real business of dressmaking and
millinery, and was largely patronized, Boston being considered really
higher style than New York. Jacintha Vanegas had married, and Miss
Gaines had persuaded the mother to sell her old house as the lot was
needed for an important improvement. So Señora Vanegas came to keep
house for her, and Felicia to be her right-hand woman.
"It's worlds better than teaching school," she explained to Miss
Holmes. "When you once rise to a positive dictum in style, people give
in to you and pay you any price. I'm not going to spend all my time on
furbelows. After a few years I shall retire and take some journeys
about the world. One of my cousins is anxious to come out and I shall
send for her. As for marrying--I certainly shall not take a man to
hang on to me, as one might easily every month in the year."
The hard times had touched Jason Chadsey rather severely, but he held
up his head bravely. For he saw that San Francisco must be the brain
of the outlying country. The treaty with Japan would open up new
ventures. There was to be a line of mail steamers from San Francisco
to Shanghai. And all up and down the coast from Puget Sound to the
Isthmus vessels were plying, bringing the treasures of other lands.
The visit to Oaklands had been beautifully arranged. Mrs. Savedra had
sent a written invitation to her sister-in-law, enclosing a note to
Miss Holmes. They were to come early in the morning, at least the big
carriage would meet the boat at ten. It was across the bay, to be
sure, but only like a ferry.
Olive took upon herself the real significance of the visit. They were
_her_ relatives, not even her stepmother's. Her aunt was quite French
still and talked with a pretty accent, and was really very charming,
though she did not go much into society.
"Of course, you've seen Victor--you can't help liking him, you know.
Isola is only a year younger, but she's a queer, fretful sort of girl,
who always has a headache if she doesn't want to do the things you
choose. Elena is a little witch, good and bad, sweet and sour all in a
minute. Then some children died, and Andrea is a sweet, big, spoiled
baby."
Laverne laughed.
"If Isola was like most girls we could have lots of fun. I hate
half-sick people, don't you? I want them to be ill enough to stay in
bed, or else able to have some fun. She plays beautifully on the
organ, though, and the piano."
"Oh, I do love music," declared Laverne. "I could listen forever."
"Then you and she will get along. Victor will entertain Isabel, of
course. You can't have him all the time," with a touch of malice.
Laverne turned scarlet.
Up and down the bay seemed alive with vessels of every kind and
degree, and some sailboats keeping out of the way of the larger craft.
Victor had the big family carriage with its three seats.
"I'm going to sit with the driver," announced Olive.
Victor assisted the ladies in, expressing his pleasure that it was a
fine day and that they could all come. The two handsome horses flung
up their heads and pawed the ground a little. They went somewhat
south-easterly, passed the streets that already had quite a city
aspect, and then turned into a road bordered with magnificent trees
and almost paved with great violets of all colors, and farther back a
wild profusion of bloom. Geraniums like small trees, brilliant in
scarlet, rose, and pink. Magnificent palms, shining olive trees, and
oranges that had been cultivated to perfection. Laverne drew long
breaths of the perfumed air.
All at the southern side was an immense garden. At the north it was
protected by a great belt of woods. How different from their rocky
mound, but she recalled the fact that Victor had found some points to
admire.
The mansion was broad and low, the centre reaching up two stories with
a sharp peak, the wings but one story. A porch ran the whole length of
it, shaded by heliotrope trained as a vine and full of purple bloom,
and passion flowers in lavender, purplish red and white, with touches
of grayish purple. These climbed over lattices, leaving spaces between
that looked like French windows reaching to the ground. It was really
a succession of rooms. Easy chairs, lounging chairs (one on wheels for
Isola when she felt indisposed for walking), small tables with books
and papers, or a work-basket, and down one end a large one with
various dishes of fruit.
Mrs. Savedra welcomed them in a most cordial manner. She was hardly
medium height; indeed, she looked short beside these taller women. Her
black hair was a bed of ripples with curling ends, her eyes a soft
dusky black, and her complexion a rather pale sort of olive with a
dash of color in the cheeks.
Victor could hardly be said to resemble her, and yet he had taken some
of her best points.
Isola stood beside her mother, almost as tall, but slim as a willow
wand, and sallow as to complexion, with a deep shade under the eyes.
Her hair was a duller tint, and her eyes a gleam that in some lights
would have a suggestion of yellow.
There were also two young gentlemen--one a visitor who had come with
his father on some business, the other a schoolmate of Victor's that
the Personette girls had met before, Vance Lensam. Louis Alvarado was
older than either of them, a handsome young fellow, with blue black
hair and eyes that seemed to look through one.
Victor had asked his friend Vance, so that, he said laughingly, his
cousins would not pull him to pieces.
"And this is the little girl we have heard about, who took the long,
long journey around Cape Horn," Mrs. Savedra said, holding her small
fair hand and glancing smilingly into the deep blue eyes. "I took one
journey from New Orleans with my husband, and it seemed endless,
though we had many pleasures by the way and some dangers. Once we lost
our way and had to sleep in the woods, and we heard the wolves howl."
"There were no wolves on shipboard and we couldn't get lost," returned
the child, in a soft tone.
"Oh, you might have been blown out of your course by a storm,"
commented Victor.
"I think we were once or twice. But they all said it was an
exceptional passage," returned his aunt.
Then they were seated on the porch while the maids took their hats and
mantles, for one never quite knew when a strong west wind would come
up. And for a few moments there was a confusion of pleasant voices.
The servant brought a great stone pitcher of delightful fruit beverage
and filled the glasses. It was ice-cold and most grateful. There were
some queer crispy cakes with scalloped edges that were very nice,
Laverne thought.
The elders began to talk on the subjects of the day. There was never
any lack of news in the various papers, though there were few
telegraph connections and no cables to flash around the world. Vance
Lensam came round to Isabel's side. He had been to the theatre a few
nights before and seen a remarkable young actress, Miss Heron, in the
play of "Fazio," and it was superb.
"I want so to go to the theatre," declared Isabel. "Father will not
allow us, he declares it is no place for young people."
"Anybody might see this play, I think. And the audiences have grown
more respectful and respectable. We are getting to be quite a staid
and orderly city," and he laughed with a little irony.
"And just as soon as a girl is married she can go anywhere," Isabel
declared.
"With her husband--yes."
"And I want to go to a real ball. I have outgrown children's parties.
Oh, there are to be some splendid picnics when school closes. I hope
we can go. Mother has so many engagements all the time. We ought to
have a summer governess."
"That would be a good idea. One as manageable as the Señorita's," and
he half nodded in Isola's direction.
"But she never wants to do anything worth while. Oh, dear, it isn't a
nice thing never to be real well."
"No, I wouldn't like it."
"Do you know that Mr. Alvarado?"
"I only met him yesterday. They are Spanish Cubans, I believe."
"Come down and talk to him. Oh, I do get on so slowly with French and
Spanish. Mother wishes she could send me to a good Eastern school,
where they make girls study."
"You wouldn't like it?" enquiringly.
"Do they lock them up and keep them on bread and water, or beat them?
I'd like to see the teacher who could make me study."
"Are you so very obstreperous?" he laughed.
"I don't see the use of so much of it. You marry, and that's the end
of learning. But I wish I was a good French scholar. I was quite
ashamed the other night. Father had a French visitor come in about
something, and he didn't understand English very well, so he asked me
to translate, and I couldn't."
"Moral!" Vance said sententiously.
They had been moving slowly down to the young man, who now gave them a
nod of welcome, and began to air his rather lame English.
The nurse brought out the baby, a charming child of four, and
Laverne's face lighted up with joy.
"You are fond of babies," said the mother, in a glad tone.
"Oh, yes, and there are so few of them, except the dirty street
children."
"Where is Lena?" asked Olive.
"One can never tell for five minutes where she is," said the mother.
"I'm going to hunt her up; she's such fun."
But Olive went no further than the group shaded by the passion vine,
and the four were in the midst of something amusing, to judge by their
merry laughs.
"Why, I didn't know Alvarado could be so gay," declared Victor. "He
doesn't talk very well, and last night I hardly knew how to entertain
him. His father is to send him North to one of the cities in the
autumn. We need some of this work here, high schools and colleges."
"That will come. Think how young you are. I am amazed at the
progress," declared Mrs. Personette.
"I suppose San Francisco is an old, young city. The Americanos have
really overpowered us. But, Aunt Grace, did you ever stand in the
street a few moments and listen to the jargon? You can imagine what
the Tower of Babel must have been. I think we have gathered all the
nations of the earth within our borders. And the Chinese are the
oddest. Oh, mother, I am glad you were not a Chinese woman."
"I think your father would not have been allowed to marry me," she
said smilingly. "And I did not know a word of English then. I had been
in a convent. We thought it a barbarous tongue."
"It's going to conquer the world some day."
"Will everybody speak English, do you think?" and Laverne glanced up.
The baby's arms were tight about her neck.
"Oh, baby!" cried the mother. "Nurse, you had better take him."
It was funny to hear the baby scold in French.
"Victor, you might take the little girl--Laverne, is it not? and show
her the garden. I heard about your pets. You must have a charm."
Laverne smiled. They walked down the porch and Victor paused a moment
to invite his friends to join them. They did not at once, but the two
kept on. They turned down a wide alley, under some orange trees. The
late blossoms had fruited, the early ones been killed by the unusual
frost of the winter.
"Oh, it is so beautiful, so very beautiful!" she exclaimed, with
almost the poignancy of joy. "I never supposed there was all this
beauty such a little distance from us. Why didn't they come over here
and build the city?"
"You will not ask that twenty years from this time. San Francisco
will be one of the great cities of the world, the gateway of the
Western coast, the link of everything splendid! Think of the Golden
Gate, of the magnificent bay, where no enemy could touch a ship. And
that rocky coast, a defence in itself."
"Twenty years," she repeated musingly. "Why, I shall be quite an old
woman," and a look almost of terror flashed up in her face.
He laughed at her dismay. "I am not quite seventeen. Then I shall be
thirty-seven, and I hope to have a home and be just as happy as my
father is, and shall endeavor to be just as prosperous. But I wouldn't
want you to call me an old man."
She flushed under his eager eyes.
"Everything grows finer here than in San Francisco. Even at the
Estenegas it was not luxuriant like this."
"For fifteen years father has had it cultivated. There are two
gardeners working all the time. He is so fond of beautiful
things--trees, and flowers, and birds. No one is allowed to molest
them. Oh, listen!"
They both stood still. She clasped her hands, and her eyes were lucent
with mistiness.
"Oh," she cried, "it is like this:
"'How they seemed to fill the sea and air,
With their sweet jargoning.'"
Certainly they were a gay and happy lot, singing for the very love of
melody, it seemed. Then they passed masses of flowers, beautiful
groups of trees again, wound around unexpected corners.
"I wonder you found anything to praise up there on the hill," she said
in a low, rather disheartened tone.
"Oh, I came to see you, and the gull, and Snippy, and to have the nice
ride. And I did have a fine day. Now, you are not going to envy your
neighbor's garden!"
"Why, no; I wouldn't want to take it away if I could, for there are so
many of you to enjoy it, you see, and only so few of us."
"And your uncle will be rich enough to give you everything you want
some day."
She had never thought about his being that.
A sudden shower of olives dropped down upon them like a great pelting
rain.
"Oh, Elena, where are you, you little witch! Ah, I see you. Shall I
shake you down out of the tree?"
A gay, rippling laugh mocked him.
"Lena, come down. The little girl is here who has the squirrel named
Snippy, and the gull."
"I thought it was Olive. I was going to crown her with her namesakes.
Why did they give her that name, like hard, bitter fruit?"
"Why are girls named Rose and Lily?"
"Oh, they are pretty names, and sweet."
"Well, you see, no one consulted me about it. Please, come down."
She laughed again, like the shivering of glass that made a hundred
echoes. Then there was a rustling among the branches, and a lithe
figure stood before them, looking as if she might fly the next moment.
"Lena! Lena!" and Victor caught her by the shoulder. "What did you
promise this very morning--that you wouldn't torment Olive, but
behave discreetly."
"This isn't Olive," and she gave her elfin laugh.
"But you meant it for Olive. This is the little girl who lives over on
the rock, where we go to see the seals and the great flocks of birds.
You know I told you of her."
Elena stared at the visitor. She had a curious, gypsy-like brilliance,
with her shining, laughing mischievous eyes and the glow in her
cheeks. She was very dark, a good deal from living in the sun, and not
a bad-looking child either. And now an odd, coquettish smile flashed
over the eyes, mouth, and chin, and was fascinating in its softness.
She held out her hand.
"Victor likes you so much," she said, and Victor flushed at the
betrayal of confidence he had used to persuade her into cordiality. "I
think I shall like you, too. Let us run a race. If I beat you, you
must like me the most and do just as I say, and if you beat I will be
just like your slave all day long."
"No, Lena. You must not do any such thing."
"She is like a little snail then! She is afraid!" and the black eyes
flashed mirth as well as insolence.
"I am not afraid." Laverne stood up very straight, a bright red rose
blooming on each cheek. "Where to?" she asked briefly.
"Down to the fig trees."
"Will you count three?" Laverne asked of Victor.
He smiled and frowned.
"Count!" she insisted authoritatively.
They started like a flash, the shadows dancing on the path. Elena
gained. Victor grew angry, and came after them; then Laverne gave a
sudden swift swirl and turned on her antagonist.
Lena stopped with a laugh. She was not angry.
"How you can run!" she exclaimed. "I wish you lived here. We would
have races twenty times a day. And--can you climb trees?"
"Oh, yes."
"And swim?"
"No," admitted Laverne frankly.
"Then you can't do everything that I can."
"And she can do something you cannot. She can read French and Spanish,
while you really can't read English; she can do sums and write
letters, and--and sew," he was guessing at accomplishments now.
"There are the women to sew."
"But you might be wrecked on an island where there were no women, and
tear your frocks, as you generally do."
Laverne smiled. How find a needle and thread on a desolate island?
Lena did not see the point, and looked rather nonplussed.
"Oh, well, I shouldn't care then," she retorted.
"Come, let us go to the aviary. Miss Laverne will like to see the
birds."
There was a large space netted in from tree to tree in which there
were many rare birds of most exquisite plumage, and quantities of tiny
South American love birds, gossiping with each other in low, melodious
tones.
"Oh, how wonderful!" Laverne exclaimed.
"It's a great fancy of father's. Sea captains bring him birds from all
countries. After a while, when they get really acclimated and can
protect themselves, he lets them out to settle in the woods about. Do
you see those two with the beautiful long tails? They came from the
island of Java. Do you know where that is?"
"Oh, it is one of the Sunda Islands down by the Indian Ocean. Uncle
Jason has been to Borneo and Sumatra. And coffee comes from Java."
"How do you know? Have you been there?" questioned Elena.
"Father knows, and he has not been there," returned Victor. "He could
tell you a good many things if you did not like to learn them out of
books."
Laverne walked round the inclosure in a trance of delight. And though
the voices now and then made discord, on the whole it was a
fascinating orchestra.
"Couldn't you tame some of them?"
"It would take a long time, I think. Those bright Brazilian birds are
very wild. Every one cannot charm birds, and father is a pretty busy
man."
Elena soon tired of the birds, and inquired if Laverne had a pony.
Then they might ride after luncheon.
"And it must be nearly that now. Come, let us go up to the house."
Elena chattered like a magpie, and danced about, now and then hopping
on one foot, and running to and fro.
"You will think we are a rather queer lot," Victor said, half in
apology.
"Oh, _you_ are not queer. I like you very much." She raised her clear,
innocent eyes, and it seemed a very sweet compliment to him.
"There isn't much training. Mamacita could not govern a cat, though,
for that matter, I don't believe cats are easily governed. Cats are
queer things. But school straightens up one, I suppose. Elena will go
to a convent to be trained presently. Isola cannot, so she has a
governess to teach her music and a few things. You must hear her play
on the organ. All she cares about is music."
"Is she very ill?"
"Oh, not very, I think. But she won't ride, which the doctor thinks
would be good for her, and she goes about in that wheeling chair when
she ought to walk, and lies in the hammock. Mamacita would like her to
be gay and bright and entertaining to the young men, as Isabel is,
because all girls are expected to marry. Mamacita was only fifteen
when papa met her at a ball at New Orleans. That must be a very gay
place, without the crime and rough life that San Francisco has. I do
hope sometime we will be civilized, and not have to take in the
off-scourings of all lands. I want it to be a splendid city, like Rome
on its seven hills. And there is the grand sea outlook that Rome did
not have, though she made herself mistress of the seas."
The little girl watched him with such intelligent eyes that it was a
great satisfaction to talk to her. She was different from any one he
had known. For those of the Southern blood were coquettes from their
very cradle, and wanted to talk of pleasure only. Of course, she was
being brought up by a great traveller, even if he had never risen
higher than mate of a trading vessel. And then the eastern women were
somehow different.
Elena ran on, and announced with a shout "that they were coming." The
porch was set out with little tables. Mrs. Personette was the matron
of the one that had her daughters and the two young men. Mrs. Savedra
took charge of Elena and Isola, and left Miss Holmes to Laverne and
Victor.
There were flowers and fruits, dainty summer viands, and much gay
chatting, since they were near enough to interchange with each other.
Laverne was very enthusiastic about the aviary.
"Oh, you must go out and see it," she said eagerly.
Victor was thinking of the great difference between Miss Holmes and
Mam'selle Claire. Of course, she could talk about musicians, she
seemed to have them at her tongue's end, and some French writers. He
was not of an age to appreciate them; young, energetic souls were
quoting Carlyle, even Emerson had crept out here on the Western coast.
In a way there was a good deal of politics talked, and a rather bitter
feeling against the East for turning so much of the cold shoulder to
them. Even the suggestion of war with England over the northern
boundary did not seem very stirring to these people. It was their own
advancement, the appreciation of all they held in their hands, the
wonderful possibilities of the Oriental trade. And though it seemed
quite necessary to study French, when there were so many French
citizens, the young fellow considered the literature rather
effeminate. But Miss Holmes was conversant with the march of the
Carthaginian general over the Alps, and later, that of Napoleon, and
the newer scheme that had set their wisdom at naught, and that the
railroad was a necessity if the Union was not to part in the middle.
He liked Miss Holmes' admiration of California. Mam'selle Claire
thought it rude and rough.
There was lounging in the hammocks afterward, the sun was too hot to
drive about. Isola went in the room presently, and played some soft,
low chords on the organ. Laverne crept in, enchanted. She liked the
voluntaries in church when they had no grand crushes in them. Victor
was talking with Miss Holmes, so she slipped away, for Elena had found
the quiet irksome, and there were always dogs to play with. The dogs
she thought better company than most people.
Laverne had never been near an organ. This was not a very large one,
but sweet-toned for parlor use. She crept nearer and nearer, and
almost held her breath, while the tears came to her eyes. It seemed
the sad story of some one, the story the ocean waves told at times, or
the wind in the trees, when twilight was falling, and now it was
darkness, and you could almost hear the stars pricking through the
blue. Then one faint call of a bird, and a far-off answer, and lower,
lower, until the sound wandered away and was lost.
"Oh," she breathed, "oh!"
"You like it?"
Laverne drew a long breath. "Oh, that isn't the word," she said. "We
may like a good many things, but they do not all go to your heart."
Isola took the fair face in both hands, which were cold, but the child
did not shrink, she was still so impressed with the melody.
"Let me look at you. Oh, what beautiful eyes you have--sometimes you
find that color in the sky. But music goes to the soul, the brain,
and I wish I could see yours. Did you feel as if you could swoon
away?"
"I wanted to cry," Laverne said, in a tremulous tone. "But it was not
from sorrow nor joy; you sometimes do cry when you are full of
delight, but--at times when I hear the right music in church, I think
that is what heaven will be like."
"What was that like--not heaven?"
"It was night when I am sitting out on the step, and not thinking, but
just watching the stars come out."
"Oh, you little darling. I wish you could stay here always. I wish
they, your people, would fancy Elena, and we could change. She laughs,
and it goes through me like a bolt of lightning, and leaves me numb.
I'd like to have some one who listens that way. Mam'selle declares the
playing is wrong because I do not follow the notes, and one day when
she insisted, I flung myself down on the floor and cried until I was
sick. And now I am let to play what I like most of the time. I hate
books--do you like to study dry, prosy things? What does it matter
whether the world is round or square?"
"Why, it might not revolve in quite the right way, and I guess the
ships couldn't sail as well." She smiled at the thought of the
corners.
"Now, we will have morning."
First it was a wind rustling among the trees. The sort of metallic
swish of the evergreens, the whisper of the pines, the patter of the
oaks; then a bird singing somewhere, another answering, hardly awake;
young ones peeping a hungry cry, then a gay, swinging, dashing chorus,
with a merry lark going higher and higher, until he was out of
hearing. Sounds growing discordant, impatient, harsh.
"That's the world," she explained; "morning down on the bay; the
people working, scolding, swearing; don't you hate all that?"
"We are not near enough to hear it."
"But if you have heard it once you can imagine it. And some music
isn't much better. Mam'selle plays things that set my teeth on edge.
Do you know what your soul is?"
Laverne was startled. "Why," hesitatingly, "it is the part that goes
to heaven."
"Well--heaven must be sweet and soft and fair, if it is full of
angels. And why don't we keep to the soft and lovely sides of
everything if we are to go there. Is kneeling on a hard stone floor in
a convent at all like heaven?"
"I should think not."
"Mam'selle considers it useful discipline. Why, it is being dead to be
shut up in a cold, dark cell. And I think you are taken up in strong,
tender arms, and wafted above the clouds, like this----"
Then she began to play again. The sound stole along softly, halting a
little, murmuring, comforting, entreating, floating on and on to
sounds so sweet that the tears did overflow Laverne's eyes, and yet
she was not crying.
Victor glanced through the wide doorway.
"Why, that child has even found a way to Isola's heart," he said.
"I have been listening. Your sister is really a musical genius," Miss
Holmes replied.