AN ENCHANTED JOURNEY
Was it a happy dream Laverne Savedra kept asking herself, out on the
broad ocean with no land in sight and the great vault overhead, that
by night filled up with myriads of stars, that by day was a great
unknown country over which other ships went drifting to ports beyond
mortal ken. It was a much longer journey then, but going round the
world would not have been too long for all the confidences she and her
husband never wearied of exchanging.
She felt a little confused that he should have appeared so suddenly,
with such a brave air, and in the long talk told all his doubts and
fears, the whisper he had heard that she was likely to marry Lord
Wrexford, and that he found he had loved her since that first evening
they had danced together. And when he heard that, he felt he had no
right to keep a tryst with her in the twilight, but still he could not
put her out of his thoughts. And to him Lord Wrexford seemed quite a
middle-aged man, and he wondered if the Grange, said to be one of the
fine old estates in that shire, had won her with perhaps the
persuasion of her parents. Then her father's sudden and terrible death
had deterred him from a wild dream of coming to press his claim, for
he was not sure her regard was more than a childish preference. And
he, too, had been brought up to respect parental authority. Then,
there were so many regulations in English society that he feared to
transgress, and he was desperately busy with examination papers, and
now all that trouble was ended, and he should rejoice his father's
heart by his degrees. But there never would be any place to him like
his beloved California, so rich in treasures of the God-sent kind, if
she could not boast great universities and picture galleries and
libraries. They would all come in time.
Mrs. Westbury had insisted upon one condition. He was to destroy her
letter and never make any mention of it. For Laverne, with her ultra
delicate notions, might resent being offered to another lover. He was
to come as any friend might and learn for himself.
She had thought of the difficulty of sending the child on such a long
journey with only a maid. It was not merely crossing the ocean--for
then there was no cable and even telegraph communications were apt to
be interrupted. But if she could be really married and in a husband's
care, the way would be clear.
Victor Savedra had hesitated a little. They would hardly fail to
accord Laverne a warm welcome; but when his father had been so
indulgent to him, to take such an important step without his
knowledge! But there was no other course.
"I'll give you a generous trousseau, Laverne," she said, "but your
father's property is so tied up in stocks and various things that I
hardly know where to turn for money for myself."
"Oh, please do not think about the money. I am glad you are not
displeased about--about----" and she colored deeply. "Indeed, I never
thought of Mr. Savedra as a lover. We had been such friends----"
"To have you Lady Wrexford would have been very flattering to me,
seeing that you were hardly in society. But your refusal was so
decided, and I must say, he took it in a very gentlemanly manner. It
might have cost me my friend, even, and I should hardly have known
what to do. He has been most kind and useful."
"I do not think he really loved me," Laverne answered, with some
spirit.
"The acquaintance had hardly been long enough for that. And a man at
his time of life has lost the impetuosity of youth," the elder
returned rather dryly.
Laverne had made one protest about the marriage. She wanted to see
Uncle Jason first. In a way she belonged to him. If he were poor and
unfortunate he would need her so much the more.
"But you see you could not search for him alone. We will both try to
find him. And I think he is dearer than your father was. I always
liked him so much. And his home shall be with us always."
"How good you are," Laverne murmured with deep feeling.
It was not merely crossing the ocean, that was done by even an
unattended woman, it would be the remainder of the journey, and that
would prove simply impossible. But Mrs. Westbury was determined to
have some reflected distinction in her stepdaughter. This marriage had
an aureole of romance about it. She could wash her hands of Laverne
in a very satisfactory manner.
So it was a very pretty wedding in church, with the Doncaster girls
for bridesmaids and a quiet reception to say farewell to friends as
they were to sail on the morrow. Mrs. Westbury was modest in her white
crêpe dress with the plainest of adornment. The bride was charming,
the groom a proud and handsome young fellow. Lord Wrexford bestowed
upon her a handsome necklace of pearls and gave her the best of
wishes. Mrs. Westbury parted with some jewels she cared little about,
but to enhance their value she said with well-assumed emotion:
"They may be dear to you, Laverne, as mementoes of your father. He was
a good judge of such articles, and would have the best or none. And in
times of prosperity he was most generous. Of course, he had not always
been as successful as during these last few years."
The parting was very amicable, tender, indeed, with the hope that
Laverne and her husband would find their way abroad again. It was
hardly likely _she_ would ever visit America.
They began their new life as lovers indeed, but the hopes of both were
centred in the old place where they had first met. Dozens of fresh
recollections came to light every day. His memory went back farther
than hers, and now they said "Old San Francisco." He wondered how much
it had changed in the four years, and she supposed Telegraph Hill had
been cut down still more. Probably the old house was no more. Pelajo
had been sent over to Oaklands--would he be alive? And had the
squirrels all been driven to other wilds by the march of improvement?
A long, long journey it proved. All her life she was to be a great
traveller, but she thought then these two journeys were enough to
satisfy any one.
And at last the Golden Gate came in view. Oh, had it ever been so
grand and imposing before! Here was the rocky frowning coast line with
its few breaks. The sun was not shining, but the soft, low clouds
floating in silvery gray, turning to mauve with here and there a high
light just edging them, gave the gray brown rocks all manner of
indescribable tints that blended with the gray green lapping waves.
There was no stormy aspect about it, but a splendid, serene peace.
Even the gulls seemed to float in the mysterious ether, the under side
of their wings matching the prevailing tint. And nothing screamed, or
cried, or disputed. Clusters were settled sleepily in the recesses of
the rocks. And way up above they could see Mount Tamalpais with vales
and woods and great sandheaps between, and here was Sausalito, Point
Bonito, Point Lobos, as they entered in. They had reached the Promised
Land. Laverne glanced up with eyes full of tears. The joy was too deep
for words.
Here were streets running out to the newly begun sea wall. Here were
new piers, the Old Fisherman's Pier made over. Why, Telegraph Hill had
stepped from its lofty estate, though there were still some terraces
left, some houses perched up high with winding paths. Streets
straightened down to Market Street, which seemed to cut the city
diagonally in two. The old islands, the opposite shores, the towns
that had sprung up. How strange and yet how familiar. But now going
and returning was such an ordinary occurrence that there were no great
crowds to welcome travellers. And every one seemed so intent upon
business that it almost confused Laverne.
There were three who came to greet them. Mr. Savedra, Miss Holmes, and
Elena, a tall girl now, with flashing black eyes, a saucy scarlet
mouth, and brilliant complexion. And Miss Holmes was no longer young,
to Laverne's surprise, who had always held her in mind as she had
appeared on that first voyage, and who had never noted any change in
her when she saw her day by day.
Victor had apprised his father of his marriage and Laverne found
herself tenderly welcomed, as a foretaste of what was awaiting her on
the opposite side of the bay. So a little of the luggage was
collected, to follow them the next day, and they left the fine, new
mail ship for the ferry boat. The same old diversity of people that
looked strange now to the young girl. And the whirl, the bustle, the
confusion of tongues, the jostling of rough and refined, how queer it
seemed.
"You have hardly changed," Miss Holmes said when she had studied her
for some time.
"Haven't I?" with the old girlish smile. "Sometimes I feel as if I had
lived a hundred years in these two. Oh, I shall have so much to tell
you."
And yet she had an oddly pretty air and self-possession of wifehood
gained in these months when the world of travel had held only each
other, when every day had brought new revelations.
The remainder of the family were out on the porch with open arms and
kisses that it was worth crossing the ocean to win. For it was early
spring again, with everything a vision of beauty, though they had left
midwinter behind somewhere. Oh, the fragrance in the air, had she ever
breathed anything so delicious since she said good-by to the old
place!
They were very glad to have her, if the marriage had been out of the
usual order. Isola had a mind to be quite jealous of Victor, and that
amused him greatly. She had improved a great deal under Miss Holmes'
sensible care and training, and had an exalted, spiritual kind of
grace and expression. Laverne felt as if she had gone into a new
world, and the atmosphere was enchanting.
There was so much to say that midnight came before they had half said
it. And it was not until the next day she had the courage to inquire
if anything had been heard of Uncle Jason.
Miss Holmes smiled. "Mr. Savedra has a story for you," she answered.
"I will not spoil it."
He was walking up and down the path with Victor when she ran out to
him, eager-eyed and breathless.
"If you have missed one fortune, you seem in a fair way for another,"
he began smilingly. "I have been telling Victor." He put his arm about
her and drew her close. "Jason Chadsey's love for you is one of the
rare affections seldom met with. You know we were all surprised to
learn that you were no kin to him. But your mother did wisely when she
bequeathed you to him."
"Oh, you have heard, you know----" she interrupted vehemently. "He is
living. I--we," coloring, "must go and find him. He was more than a
father to me. Oh, tell me," and he felt her pulse tremble.
"You need not go. He will be only too glad to come to you. Two months
ago I was surprised when he entered my office. At first I could not
place him. But his voice and his eyes recalled him. He had gone
through a variety of adventures. He admitted that he had been eager to
get away from the town and forget his losses, though friends would
have been ready enough to help him in business again. He wandered up
to British Columbia, and all the land between he thinks marvellous in
its capabilities. It is like a romance to hear him talk. Then he came
down again, sometimes trying the wilds and forests, and at last
returning to an old resolve that had taken possession of him before he
saw you--to go to the gold fields. And thither he found his way about
six months ago. At first he was not much prepossessed. It seemed as if
everything worth while had been claimed. Then he fell in with a poor
young man dying with consumption, whose claim had been very promising
in the beginning, but some way had failed, but he had not lost faith
in it from certain scientific indications. They worked together for a
while. This Jarvis, it seems, had been at the School of Mines in New
York. But at the last he went very rapidly, and bequeathed his claim
to your uncle. A week after he had buried the poor fellow he unearthed
the secret again, and it was just as he was about to give it up. He
made no comment, but worked steadily, burying his gold every night
instead of taking it to his cabin, and adroitly hiding the real lode.
His companions laughed and jeered, one after another left the gulch.
Then, as I said, he came down to me with two or three small bags of
gold nuggets hidden about his person. Upon assaying, they turned out
first-class. So he left them in my possession and went back again,
delighted that he was at last on the sure track of your fortune. He
had the utmost confidence that you would return to him when you were
of age----"
"Oh, poor, dear Uncle Jason! His life has been devoted to me! But he
must not take all this toil and trouble. I do not care for the
fortune. Oh, you must believe that if I had not been compelled to go,
I should never have left him in adversity. It almost broke my heart,"
and she paused in tears.
"My dear child, no one could blame you. There was no other course
then. I understand how he felt about it."
"And now I must go to him at once----" raising her lovely eyes, full
of entreaty.
"My child, it will be better to send for him. It is a rough journey,
and a miner's cabin will not afford much accommodation for a lady," he
returned, with gentle firmness.
"But, I cannot wait. Why, I could fly to him," and she looked in her
beautiful eagerness as if she might.
"And Victor promised----" glancing at him.
"We can send a messenger at once, to-day, and a man can travel more
rapidly, put up with hardships. Neither can we lose you, when we have
hardly seen you. Think how patiently he is waiting, almost two years
more, he believes."
Laverne did yield to persuasion at length. For that matter not half
the experiences had been told over. They were all so glad to have her
that she felt it would be ungracious not to be joyous and happy. Elena
wanted to hear about London. Yes, she had seen the Queen and some of
the princesses, but she had not been presented.
"She would have been, as Lady Wrexford," said Victor laughingly. "And
you can't think all that a title counts for there. I wonder she wasn't
tempted. For I had not asked her then."
"But I had promised Uncle Jason."
Isola's music was a greater delight than ever. She had improved very
much under her careful training, though her soul's desire was still
improvising.
"Oh, how you would be admired in London," Laverne cried
enthusiastically. "Such a gift is really wonderful. Why some one ought
to write it down."
"Professor Gerhart has tried some things. But you see I never play
them twice quite alike, and that bothers. I want to turn this way and
that," smiling, yet flushing a little.
"Yes," Victor added, "you could make fame and fortune abroad."
"But she could not play in public," said the mother.
Then they must take new views of the town.
"There is no more Old San Francisco," Victor declared. "One would
hardly credit the changes if he were told."
There were streets now running out to Islais Creek, where the marsh
was being filled up. And the queer little corner, where the streets
ran a block or two in every direction by Channel Creek, still held
some adobe houses. Some day the Southern Pacific Railroad would run
along here and build its immense freight houses and stations. Market
Street was creeping along. Sandhills had been toppled over into
depressions. Great buildings had been reared. Kearny Street was
running up over Telegraph Hill. The lower end was given over to
handsome stores, that displayed goods which could stand comparison
with any other city.
Telegraph Hill was to be lowered, even after this revolution, that had
left the topmost crest fifty or sixty feet above sea level. It had a
rather curious aspect now. Some of the quaint old houses had been
lowered, and smart new ones formed a striking contrast. A few scrubby
oaks, firmly rooted, had defied removal, it would seem, and were left
in sandy backyards. The beautiful pine was gone, the old house had not
been worth any trouble, and so had shared destruction.
"I can't make it seem real," Laverne said piteously, with tears in her
eyes. "There is no more Old San Francisco."
There was no more little girl either.
But farther down the aspect was more natural. Here was the new
Presbyterian Church, where she had seen the old one burn down. And
here was Saint Mary's, with its fine spire still unfinished. The
Mission on Vallejo Street, and St. Patrick's in Happy Valley, and the
fine school of Mission de Dolores, they had all improved, though she
found some familiar features.
And the little nucleus of China Town had spread out. While the old
Californian and the Spaniard relinquished the distinguishing features
of the attire, the Chinaman in his blue shirt, full trousers, white
stockings, and pointed toes set way above the soles, and the black
pigtail wound about his head, looked just as she had seen them in her
childhood, and they had not grown appreciably older, or had they
always been old?
Mr. Dawson had died, and his wife had retired to a handsome private
dwelling, and kept her carriage. The Folsom House was much grander,
and Dick, a "young blood," whom girls were striving in vain to
captivate. Mrs. Folsom wanted to hear about her father's death, and if
her stepmother had lived up to her promises.
"I do suppose your father died a rich man. Or, did it all take wings
and vanish?"
Laverne answered that the business had not been settled, and that Mrs.
Westbury had proved very kind to her.
"I never could quite make up my mind about her. Queer, wasn't it, that
she should take such a fancy to you and insist upon having you, for
second wives' fancies don't often run that way. I had an idea she
would marry you to some lord, with all the money, they expected to
have. And here you've married that Mr. Savedra and come back. Does any
one hear what has become of that old uncle of yours?"
"Oh yes, he keeps in touch with Victor's father."
"It was too bad he should have lost all by that dreadful fire. Fires
have been the bane of the town, but we do not have as many now. Oh,
didn't the place look queer when we first came. There were rows of
tents still, and such shanties, and now great four-story bricks and
stone, and banks and business places. One would hardly believe it if
he had not seen it."
Mr. Personette was in a large real estate business, and even yet was
hardly reconciled that Howard had not gone into the law. But he was
very well satisfied with what he called "real business."
Mrs. Personette was stout and rosy, and had been made a grandmother
twice. Miss Gaines had taken a husband, though she still kept up a
very stylish establishment. Sometimes the three old friends met and
talked over their adventures.
Laverne was very happy and added a great charm to the household. Elena
would have had her talk continually about her life abroad.
"Why do you not make Victor describe some of the places where _he_ has
been? Every summer he took a journey away," she said, rather amused.
"He talks about places. You always put in the people, and they are
more interesting."
Jason Chadsey was startled by this message. His little girl really
here--but, after all, another's. At first it gave him a sharp pang.
Yes, he must fly to her. So he picked up his nuggets again. Norcross
Gulch was about deserted. Better mining had been found up on a little
stream emptying into the Sacramento. Cabins had mostly been carried
off, shacks had fallen down. Certainly, nothing could look more dreary
than a deserted mining region. But in a month or two another horde
would doubtless invade it.
He came in town and "spruced up," in his old Maine vernacular, was
trimmed as to beard and hair, and purchased a suit of new clothes. His
little girl! He ought to take some great treasure to her. What if she
were changed; but no, they would love each other to the very end of
life. He had sent her away in that desperate time, but no, he could
not have kept her.
Ah, what a meeting it was! A pretty girl with the air of a princess,
he thought, sweeter than some of the princesses he had seen, coming
back to his arms with all the old love, nay, more than the old love.
For now she realized what his affection had been, and how he had
soothed her mother in those last sad days. And she confessed to him
much that she had not even told Victor; how, by degrees, she had
learned the hollowness of the lavish professions that had put on the
semblance of love as the present whim had swayed Mrs. Westbury, and,
at the last, she had been really relieved to dismiss her, because she
could not bend her to her desires. For even Laverne had not suspected
her of aiming at the title for herself.
"And she takes everything!" he said indignantly. "He was concerned
with a company that will make some tremendous fortunes in
quicksilver--an English company. And it is said that he managed by
underhand ways to get possession of the tract while he was here. They
have just sent out a new agent, and that you, his only child, should
have no part nor lot in this!"
"Oh, don't mind," she cried, "I would rather belong to you in poverty
than to live with them in luxury. It was dreadful to have him die that
way; he was so fond of life, and business, and plans. It makes me feel
quite free not to be under any obligation to them. And I do not care
about the money. I would a hundred times rather have stayed with you
and helped you, and comforted you, if I could have been any comfort."
They would fain have kept Jason Chadsey for a longer stay, but he was
a little restless and would go back. He had not secured all the Golden
Fleece, he declared, and he must live up to his name. But he would see
them often now. To himself he said, he must get used to sharing his
little girl's heart with another, and, since it must be, he would
rather have it Victor than a stranger.
They were all very happy at the Savedras. The house was large, and
they gave them room and the heartiest of welcomes. And there was room
in the rapidly growing town, and need for young men of culture and
integrity and all the earnest purposes of life that mould men into
fine citizens. For there was much work to do in this glorious land,
even if nature had dealt bountifully by it.
And then came the terrific struggle that swept through the country,
with its four years of hopes and fears, sacrifices and sorrows, and
the loss of human lives. California took her share bravely. Gold mines
missed the rapid influx, the city had to call a halt in improvements.
But a great interest in agriculture was awakened, and now they
understood that this might be the most bountiful garden spot of the
world.
Through this time of anguish to many, Laverne Savedra felt that she
had been singled out for good fortune and some of the choicest
blessings of life. Her little son was born, and to none did it give
greater joy than to Jason Chadsey. He kept at his lode with varying
fortunes, and at length struck his aim in a splendid nugget that for a
while was the town's marvel. Now the place swarmed again, and he was
offered a fabulous price for his claim. He listened at length to his
earnest advisers, and retired from the field. For, though he was not
an old man, he had borne much of the heat and burden of life, and won
a resting time.
And, after years of trading about and buying a boat of his own,
Captain Hudson sailed in to San Francisco one fine day with his wife
and three babies, bright rosy children, and she with content written
in every line of her face. He had a cargo of valuables consigned to
several San Francisco firms, and they were overjoyed to meet old
friends. When her first baby was born, Carmen had written a long,
tender letter to her mother, and was glad to have a reply, even if it
did upbraid her dreadful disobedience. After that matters softened.
The old Papa Estenega died, and, though there were still some distant
cousins, he left the estate to those who had cared for him in his last
days. Juana had married well, and Anesta had a nice lover. She was to
go to Monterey to see them all as soon as Captain Hudson could be
spared.
And then, the last spike in the line that united California with the
East, was driven by Leland Stanford in May, 1869. Railroads were being
built elsewhere, but this was the dream and desire of the Old San
Francisco that had almost passed away.
But nothing could take away the beautiful Bay and the Golden Gate, the
entrance to the golden land that had been the dream of centuries.
Afterward they did go round the world. Some of the old ports had
changed greatly. Some just as Jason Chadsey had seen them thirty or
more years agone. And there was wonderful Japan, which was some day
to startle the world with its marvellous capacities. Strange India,
with its old gods and old beliefs; Arabia, the Holy Land, with its
many vicissitudes; great, barbarous Russia, Germany, the conqueror,
and the beautiful Eugénie a sorrowful widow.
In Europe, Isola Savedra joined them, and did make a name as a
remarkable improvisatrice. She did not court publicity, but the higher
circles of music were really enchanted with her marvellous gift, and
invitations came from crowned heads to play at palaces.
Lady Wrexford had achieved most of her ambitions, and was a social
success. If she could only have kept off old age!
They came back well content. And, lo! again San Francisco had changed,
stretched out up and down, with the hill-encircled bay on one side and
the ocean-fretted rocks on the other. Is this old Market Street, and
this Montgomery, with its splendid buildings? Whole blocks taken up by
spacious hotels. California Street, with its palaces; Kearny Street,
with its glittering stores and throngs of handsome shoppers or
promenaders--everywhere a marvellous city.
But the old "Forty-niners" are gone, the Mexican in his serape and
sombrero, the picturesque Californian on horseback, and nearly all the
wandering Indians. Tents and shacks and two-roomed adobe houses have
disappeared before the march of improvement.
The Savedras are prosperous and happy, and have a lovely home out of
the turmoil and confusion, where beautiful nature reigns supreme. And
an old, white-haired man, rather bent in the shoulders, tells a group
of pretty, joyous children about the Old San Francisco of half a
century before, and the long search of Jason after the Golden Fleece
and the little girl that he loved so well. They go up Telegraph Hill
and say, "Was it here she and Pablo made the little lake for Balder,
was it here she climbed up the crooked paths and tamed birds and
squirrels, and here that Bruno killed the cruel fox?" It is more
wonderful than any fairy story to them.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
The island currently called Alcatraz is variously spelled Alcatras,
Alcantraz, and Alcatraz.
Belvidere on page 20 should possibly be Belvedere.
Matteo on page 44 should possibly be Mateo.