The Bride of Mission San José: A Tale of Early California

CHAPTER XIV
O'DONNELL TAKES A HORSEBACK RIDE

"Good pluck has that Indian lad of yours, Señor Mendoza. He faced the muzzles of the guns this morning without batting an eye."

Mendoza and O'Donnell were in the Administrator's office. Mendoza's eye was alert, his eagle face keen. The poncho thrown carelessly over his shoulders, his mustachios and imperial made him look the Old World soldier leader.

"My messenger evidently caught you before you broke camp." Mendoza spoke in English, as had the other.

"By my faith! he burst into camp on that sorrel like a meteor. I had 'Adelante!' half out of my mouth when he spurred on us. A dozen pistols were aimed at him, and why my fellows didn't shoot I don't see, except that they were afraid of hitting the horse. A native more or less wouldn't count, but these scoundrels know rare horseflesh night or day. Perhaps they'd peeked through the bars of your corrals, señor, when the peon riflemen weren't looking."

The frontiersman laughed. He lay back in his chair, crossing his legs, and waited for the other to speak. His beard and hair were free from the cords and were flowing over his breast and shoulders. The bearskin leggings seemed more shaggy than ever.

"Those men will be your companions for a thousand miles?"

"I can expect no other, Señor Mendoza. Besides, they serve me well."

"Señor O'Donnell, you represent great interests in California."

"On another occasion I showed you documents which assert that."

"Very true. Now, at a critical time you lose yourself in the wilderness, with no guard save a company of cutthroats who would take a man's life for a handful of pesos."

"Ah, Mendoza, what you say is so. This is a critical time and my men would hardly ornament a Sunday school. But I shall meet a representative of the United States somewhere to the east of here, a thousand miles more or less, receive instructions from Washington, and send back my reports. I go through safely; another might not; so I am my own messenger. In the passing of three new moons, as the Indian counts, I shall again be in the Valley of Santa Clara."

The big man laughed again.

"You go through safely, you say. Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. My dare-devils respect the man who is not afraid of them. Besides, I travel a country the chiefs of which are sworn Indian brothers to me."

"And you trust them—these wild Indians of the mountains?"

"Again I say, absolutely."

"I hope your faith is not misplaced."

"It is not. Mendoza, I have been for ten years among these fierce tribes. From them I learned the moods of the desert and the paths that conquer the mountains. Their tents were mine, and they shared their food with me. I came to know the Indian heart, and was willing to become blood brother with their chiefs. Yes, I trust them absolutely."

"Blood brother?"

"It is a covenant of friendship. I am as sure it will not be broken as I am that Kit Carson will keep word and meet me beyond the high mountains a month hence."

"But this covenant of friendship—this becoming a blood brother—how did you manage it?"

"By transfusion of blood from their veins to mine. The medicine men are surgeons—of a kind; the arm veins supply the blood."

Mendoza looked closely at the frontiersman. "You are, then, an Indian leader."

"I have the long hair of a chief, as you see. I allow my beard to grow, also, which the natives cannot do, to show I am a chief of chiefs."

"A chief of chiefs! What of Yoscolo? Is he included in this unique brotherhood?"

"No; decidedly no. Yoscolo disdains Indian virtues, replacing them by white men's wickedness."

"Will you be safe from him on this journey?"

"My friends would harry him out of the Sierras, and down to these valleys where he would meet destruction at the hands of your riflemen."

"Very good, friend O'Donnell. But I am keeping you too long. I will come to the point now. I detained you from an early start on that long road of yours for an important matter. The English have been very active in creating a sentiment here favorable to annexing our province to Great Britain."

"There are many signs of their activity; but others have been active too."

"It is time your government should survey roads between California and your westernmost outpost."

The large man sprang to his feet. "Capital, Mendoza! Capital, sir! It's good to hear you say that. I didn't expect it so soon. Will you put it down in writing, and sign your name to it?"

"Assuredly. I will also do my part toward welcoming settlers from your republic when the roads are built."

"Famous! Famous! That is exactly what I wanted you to say every time we've met. It's worth the hindrance in my journey to hear news like that." Then, suddenly, "Something special has happened to bring you to this conclusion. What is it? I've been debating for weeks with you, and with no apparent result."

O'Donnell seated himself. A peon had come in response to a signal from Mendoza.

"Aguardiente and cigarros," the master ordered.

"I can talk better when smoking," offering the other a light.

"Very well, I listen better."

They smoked for a little while without speaking.

"You know, personally, Farquharson, England's special representative here, if I remember rightly," Mendoza breaking the silence, his eyes intently studying his guest.

"I have not seen him for many years, but I once knew him well enough. He has been as busy as a bee for several months."

"Very true; but the other British agent, Señora Valentino, is still more active—of course you know all about it. By the way, was Yoscolo alone in the abduction of Farquharson a day or two ago in Monterey? Can you tell me? You know he was abducted, of course."

O'Donnell gave a roar of laughter, and smoked vigorously.

"It seems to me I did hear something of it. In fact, for a while everybody was inquiring for this lost Englishman. I ran into his servant who was ranging Monterey and shouting for his 'Cap'n.' I believe he found him too."

"It seemed to me that it was a little beyond even Yoscolo's talents to play such a game in Monterey city unless some white man had encouraged him."

The big man was greatly amused. "To tell the truth, Señor Mendoza, it was I who was in a measure back of that game."

"I thought as much."

"You see Farquharson came across the Indian several months ago, and played for his good offices. Not a bad idea, for a power of renegades followed him. All of Yoscolo's Indians were to declare for English sovereignty—much they know what it is. Yoscolo wanted money—the clever rascal. He made the capture as near Farquharson's banker as possible—a suggestion of mine. I figured that Farquharson deserved to lose his money for his attempt at bribery. But the Englishman slipped the toils. I heard Yoscolo nearly had a fit when the news reached him."

"You do not like Farquharson personally?"

A gust of anger came over O'Donnell's face. "No! No! The Englishman is my enemy for something that occurred years ago in old Ireland."

"I too knew Farquharson many, many years ago. I have not seen him in late times. I blamed him once for an act that reflected on his judgment. Later he greatly distinguished himself at Waterloo. I am surprised that he would stoop to bribery. In fact, the manner of procedure of the English agents here has not disposed me to their cause."

"So much the worse for England, and so much the better for the United States," O'Donnell commented.

"Good friend O'Donnell, I favor the United States in the present matter because they reach two thirds across the continent to us already; because their government appeals to me; and, last but not least, because their agent, Señor O'Donnell, is not attempting to rush our people like sheep into the American fold."

"Three cheers for you, Señor Mendoza! Speak these words from the housetops. Your patriotism will soon equal my own. The Irish and the Spanish are always of one heart anyway."

"Some time ago I told you that if I played in this political game, I'd use the trump that meant the most to the province of California. I am far from forwarding my own interest in thus doing." He went to a secretary and took therefrom a bulky envelope. Opening it he handed to O'Donnell several papers, one of which read:

"On recommendation of the Duke of Wellington, Jesus Maria y José Mendoza, of Mission San José, California, is tendered the office of major-general in the army of Great Britain," and mentioning in highest encomium Mendoza's masterful service from Talavera to the fall of Toulouse which crushed Napoleon, and sent him to Elba. The document was signed and sealed by high officials of the kingdom.

The other papers were personal letters from Wellington, the dates of which ran through many years, urging Mendoza to accept promotion and offering to advance him in every way should he come to England.

O'Donnell scanned the Administrator critically. "Yet you remained with this province?"

"Yes. I cast my lot with California, and with her I shall live. An English protectorate would, without doubt, be more to my own personal advantage; however, I favor American rule here."

"But, Señor Mendoza, how about your neighbors, north and south?" All at once the Irishman sat erect, suddenly realizing the full meaning of the words he had read. "A major-general in the British army!" He looked admiringly at Mendoza. "At my best I was but a grenadier-sergeant."

"Friend O'Donnell, my neighbors, north and south, are playing 'Follow the leader' in no small way. Señora Valentino, sister-in-law of our acting-governor, Barcelo, is the leader. She has cleverly brought them to the mountain top, and down the side they must go, by their own impetus—unless, O'Donnell, we hold them back."

"I know of this señora. Young Peralta raves over her. Carillo sings of her cleverness and beauty. The ladies vow she is a breath of old Madrid come to enliven the air of far-away provincial California."

"The señora is a very clever and a very beautiful woman," added Mendoza. "In Mexico I heard that she was coming here. She is famous on three continents as a most successful diplomatist. I can well believe she deserves the reputation."

"I'm sure of it—more than sure of it."

"Last night in my house my friends declared for the English flag. I advised consideration. She adroitly opposed. Her wishes carried. An attempt will be made to have the English government take possession at once. We must forestall them, O'Donnell."

"By my faith! By my faith! we must!"

"I love California too much to see her tossed precipitously into any hands, be it English or American."

The Irishman stormed back and forth over the floor.

Mendoza continued: "I have a plan, but the carrying it out would delay for some time your journey across the mountains."

"Carson awaits my coming, if I delay a month. What is your plan?"

"To find just where the American fleet is; catch the attention of your commodore; then call him for consultation with some of us here who have not been swept off our feet by the clever Señora Valentino."

"Three days ago the fleet stood into the scimitar-shaped bay west of here, Commodore Billings in command. He had sighted the British fleet off Callao, Peru, and scudded ahead of them."

"Bueno! Bueno!"

"I'll get in touch with Billings as soon as I can."

"Let him run his ships till he can anchor off some spot nearest San José Mission."

"The sooner I see the Commodore the better. Will you send a messenger to my camp telling my braves to wait there till further orders?"

"To be sure."

"Well, now to the saddle. I set out on horseback to overtake an ocean-going fleet. Ha! ha! ha!" the Irishman's wit coming to the fore.

"At least not till after breakfast."

"I've breakfasted already; thank you, señor. Adios!"

"Wait a minute. Tell me, have you been instrumental in keeping Yoscolo from molesting our herds and our servants in the San Joaquin? It must be some unusual influence, that has held him quiet this long."

"I've threatened him with a trouncing from the strong tribes in the interior if he continues his deviltries. He met our chiefs in a great powwow in the Sierras and spoke of peace to them, in the voice of a cooing dove. They do not trust him; neither do I. I'll deliver the thrashing if he breaks his word."

"I greatly regret, Señor O'Donnell, that our California valleys did not know you years ago."

"The regret is mutual."

They passed out to the courtyard gate.

The house guests were returning from cool dips in the swimming ponds, according to custom; then breakfast; then rest.

"Who is the stranger with our host?" one dueña asked of another.

"Doubtless some trader in tallow."

"Even the early morning after the baile leaves not the señor free from their intrusion."

The men parted.

CHAPTER XV
SEÑORA VALENTINO MAKES A REPORT

"Cap', if I do admit it, I never saw such a place as this for growin' things. Look at that grass. The finest hay in America could be cut there in way less than a month. Good oat, too, every spear of it. Reckon 'twill pretty much go to waste. Durn shame it is. Wish I had a hundred of them acres back in old Missouri. Whew!"

Early in the morning Brown and his employer had ridden down the hills skirting the eastern rim of Santa Clara valley, and were laboriously making their way through the luxuriant growths of that fertile section.

"I am not sure these acres will not be as valuable one day where they are as they would be in your native section," returned Farquharson.

"Put in your wheat, rye or barley here," continued Brown; "raise your crop. Then where be ye? Nobody round to buy you up and pay you money. We're too durn fur away here, Cap', for the country to be more'n bird ranges—yes, bird ranges, where the blessed little fellers can warble and chatter from daylight to their bedtime."

"Brown, what would you think if I predict that in a short time colonists will come here, men understanding farming and tree culture, to make this Western country their home?"

Brown shook his head. "If they double our tracks, Cap' from Santa Fé here, they'll need their fairy boots. Mighty rough trail we followed, and it's no smoother yet, I reckon. Besides, there's a sight of country between Santa Fé and civilization east of there which must be traveled some way. No, Cap', white men will shy this land for many a day, to my thinking. Durn sorry, too. Wish it wasn't so blame far from everywhere."

"But men can come here by water," suggested Farquharson.

"That depends where they start from. Quite a journey to here by water from Saint Louis, Missouri."

"No farther than England is from California. Brown, it would not surprise me if, before many years, shiploads of people from England will be tilling farms right here in this Santa Clara valley."

They were coming into the grounds of the Calderon hacienda. The white buildings gleamed in the morning light. The rolling hills formed a green background. Peons were going forth to the fields, at work in the gardens, or busy about their adobe cottages which nestled near the home of their master.

"Stay by the horses, Brown, while I enter," said Farquharson.

"Just as you say, Cap'."

The Englishman sought the entrance of the mansion and inquired for Señora Valentino.

"The señora met with an accident this morning," said one of the Señoritas Calderon who met him. "She is resting. Last night there was a baile at Señor Mendoza's, in Mission San José. She was there and has slept almost none till the present."

"Was the accident serious?" solicitude in his voice.

"Not serious, but painful."

"If you announce that Captain Farquharson would like words with her, I am sure she will not feel herself disturbed. It is really of great importance that I see her."

"What is it, querida?" asked Señora Calderon, coming to the outer hall.

"A señor caller to see Señora Valentino, mamita."

"She is nearly dropping for sleep, señor, as are we all. Besides, her hand is wounded."

"I saw your horse, Captain Farquharson, from my window, between winks. I had thought to catch an hour's sleep before you came. I am glad you are so prompt, though." Señora Valentino stood in the doorway. Then to Señora Calderon and her daughter, she said, "Friends, I made an engagement to speak with the señor caballero this morning."

"Pardon, señora. Pardon, señor," from the Calderons together. "We leave you."

"Well?" from Farquharson, when the others were gone.

"You have said it," Señora Valentino replied. "It is well."

"Tell me about it."

"In the first place, the Friar Lusciano Osuna has decided for active service."

"Good news, señora."

"The power of his words is overwhelming. He will be most valuable in winning Baja California to our cause. He came to see that English rule would be a fostering one to his Indian wards. On no other ground would he take part with us."

"But why do we need his work in Baja California more than in Alta California?"

"Good señor, this part of the province has been carefully worked over, and is responsive. In comparison, the lower half has scarcely been touched. I have made some representations touching sentiment there which may need bolstering."

"How?"

"Last night, at the baile, the young men, the most of them, were rapturously in favor of the English protectorate."

Farquharson smiled.

"The elders ardently followed; that is, the majority. A few hard-headed ones were obdurate. Mendoza, as I expected, was as set as a sheet anchor."

"Yes, señora."

"The greater number had arrived at that acute moment of mental tenseness when some outward act becomes a positive necessity. The dynamic, while thus agitating them, had set their consciousness in direction of an English protectorate. They became enthusiastic, perfervid, deadly determined on that protectorate.

"Then Mendoza voiced his desire of further consideration. So strongly did his personality affect the company that they were wavering, though still they shouted for England. Mendoza's very will was swaying them. The moment of our success was passing. Once let it slip, and all the king's horses could not bring it back to power again."

"Go on, señora."

"Then I used a letter which Señor Carillo recently sent me—not reading it, but interpreting into its contents a meaning which might be fairly given, though I think it overtranslated the writer's position. The smoldering enthusiasm of our señors blazed again.

"Still Mendoza held them. I began to fear that nothing would come of the meeting which had begun so auspiciously."

Farquharson was very intent.

"Perhaps you remember, Captain, reading in your school days from that old Latin lesson book, 'Viri Romæ,' how the cackling of geese saved Rome?"

"Assuredly," laughed Farquharson.

"Well, a game of cards saved us last night. My brother-in-law had suffered defeat at cribbage, and consequently was piqued. I had, some time ago, broached him on the subject of our work here, and he was not favorable. So I said nothing more to him. My brother-in-law rates most highly his proficiency at cribbage, and takes it very hard if defeated. The very-evident hold of Mendoza on the land barons seemed to increase his ill-humor, and straightway he, acting-governor as he is, declared for England."

"Extraordinary, señora! Most extraordinary!"

"His words threw the Californians into a frenzy. They cast aside all restraint, and boldly declared for an English protectorate.

"Young Peralta, with the Señors Hernandez and Valencia, were appointed a committee to meet the British representatives at Monterey, and to arrange for the fleet to take possession of the capital. I would rather they had waited for this till we had brought Baja California to the same conviction of mind that our friends reached last night at Mendoza's; but I thought it wiser not to oppose. 'Better a bird in the hand than two in the bush,' Captain."

"Yes, señora."

"Now, I'm sure Padre Osuna can sway our southern friends as he pleases, but the friar must have time. If this committee comes in communication with our admiral now, and he takes over Monterey, Northern California will applaud, but—Southern California may rise in rebellion."

"Yes, yes."

"Then, our admiral must not be found until we judge the time is ready. Keep him away from Monterey until all sections will welcome his coming to raise the British flag on Monterey castle."

"Of course our government expects us to do our part before summoning Admiral Fairbanks to do his. The Admiral will not appear officially until that time."

"You have the idea, my Captain. The committee goes to Monterey, when it chooses; the fleet comes when we choose."

"Will Mendoza and the others like-minded make any counter move? Could you determine anything as to that?"

"No, nothing, possibly because they may have nothing in mind to do. I spoke both to Zelaya and to Higuera. I think, Captain, they are an army with guns spiked. Yet, we must not relax until California becomes British territory."

"You say truly, señora. Admiral Fairbanks's fleet reached San Diego last week. Shortly he will anchor in the little bay north of Yerba Buena, where Francis Drake is believed to have sojourned. We will keep in touch with Fairbanks, and his ships will take possession of this province when the right moment comes; that is, when the people call aloud for it."

"A wise captain!"

"Tell me, señora, what of Morando? We have thought it well to bring high office within his reach. Now, what was his part in last night's victory?"

"He favors retaining the old ideals which Spain presented to all the New World provinces that she has settled."

"Yes, yes; let them be retained. But the present and great question? Did he stand by your side or Mendoza's?"

The lady bit her lip. "His steps found middle ground."

"Zounds; lady! Do you mean he is half-hearted?"

"I will tell you, señor. He is a Spaniard who has left the mother country for this wider field; nevertheless, he is a Spaniard, and he can never become English."

"He is welcome to remain the Spaniard in sentiment. Politically, however, he can be English. Is he different from the scores who last night declared for England?"

She did not reply.

"Does he look for a government different from the one to which his California brethren enthusiastically turn?"

Señora Valentino colored. "Captain Morando last night promised me to stand by Castilian manhood and womanhood. Hand and glove he declared it. Further he did not go. Try as I might he advanced nothing. The ruling thought of the hour passed him by."

"You astonish me."

"He is as deeply in love with Carmelita Mendoza as ever. His feet press after her everywhere." The señora's own foot tapped the floor impatiently.

"For this reason he favors Mendoza's reactionary tactics, you think?"

"I think his mind has never got very far beyond the fair Carmelita herself."

"A young and handsome fellow, my señora, makes love as easily as he talks. About as easily is it accepted—and forgotten."

"I do not think Morando's attitude toward the Señorita Mendoza can thus be described."

"Quite possibly, señora, quite possibly. Now, we had determined—it was your suggestion, by the way—to make this young man governor and commander here when the time comes. A splendid idea! All California will be proud of their handsome and brilliant leader. Our English colonists, when they arrive, will admire the soldier. A future of great usefulness and power awaits him. Why not find occasion, as you know him well, to tell him of these things, and make him one of us?"

"It is in vain."

"And why?"

"I did tell him. We rode together from Mission San José to this place."

"What did he say?"

"He said he contemplates soon leaving California forever."

"Most unaccountable, señora, most unaccountable! But—a man like Morando does not cast aside such prospects of high honors and power unless some strong counter attraction prompts him. Well—if he leaves, we must find someone to take his place."

Farquharson arose. "I hope your hand will not trouble you seriously. When do you return to Monterey?"

"I remain a day or two with the Calderons, then I go home."

"Allow me to congratulate you again on your success of last night. Directly I see Fairbanks I will send or bring you word. Good morning, señora. My best wishes to you."

The lady bade him farewell and watched him mount, the voluble Brown declaring, "These roses have spread out two inches while you've been gone, Cap'."

She waved another farewell, and turned again to the reception room. "I win provinces," she thought, "yet I am alone, alone. People crowd around me, yet am I lonely. I envy the peona we met this morning. I envy her the brood of pocos niños, her absent husband, and, above all, God of my soul! her contentment. If the world were mine I would give it for that!"

She went slowly to her room and closed the door, then turned to the mirror. It showed the faultless face and form of a beautiful woman. "It is all to win provinces!—nothing but—provinces."

She remained long in thought.

"Nothing but provinces!"

CHAPTER XVI
THE SEÑORITA OF THE WINDOW PANE

The fog lifted from Monterey Bay, for a few fleeting moments hung in aerial battlements over land and water, then dissolved in the alchemic sun-rays. The blue stretches of water laughed and sang on the beach. Soft southern winds purred among the crags which edged the ocean, rustled the tree branches, waved the flowers, rested on the tiled roofs of the white city, and fanned the calm-souled populace.

Another day had begun in the capital.

It was some minor feast day. The bells of the church on the town outskirts rang their call to service. A moment's silence. In the distance a clear note sounded, its limpid melody clinging in the air. Another note, and yet another, and another, until the breath of the countryside was resonant. It was the chimes of San Carlos Carmelo, a league away.

A young officer rode slowly along El Camino Real leading into Monterey from the north. A dozen or more mounted carbineers followed him.

Peon children stared curiously at the uniformed men, and whispered among themselves of the great caballero whose scabbard clinked against his silver-mounted stirrup with each forward movement of the horse.

"Whither bound, Señor Capitan Morando?" called a group of churchgoers.

"To the house of Colonel Barcelo."

"The Colonel and his señora are already in the church," some one said.

The Captain bowed and smiled, but continued his way.

He led his men to the square, then walked to the Barcelo mansion.

Benito, the porter, guarded the entrance.

"Have my unworthy eyes the honor of beholding Captain Morando, of San José?"

"I am Captain Morando, and I wish to see Señora Valentino."

"I am honored to lead you within." The man bowed low. "The señora is in the reception hall."

He conducted Morando to a large room opening directly on the courtyard. Wide doors lying ajar invited the refreshing air to enter, as well the morning sun.

"The Captain Morando," the porter announced.

"You are taking the sun, I see, señora."

"At my lazy ease, Captain. Please be seated."

They chatted for a little on different topics, till she said:

"Captain Morando, I spoke to you, the morning after Mendoza's baile, of the combined civil and military governorship of California when England comes. I sent for you to-day that I might talk this matter over further with you."

"I am highly flattered to call on Señora Valentino. A delightful woodland ride is followed by this more than delightful meeting." The young man placed his hand on his breast and inclined gracefully to the lady. She acknowledged the compliment by a single movement of the head.

"You do not forget that you have come this morning along El Camino Real—the King's Highway?"

"It is fit, truly, to be the highway of a king."

"Our Captain is appreciative. No?"

"In the past months I have followed it from San Diego to Sonoma, and have seen something of the magnificent framework of which this highway is the vertebræ."

The lustrous brown eyes smiled at him. "It has been traveled by vice-regal governor and Mexican envoy. This room received them. On that dais," pointing to a platform at the end of the apartment, "obeisance has been paid from the noblest the land held."

"Ah! this, then, was the state reception room," looking about with interest.

"Those straight-backed chairs along the wall held waiting grandees when California belonged to Spain; and governors for this province were sent from the homeland. Privy councils were held here. Agreements of state were formulated and signed here. Much of the history of California was made in this place. The house, from being the governmental palace, passed, in Mexican times, to private ownership."

"O, I see, señora."

"Captain, the old days must have been glorious, but, after all, they were but seeds of more significant times. The new governor will have vastly greater opportunity than the others ever dreamed of."

"I cannot doubt it, señora."

"Then, my Captain, be the first English governor in Monterey. The office will be yours for the taking."

"You speak to me, señora, of high office endowed with great power ready to my hand. Mindful as I am of your consideration, I could not, if I would, accept a place for which I have had no training, and for which I feel no aptitude."

"A modest captain! Your words do you credit, my soldier. But, you have not yet looked on all sides of the question. You would be the front of the incoming administration. Back of you would stand men who have had experience in applied statecraft, but who lack the unusual qualifications you possess successfully to represent English rule to the residents of this province."

"Still, señora, I would be occupying a position in which I would be entirely inexperienced."

"But think, Captain; consider. With time comes the experience."

"Again I thank you, señora. But, when I feel free to do so I shall leave California and seek a career elsewhere."

"California needs you. Castilian ideals and Castilian faith need you."

"I shall fail no duty, señora."

"But the governorship?" persistently.

"Señora, my friend, may I ask you to believe me when I say I could not accept it."

"Well, Captain, the formal offer, nevertheless, will come to you in a short time."

She touched a bell. Her maid entered.

"Atila, please bring us coffee and some of those dulces for which Alfonsa, the cook, is so famous."

The girl soon reappeared with a small table covered with a white cloth, and on which was dainty china ready for the serving. A pot of steaming coffee and a plate of freshly made sweet cake were added. A small vase of purple violets furnished adornment.

Gentle breezes stole into the room, carrying with them the nestling of the leaves in the patio and the perfume of the growing things.

"What a land of enchantment you have at your very side!" indicating the out-of-doors.

"Sometimes I fancy this to be a wishing-chair," indicating the one on which she was sitting. "Then the patio becomes unique. I often sit by the hour, and frame around it pictures of life as I would like to live it. That space outside is transformed into a jungle, the birds, my brothers and sisters, while the riotous colors embellish the leafy homes of the little people. Sweet woodsy odors refresh me, and I repose in the shady recesses, my heart singing the songs of Utopialand."

"Most pleasing fancies, indeed, my señora."

"They are my refuge. I lose myself in fancyland to crowd out other and unhappy memories." Her eyes grew troubled. Her face lost its curves of power.

"My dear Señora Valentino," began the soldier, his chivalry touched, "your husband is gone from you, but——"

Her gesture stopped him.

"I anticipate your words, Captain. It is not what I have lost that makes me sad. It is the absence of what forms the warp and woof of a woman's life, the things I have never had."

"What they can be I do not know, señora. I cannot imagine a life more filled than yours, except for the loss of——"

Again her gesture left his sentence incomplete.

"Captain Morando, forgive me if I say such words mock me."

"Señora, the world is at your feet. The bravest and the proudest court your smiles. At that ball in Madrid I saw our commander lead you to the king, and together they bowed over your hand, while the multitude applauded. Can you not even now hear them? 'Viva! Viva! the fairest and gentlest in the kingdom! Viva! Señora Valentino!'"

"Not that, Captain; not that," deprecatingly. "Praise from the lips fills not the heart. Five years ago a prima donna thrilled all Europe. King and subject alike did her homage. In Paris the noble were honored by drawing her carriage to the opera house, having detached the horses. Yet last year she died alone and heartbroken."

"But for you, my dear lady!"

"It almost overcomes me, Captain, when I look back over my life. I rarely have courage to do so." She knit her brows.

"You know Señora Barcelo is my half sister only?" abruptly.

"No, I did not."

"My father was an elderly man when he married my mother. His daughter, now Señora Barcelo, was then nearly grown. My mother died when I was three years old, my father, a few months later. I can scarcely remember either. My half sister married and went away. I was placed in the convent of Maria del Pilar, in Madrid."

"Maria del Pilar!"

She nodded.

"I was in the division of the convent assigned to the daughters of hidalgo worth. I was reared there, on the strictest monastic lines. I was naturally light-hearted. Perhaps my grave teachers did not understand me, for they fettered my spirit by restrictions most onerous. If they had only taken the little motherless child to their arms and kissed away the loneliness!

"One day I was in punishment for some infraction of discipline. The penalty was to remain alone in the dormitory, on the topmost floor of the building. I heard martial music in the square before the convent. I knew that the cadets of San Sebastian military school were drilling there."

"Why, señora, I——"

She continued. "The windows were stained except one pane, not a large one, which had been broken and replaced by plain glass. I climbed to it—the pane was rather high—and witnessed the military maneuvers. I remember the captain of one company as well as if it were yesterday, his youthful figure and trim uniform, his sword against his shoulder, his intent face."

Morando was listening closely.

"Whenever I could I watched that cadet corps at its evolutions on the plaza. Often I stole away from study to the dormitory.

"One day the captain saw me. He waved his sword. I tapped the glass. That formed a code of signals."

The soldier smiled.

"The years went on. I saw my young captain become a colonel; saw his smooth lip darken with mustachios. His eyes and sword flashed at me the first time he wore the colonel's chevrons.

"A firm hand on my shoulder startled me one day. 'Step down, señorita,' came the voice of our prefectress of discipline. 'Now let me see this great sight!' My colonel was waving his sword toward the window. He turned away when the new face came in view, but not in time to prevent the sister prefectress seeing the salutation.

"A council was called. My teachers decided that a very grave breach of discipline had been committed. The prefectress, even with inspection from a nearer window, could not designate the cadet who had waved his sword. 'How long has this continued?' they demanded. I told them. They were greatly shocked.

"I was ordered to point out the military student who had been so indiscreet as to carry on flirtation with a hidalgo's daughter in Pilar Convent. I refused to do so, nor could they overcome my will. I feared for him. The mother superior vowed she would have him 'broken.' She was the cardinal's sister, and all-powerful.

"My penalty soon came. The head of my family, a cousin, was called. He took as grave view of my conduct as had my teachers. 'A marriage must be arranged for the imprudent girl at once. A man of years and firmness should be found. This levity must yield to correction,' he decided.

"Colonel Valentino had been a widower for several years. He was my cousin's intimate friend. The wedding day was set before I even saw my future husband.

"I objected to the marriage, but the Spanish conventions of our class are as unyielding as stone. What could I do, but finally consent? At seventeen I found myself married to a man old enough to be my father. There was nothing in common between us. He meant to be kind. He was just, as he was courageous and able. I accompanied him on diplomatic missions and learned much, but knew no happiness. Then he went to Morocco, and death. I am here to work in a cause I believe to be right, but——"

She bowed her head. "If I gained the whole world for England, it would not fill one empty cranny of my heart."

Morando did not know what to say in response.

"I have never known a father's care, nor a mother's love. Add to this unhappy childhood. Add again a loveless and childless marriage, and you have my life."

"My dear señora! My dear señora!" His words stopped. He was standing before the lady, who also arose, her eyes flashing, her tones vibrating.

"I was in Constantinople, Great Britain's agent, when the news came of Colonel Valentino's death. I started at once for Spain. A storm raged on the Sea of Marmora. I took the wedding ring from my finger and threw it into the foam. The roar of the tempest and the shriek of the cordage was the requiem of that marriage-symbol. I wish I could bury the past and its memories as deep as is buried that ring. But memories will not down," she went on passionately. "Some unquiet spirit possesses them. They trouble my sleep at night; they walk with me in the day. And, O, my Captain, the future!" She closed her eyes with a little shudder, as if to blot out unpleasant sights.

"My dear lady, you forget what you are in the lives of others. Even that embryo soldier, the cadet of San Sebastian's, welcomed his colonelcy the more because the girl-face in the little diamond pane would brighten when she saw the uniform. The inspiration to win honors came in no small degree from that topmost spot of grim old Pilar Convent."

He looked intently at her, his voice throbbing with emotion.

"My señora, have you known—did you know—do you not——" His voice broke.

She said nothing, but her eyes searched his.

"O, señora—that night at the ball in Madrid—that night when you——"

"What, my Captain?"

His words came more steadily.

"When I saw you at General Guerrero's ball I was beset by voices from the past calling to me, persistently calling. I was introduced to you. The voices called louder. Still were they incoherent. The evening grew. I danced with you. I could not fathom the meaning of that call which sounded with increasing insistency. The days passed. I concluded that some wraith of dreams had hovered over me. At the merienda, when again introduced to you, I did not, for the moment, recognize the Señora Valentino of that military ball. You reminded me of our previous meeting, which I immediately recalled, the difference in your gown explaining my lack of recognition. As I talked with you the past spoke again to me, and in language I could not comprehend.

"O, señora, need I tell you that I was that cadet-lad who for three years waved his sword in greeting to the girl at the window! I have never forgotten you."

"But when the face did not again appear at the window?"

"I saw the stern visage replace yours, and afterward there was a blank. I had no way to reach you."

"Yes," calmly, "the incident was closed. My betrothal was arranged, and you started on your campaigns."

"I had no thought punishment would come to you."

"It came."

"My dear lady, I would have saved you at any cost had I known. My heart bleeds that I was in any way the cause of tragedy in your life."

"You are more than kind, Captain."

"I wish I could give back to you those lost years."

"Your wish is most generous, señor."

"Before an unwilling marriage should have been forced on you I would have scaled those barbed walls to bear you away with me, after the manner of the knights of old."

"But you did not know. The walls were unsealed. From the girls' dormitory I went into life—and such a life it has been! The soldier-lad's life was different."

Her bosom was heaving, her breath coming in quick catches. She crumpled into a chair, and covered her face with her hands.

"O, señora, señora!" moving a step nearer.

A storm of sobbing was the only reply.

He knelt by her side.

"O, señora! My dear señora!"

He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Look at me, my poor, crushed señorita of the window pane."

She let one hand drop to her side, the other reached to his. The velvet eyes brimming with tears looked piteously at him.

"I ask—I beg of you—O, señora——"

Somehow she came into his arms.

"Until to-day I never knew that you were the señorita of the window."

"You were the knight who went to the wars and left forlorn his lady."

A fresh sob convulsed her. The compelling personality of the señora was gone. The imperious, beautiful woman was submerged in a being clinging and tender.

The man made an effort to speak, but his tongue refused to obey. Finally: "Señora, I too am desolate. My sympathy for you is yet the greater because my own heart has been bereft. Señora——"

A heavy foot was on the vestibule floor. Colonel Barcelo entered.

"Benito, the scoundrel, asleep in the sun! Actually asleep! A pretty sentinel! 'Pon my soul! I smell coffee. I've had no breakfast and am hungry as a wolf."

He pushed forward.

"Why, here's Morando! Glad some one was here in my place to entertain you. My wife's sister hasn't felt herself since that confounded affair over on the Mendoza grant. He should be told of the birds of prey that infest the place. Time he should set those prize native riflemen of his to killing off such pests. Caramba! but that coffee smells good. Is there any of it left?"

Señora Barcelo had followed her husband into the room.

"Crisostimo! Why, you have not even said good morning to the Captain! Of course breakfast will be ready for us at once."

"I hope so! Hope so! Morando, I heard this morning the most wonderful sermon of my life. Something I didn't expect to be able to say in this town. Padre Osuna, of Mission San José, preached. 'Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not,' was his text. Applied it to the Indians of the province, our duties to them, and all that. I've never been so near heaven in my life as when he was speaking. Looked at my watch when he began—force of habit, you know. Looked again when he finished. 'Twas just fifty-seven minutes. I would have sworn it wasn't ten.

"Come in!" he called, in response to an insistent knock at the door.

It was Benito.

"A messenger from Señor Berryessa is at the outer gate. He seeks Captain Morando. Renegades last night attacked some outlying corrals, killed and wounded a number of vaqueros, then set off by starlight toward the eastern passes, taking many cattle and horses."

Morando hastened to the door.

"Pity you can't stay and have coffee with us," said Barcelo.

The Captain's spurs were already jingling on the pavement. "Adios!" he called back.

"A fine fellow, that!" the Colonel remarked. "Sorry I was out when he first came. In the new order I'll have men enough to crush out the renegades once for all. The Captain won't be run so off his feet then."

CHAPTER XVII
O'DONNELL SETTLES WITH YOSCOLO

The luminous haze of late spring lay contentedly over the Mendoza hacienda. The noon hour had come with its somnolent warmth; and all nature was dozing in the sun, except the bumblebee, victim of omnipresent unrest, and the hummingbird, which always finds the day too short for its multifarious duties.

The peon workman, in from the fields, was satisfying hunger in his whitewashed cot; or, the meal over, was stretched on the earthen floor, a kerchief over his face, enjoying the midday siesta. The peona wife stepped lightly around tidying the room, and then took place by her husband's side, their children lying tumbled about.

Peace rested on the Indian adobe village which flanked the hacienda house. Inside the mansion itself there reigned the stillness of night.

A footstep descending stairs somewhere seemed unusually loud. Finally a door opened, making a grating, out-of-place sound. Señor Mendoza's erect form appeared on the west side of the courtyard. He walked leisurely toward an avenue shaded by the interlacing branches of thick-leafed walnut trees. A tiny brook fed by a spring in the middle of the courtyard purled along by his feet. A grateful coolness lifted itself to greet him. The odor of damp earth mingled pleasingly with the scent of flowers; and from under the south wall of the inclosure came the rhythm of a miniature waterfall as the brook lost itself on the rocks many feet beneath.

The señor found that he was not alone in seeking the leafed coolness of the walnut alameda. The Doña Carmelita was standing at the end of the walk listening, apparently, to the music of the water. Her hair, free save where a golden clasp held it at the neck, gave play, as it flowed over her back, to the beginning breezes from the western sea. The profile of her face was thoughtful. Delicate lines traced the exquisite fullness of a form straight and slender.

"My daughter is a beautiful woman!" he half ejaculated.

Many thoughts ran through his mind in panoramic vision. He recalled the long gallery in his father's castle where had hung the pictured forbears of the de la Mendoza. Generations were there. Their characteristic form and features had descended to Carmelita. No government rule could prevent that, though it might vent titles and confiscate lands.

"My daughter a woman! A beautiful woman!" The thought half startled him.

The girl turned and walked toward him.

"Little papa! Little papa mine! are you taking the siesta on your feet?"

Carmelita's slender hands were on his broad shoulders, and she was endeavoring to shake him. Her merry laugh pealed through the avenue.

"I smiled at you, and smiled at you, and blew kisses at you, while you looked at me as if I were a thousand leagues away, and you deigned never the least recognition," standing on tiptoe and kissing him.

"I was living again the years of very long ago."

"Tell me about it, little papa."

She took his arm, and together they walked along the avenue.

"Tell me about it, papacito," she repeated.

"Why are you not at the siesta?" disregarding her question.

She looked up at him demurely.

"I did not care to sleep. Besides," jestingly, "we must accustom ourselves to the ways of the Americano who will soon come here. You remember I have spoken to you of Señor Brown, the man who was so thoughtful in the cave the night of the storm?"

He pressed her arm tenderly in reply.

"I saw him lately in San José. He told me, among other things, that Americanos never sleep in the day, and sparingly at night; indeed, often with one eye open." She laughed. Her father joined.

"The Americanos are coming, you say?"

The girl stepped in front of him, placed her hands against his breast and looked into his face.

"Papacito mio, since the baile you have slept not one night at home, but in the morning returning with the travel-stains of much riding. Messengers are coming and going between you and the bearded stranger after whom Benito rode away so furiously in that early morning. I know my little father too well to think he will allow Señora Valencia and Hernandez and the others to have their way so easily about England coming here. Yes, the Americanos are coming, because you have willed to have them come. Papacito, I feel it."

"My child, England, the greatest power the world knows, does not rely so much on Valencia and Hernandez, nor yet the others, as on the wit of a very clever woman, seconded by Captain Farquharson, principal of your good friend, Brown."

The doña's arms fell to her side. They resumed their walk.

"Captain Farquharson also was very kind the night of the storm."

"I do not forget that, little one. When Padre Osuna came to me, the evening of the baile, with word that the Englishman was in straits, I intended to help Farquharson, even by placing myself under obligation to O'Donnell, which I would have disliked very much, at that time."

"Why, papacito, did Padre Osuna come to you?"

The señor smiled. "Señora Valentino."

The girl's eyes once more bent in thought. "Why?"

"Again the night in the cave," he laughed. "I am indebted to the padre, and could not have refused his request to help the English captain, of which the señora was well aware. Immediately I divined O'Donnell to be the real cause of Farquharson's predicament, and I knew that he would gladly grant me the request, did I make it, to free the captive. The lady's mind ran the gamut of the cause and effect."

"It is like an endless puzzle, my papa."

"Which the Captain solved of his own accord by taking himself out of his plight, aided by Brown."

They walked a little while in silence. Filipo, the porter, looked in surprise at them from his high seat in the lodge. Usually he was the only person awake on the hacienda at this hour. His little beady eyes followed them up and down, up and down the avenue.

"My daughter," the father finally said, "we have in California, in a small way, an example of the game of statecraft. Europe plays on a larger scale, but it is the same. There, as here, the charm and brain of woman supply the leverage for overturning states."

"I would not have thought Señora Valentino gifted in that way."

"Six months ago the señora and Farquharson were in Mexico City. Don Juan Domingo told me of them. O'Donnell also was there, but under an assumed name. I too was there, though I saw none of the three. The lady's fame had followed her to the capital. Her hand has in no way lost its cunning here. The older men—well, we know how they accepted her wishes a few nights ago; and the young men are at her feet. No wonder."

Carmelita said nothing.

"Señora Valentino has won the padre to her side; has influenced the well-poised Carillo, of the South, and many others there. She has, in the North, toyed with men's intelligence whose balance I had never before doubted."

The girl's eyes were straight ahead. The father and daughter went for a few moments without speaking.

The señor broke the quiet. "Little one, if by any chance future years shall see misfortune here, provision has been made for thee across the seas. The proceeds of the lower hacienda, thy mother's, had she lived, have been placed for thee in London's Bank of England. Friends thou wilt find in England. Their names are written in my will. Thou canst find protection there always, should it ever fail thee here."

"California has been thy home, my father, and it shall always be mine."

"A brave daughter and a loving one."

It was some time before further conversation.

"Thou art a woman grown. Though I married late in life, yet may I still live to see thee on a husband's arm."

She looked archly at him. "There is Don Abelardo. You know friends have said that his father and mine arranged for a match."

"Yes; but it is not true. You are to have the making of your own life."

"Papacito, my dueña says that more and more are people speaking of this purported engagement. I know, of course, how the story began with the peons present when Abelardo's father passed away in your arms; but, why should such sudden interest arise now?"

"The peons understood little of Señor Peralta's words, and spoke much, as Indians often do. His utterance touched the friendship of his family and mine, nothing more. Peralta would never have dreamed of betrothing our children without their wish and consent; nor I of entering such a compact, though such has been the custom in Spain—a custom truly more honored in the breach than the observance."

"But, papa, I don't want this idea that Abelardo and I are engaged to be married to get so widely about. What can we do?"

"Do nothing, my girl, do nothing. Attention paid to such things only nourishes their growth. What does it amount to, anyway?"

Filipo came over to them.

"Captain Morando, and many with him, are dropping down the steep hills, and are coming in this direction. The field glass shows them plainly."

Mendoza and his daughter walked toward the gate.

"Morando is one of the few who have not been influenced by Señora Valentino. He has maintained clear head and uncompromised tongue. Sword and glove he has declared himself for Castilian manhood and womanhood. I would be willing, as, indeed, should everyone, to clasp hands with the señora on that declaration; as did the Captain in the supper-room the night of the baile. I wish all my friends had held their wits against this agent of Great Britain as firmly as he."

The señorita paled, then flushed.

"Pity that Morando thinks of leaving California. I have it not directly from him, but O'Donnell heard him say that he intends to seek new fields as soon as he can," continued the señor.

Morando and his soldiers rode to the gate and saluted the Mendozas.

"I have several men who are rather severely wounded. May I leave them here in your care while we push on farther?"

"Certainly, my friend, certainly. But, Morando, you are tired, I know; so are your men. Alight, every one of you, for rest and refreshment. Filipo, call the servants from the siesta."

The loud blast of Filipo's bugle brought life into the hacienda house and around it.

"Muchas gracias, señor. I cannot remain. We have been engaging Yoscolo since yester noon. This morning a large number of the renegades came to the front and fought vigorously for a time. Then they scattered. Some of the prisoners have told us that, during the fight, Yoscolo and a picked body of his men doubled around us, intending to cut across the valley, and make the Santa Cruz mountains at La Cuesta de los Gatos. We must hurry in pursuit."