Part 2 (1/2)
”May I?”
”No.”
”But you would not miss me, nor mamma either.”
”I choose you shall be educate at home. I no approve of the schools. Si Helena Belmont was my daughter, I take the green hide reata to her every morning; but Belmont so soffit, the school is better for her. You stay here. No say any more about it.”
”Could I not travel with her after? I want to travel.”
”Si I find time one day go abroad, I take you; but you no go with Helena Belmont. I no am surprise si she make herself the talk of Europe.”
”Could not mamma go with me?”
”Your mother no leave the husband! Never she propose such a thing!”
”Do you think you will be able to go soon?”
”Very doubt. The Californian who leave the business for a year working like the dog for five after. Si he find one red cent when he come back, he is lucky. The man no knowing just where he is even when he stand over the spot.”
”Then when Helena goes, can I go to Santa Barbara for awhile and visit aunt?”
”You no can! I no wish you ask the reason. You never go to the South!
Never before you talk so much, by Scott!”
VI
Magdalena had failed at every point. She had expected to fail, but she felt miserable and discouraged, nevertheless. After dinner she went up to her room and prayed to the Virgin. In time she felt comforted, her tears ceased, and she sat thinking for some time at the foot of her little altar. With the sad philosophy of her nature she put the impossible from her, and considered the future. It had been arranged long ago that she and Helena, Ila and Tiny, were to come out at the same time; the great function which should introduce to San Francisco three of its most beautiful girls, and its most favoured by lineage and fortune, was to be given by Mrs. Yorba. The other girls would come out a year earlier or later. Ila and Tiny were already in Europe. She had three uninterrupted years before her. In those years she could do much.
When she was not studying, she would read the best authors and learn their secret. Her father had no library, but Colonel Belmont had, and she was a life member of the Mercantile Library; the members.h.i.+p had been presented to her two birthdays ago by her luncheon guests, who respected what they would not emulate. She pressed her face into her hands, striving to arrange the nebulous thoughts and ambitions which burned in her brain.
There was a wild ringing of bells. She raised her head and saw a red glare, then rose and walked over to the window. She thought a fire very beautiful; and as there were many in that city of wood and wind, she had had full opportunity to observe their manifold phases. Her bedroom adjoined the schoolroom, but was on the corner of the house at the back, and overlooked not only the business part of the city between the foot of the hill and the bay, but the region known as ”South of Market Street.” This large valley had its aristocratic quarter, but it was now largely given over to warehouses, depots, and streets of the poor. A month seldom pa.s.sed without a big blaze in this closely built combustible section. To-night there was a long narrow ribbon of flame twisting in the wind, which in a few moments would leap from block to block, licking up the flimsy dwellings as a cat licks up milk. Above the ribbon flew a million sparks, turning the stars from gold to white.
Every moment the wind twisted the ribbon into wonderful fantastic shapes, which beset Magdalena's brain for words as beautiful.
She listened intently. Some one was climbing a pillar of the balcony. It was Helena, of course: she often chose that laborious method of entering a house whose doors were always open to her. Magdalena opened the back window and stepped out onto the balcony.
”Is that you, Helena?” she whispered.
”Is it? Just you wait till you see me!”
A moment later she had clambered over the railing and stood before the astonished Magdalena.
”What--what--”
”Boys' clothes. Can't you see for yourself? I'm going to the fire, and you're going with me.”
”Of course I shall not. What possessed you--”
But the astute Helena detected a lack of decision in her friend's voice.
”You're just dying to go,” she said coaxingly. ”You adore fires, and you'd love to see one close to. Put a waterproof on and a black shawl over your head. Then if anybody notices you, they'll think you're a _muchacha_ from Spanish town. As I am a boy, I can protect you beautifully. We'll go to the livery stable and I'll make old Duff give me a hack. I've a pocket full of boodle; papa gave me my allowance to-day. Here, come in.” She dragged the unresisting Magdalena into the room, arrayed her in a waterproof, and pinned a black shawl tightly about the small brown face. ”There!” she said triumphantly, ”you look like a poor little greaser, for all the world. Don Roberto would have a fit. Do you think you can slide down the pillar?”