Part 36 (2/2)

I've been economical all my life, for I had it in my blood, and it was my duty, as your father wished it; as long as he did his duty by me, I was more than willing to do mine by him: he can't deny it. But we all know what reaction means, and it has set in in me. When I am my own mistress, I'll give three b.a.l.l.s and two dinners a week. I'll have the finest carriages and horses ever seen in California. I'll have four trousseaux a year from Paris, and I'll go to New York myself and buy the most magnificent diamonds Tiffany's got. I'll refurnish this house and Fair Oaks. The walls shall be frescoed, and every stick in them will come from New York--”

She paused abruptly, springing to her elbow. The door was ajar. Through the aperture came a long low chuckle. Magdalena jumped to her feet, flung the door to, and locked it.

”Do you think he's gone mad at last?” gasped Mrs. Yorba.

”It sounded like it.”

”For Heaven's sake, don't leave me for a minute. You must sleep here at night. There's a cot somewhere,--in the attic, I think, if the rats haven't eaten it. What a life to live!” She fell to weeping, as she frequently did in these days. Suddenly her face brightened. ”If he should make a will disinheriting us, we could easily enough prove him insane after the way he's been acting these four years. Thank Heaven, this is California! General William could break any will that ever was made.”

Mrs. Yorba took an opiate and fell asleep. Magdalena went out, locking the door behind her. She determined to ascertain at once if her father was insane. If he was, he should be confined in two of the upper rooms with a keeper. The world should know nothing of his misfortune; but it would be absurd for herself and her mother to live in a constant state of physical terror.

As she descended the stair, the door of her father's study opened abruptly and a man shot out as if violently propelled from behind. The door was slammed to immediately.

Magdalena ran downstairs and toward the stranger. He was a tall man greatly bowed, and as she approached him she saw that he was old and wore a long white beard. His head was large and suggested n.o.bility and intellect; but the eyes were bleared, the flesh of the face loose and discoloured, and he was shabby and dirty. He looked like a fallen king.

”Was--was--my father rude?” asked Magdalena. ”He is not very well.

Perhaps I can do something.” The man appealed to her strangely, and she had a dollar in her purse.

”We were great friends in our boyhood and youth,” replied the stranger.

He spoke with an accent, but his English was unbroken. ”And he has been my guest many times. There was a time when he thought it an honour to know me. When the Americans came, everything changed. My career closed, for I would have nothing to do with them. I had held the highest offices under the Mexican government. I could not stoop to hold office under the usurpers--many of whom I would not have employed as servants. Then they took my lands,--everything. But I am detaining you, senorita.”

”Oh, no, no, indeed! How could they take your lands? Who are you? Tell me everything.”

”They 'squatted,' many of them, almost up to my door. The only law we could appeal to was American law, and California was a h.e.l.l of sharpers at that time. It is bad enough now, but it was worse then. And then came the great drought of '64, in which we lost all our cattle. We never recovered from that, for we mortgaged our lands to the Americans to get money to live on with,--everything was three prices then; and when the time came they foreclosed, for we never had the money to pay. And we were great gamblers, senorita, and so were the Americans--and far better ones than we were. We were only made for pleasure and plenty, to live the life of grandees who had little use for money, and scorned it. When the time came for us to pit ourselves against sordid people, we crumbled like old bones. Your father has been very fortunate: he had a clever man to teach him to circ.u.mvent other clever men. Years ago, when I was prouder than I am now, I put my pride in my pocket and wrote, asking him for help. I wanted a small sum to pay off the mortgage on a ranchita, upon which I might have ended my days in peace, for it was very productive. He never answered. To-day I came to ask him for money to buy bread. He roared at me like a bull, and vowed he'd blow my brains out if I ever entered his house again. He looks like--” He paused abruptly.

There was much of the old-time courtliness in his manner.

”I--I--am so sorry. And I have little money to spend. If you will leave me your name and address, I will send you something on the first of each month; and if--if ever I have more I will take care of you--of all of you. I suppose there are many others.”

”There are indeed, senorita.”

”Some day I will ask you for all of their names. And yours?”

He gave it. It was a name famous in the brief history of old California,--a name which had stood for splendid hospitality, for state and magnificence, for power and glory. It was the name of one of her beloved heroes. She had written his youthful romance; she had described the picturesque fervour of his wooing, the pomp of his wedding; of all those heroes he had been the best beloved, the most splendid. And she met him,--a broken-down old drunkard, in the dusty gloom of an old maniac's wooden ”palace,” in the fas.h.i.+onable quarter of a city which had never heard his name.

”O G.o.d!” she said. ”O G.o.d!” and she was glad that she had burned her ma.n.u.scripts. She took the dollar from her pocket and gave it to him.

He accepted it eagerly. ”G.o.d bless you, senorita!” he said. ”And you can always hear of me at the Yosemite Saloon, Castroville.”

He pa.s.sed out, neglecting to shut the door behind him, but Magdalena did not notice the unaccustomed rift of light. She sank into a chair against the wall and wept heavily. They were the last tears she shed over her fallen idols. When the wave had broken, she reflected that she was glad to know of the distress of her people; it should be her lifework to help them. When she came to her own she would buy them each a little ranch and see that they pa.s.sed the rest of their lives in comfort.

She leaned forward and listened intently. Loud mutterings proceeded from her father's room. She wondered if there was a policeman in the street.

She and her mother were very unprotected. The only man in the house besides her father was the Chinaman, and Chinamen are as indifferent to the lives of others as to their own. Don Roberto had ordered the telephone and messenger call removed years ago. The sounds rose to a higher register. Magdalena, straining her ears, heard, delivered in rapid defiant tones, the familiar national cry, ”Hip-hip-hooray!”

She went over softly, and put her ear to the thick door. The tones of the old man's voice were broken, as if by muscular exertion, and accompanied by a curious b.u.mping. Magdalena understood in a moment. He was striding up and down the room, waving the American flag, and shouting, ”Hip-hip-hooray! Hip-hip-_hooray_! hoo_ray_! hoo_ray_!

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