CHAPTER XIX
THE GUIDING FINGER
Agnes Westbury watched her stepdaughter closely when the two young menwere gone. She did not droop. She was happy and serene, compliant withwhatever was proposed. She made some visits to the hospital with MissDoncaster; that was safe enough. Charity had not come to be a fadthen, though there were many earnest workers.
Mr. Westbury and Lord Wrexford took a run over to Paris. After that hewas a frequent visitor. Mrs. Westbury had a curious charm for him. Shewas so intelligent that he sometimes forgot it was like talking to aman.
"You American women know about your husband's business and never seemto think it a bore," he said one evening. "Ours do take an interest inpolitics when their husbands are up. And you have the art of makingattractive homes. Now, the average person would have a certainstiffness about this place----" The belongings were of the regulationsort, and individual taste was hardly comprehended.
She had added some easy chairs, an odd and pretty table, with a seriesof shelves to hold books of engravings, and portraits of celebratedauthors and artists, several fine vases disposed around, and thesearticles announced with an air "we belong to the present mistress,"the furniture belongs to the house.
"I like to take some comfort and not be continually fretted withsurroundings. As we are living in furnished houses mostly, I can'tsuit myself. I don't pretend to. I just have a little and dream ofwhat will be when we are permanently settled."
"I wonder if that will be here--in London?" tentatively.
"I think I shall not go back to America, 'the States,' as you callit," smiling a little. "I shall have Laverne to keep me company if Mr.Westbury has to take a business journey. I confess to a fondness forthe older civilization. Our land is still in an undeniably crudestate. But so were you a few centuries back."
This woman had a curious charm in her frankness, that was never rudeeven in its most truthful moments. There was something about her thathe could not define, and that kept him studying and full of interest,watching the next turn. If it was art, it was the most judiciouslymanaged. If it was due to temperament, then, indeed, she had amany-sided nature. She kept young, but it was not the shy simplicityof her daughter, she seemed to have a wide range of knowledge, but shewas not pedantic, not obtrusive. There were dainty concessions thatflattered a man, little embellishments that seemed an understanding ofa man's mood, too delicate for him to pick to pieces, if he could.Then there was a mysterious charm about her attire, a Frenchadaptiveness of style, of something made different from most women,with a touch of color, a bow or a flower. She was a pleasant study.
Now and then she delicately drew Laverne into the talk. She asked herto bring over the portfolio of Albert Duerer's engravings they hadbought only a few days before, and draw up the small buhl stand. Thenthey discussed them and Holland; she had been reading up a volume oftravels that very morning, and was as fresh as if she had just comefrom there. Laverne was appealed to for this or that. She was not keptin the background, but she seemed always flying there with adorableshyness.
Afterward in his own room, smoking his pipe, he thought the matterover, as he often did. He had been rescued from an _esclandre_, hisfather had been buried as became one of the old line of Wrexfords. Hecould go back to the Grange with a certain prestige. He might be askedto stand for Chediston. There would be no more straits and pinches ofpoverty, and he had suffered a good many during the last three years.All this smooth sailing was conditioned on his marrying LaverneWestbury. She was a nice enough young girl, but he had had a surfeitof young girls. It would be hard to bridge over the seventeen yearsbetween them, very hard for her.
If it was the mother instead! Not being her own daughter she washardly likely to resemble her more as time went on. He had a vaguefeeling that the child was something less than money-making in herfather's life. All this matter was largely in her mother's hands, andif the threads were not wisely pulled, Wrexford Grange would be in herhands, too. Yes, if _she_ were single.
For the present he was out of society proper. He went to his club, hecalled on a few old friends, and he was taking a rather curiousinterest in one of the new companies. He really might be a rich managain.
So passed away a month or two. Mrs. Westbury had meant to push Laverneinto society, perhaps have her "presented" at some Court drawing roomin the season. But as Lady Wrexford it would have a much greatereffect. There could be a marriage four or five months after the oldlord's death.
Was Laverne ignorant of the trend of all this? She was thinking thatat Easter she should see Victor again, and that would be another bitof the old life to sustain her exile. So she listened with only halfattention to hints and suggestions. She knew her father had invested agood deal of money in Wrexford Grange, and that her mother liked LordWrexford, that as they were not very gay he enjoyed dropping in, thathe was their attendant on various occasions of the soberer sort.
David Westbury said to his wife: "You had better state the case toher. She has some of that New England obtuseness. Well, she is veryyoung. We have grown much wiser in the world's ways since that earlyperiod of our lives. It is the gain of experience," with a short,brusque laugh.
Then he kissed her. She always exacted that, and it was generallyfreely given.
"I may not be back until late to-night," he said.
It was a miserable day, with a blinding fog that had better have beena rain. Laverne practiced two hours instead of one, then she readaloud in a novel of the day. There was luncheon; some dawdling andscolding about the weather.
Once Mrs. Westbury put her arms about Laverne and looked into her eyeswith an intense expression.
"I wonder how much you love me?" in a caressing, pleading tone. "I'mtrying to do all the nice things I can for you; what would you do forme?"
"Why--there is nothing I _could_ do," with a delicate emphasis. Surelyshe could not spend all her life with Mrs. Westbury--making thatmental reservation.
"You _could_ do something that would repay, that would give yourfather and myself the greatest happiness."
She was not destined to hear it just then. Some styles had been sentfrom the dressmaker's, would Mrs. Westbury look them over and choosewhich suited her?
She was having a lavender satin made, and here were also patterns oflace for the trimming. So they discussed them. Then the postman, a fewinvitations to answer. It was so dark the house was lighted up.Laverne went to the piano again and tried to catch some of the elusivethings she had learned from Isola Savedra. She could see the lovely,half-tropical home, hear the sweet voices, smell the fragrances of ahundred blooms. Ah, how lovely it must be on that Pacific slope. Shecould have cried with rapture and pain.
Dinner, then a long evening. No one came in. Laverne read, hardlytaking in an impression.
"Put up the book, Laverne." The voice was persuasive, but it struck achord of fear in the girl's soul. "Your father wished me to lay asubject before you that is very near his heart, that would reallycrown his endeavors for wealth and standing. And it is _my_ desire aswell. I think I have always studied your welfare from the time Isnatched you out of that crude, half-barbarous life. And a thirdperson's happiness is at stake."
Laverne shivered. A sudden light broke in upon her. She had halffancied that she had been used as a sort of blind that her mothermight enjoy Lord Westbury's society, but if it should be----
"What an odd girl you are, not a bit curious? So I must put my storyin plain terms."
It was embellished. In business statements Mrs. Westbury could come tothe point quickly, but she did somehow dread this a little, for shebegan to mistrust the girl she had fancied would be easily convinced.She went briefly over the commercial side, and suggested this had beendone because Lord Wrexford had taken a great fancy to her the firstevening he had met her at the Thorleys. For her sake and for heradvantage her father had rescued Wrexford Grange. Any girl would beproud of such an opportunity. Lord Wrexford was getting impatient, anddesired to make his proposal, though the marriage woul
d not be hurriedunduly.
"I saw you were not dreaming of such a thing, and your father thoughtI had better prepare you a little. Think, Laverne, a simple Americangirl becoming Lady Wrexford!"
Laverne threw herself at Mrs. Westbury's feet, and buried her face onthe elder's lap, shuddering in every limb.
"Oh, I cannot! I cannot!" she cried passionately. "No, do not ask me.I cannot love him, he does not love me. Why, it is like beingsold----"
"Hush, you silly girl. There is no being sold about it. He has askedfor your hand honorably. It is a chance out of a thousand. Any girlwould jump at it. Your father put his money in the Grange for you, andyou will be a most ungrateful daughter not to accede to his wishes.When you have made up your mind you will find Lord Wrexford mostagreeable. It can be a late spring marriage, and you really will bethe envy of many a high-born girl when you step among them. You can bepresented at the last drawing room, Lady Wrexford! Why, you would beworse than an idiot to refuse it."
Laverne rose. "No, I cannot--I cannot," shuddering.
"Your father will have his say to-morrow. There, no words. You can goto your room, and resolve that you will pay due respect to yourfather. You are under age."
She was glad to go. Oh, yes, she had been blind. For the last monthLord Wrexford had really been _their_ devoted admirer. Most of hisconversation had been addressed to Mrs. Westbury. Yet he had watchedher closely, she recalled that now. He had shown a delicate solicitudein many things. Oh, could it be possible that he really cared for her!That would make it so much harder. And how could she meet her father,how defy him! Yes, she was really afraid of him. Oh, if he would onlybe angry and send her back to California!
She opened the window as if she could look across to the old home. Thefog was absolute blackness, chilling, penetrating every nerve. Sheshut it down again, but the breath of it seemed to strangle her. Shedid not cry, her terror and dread were too deep for tears.
She would hear him come home presently, his full, strong voice, andthey would talk it over. So she listened and listened. The clocksinside struck midnight, then the small hours. Would she never get tosleep!
Somewhere toward dawn there was a sharp clang of the bell, and strangevoices. Then hurried steps up and down, Mrs. Westbury giving a shriek,crying out confusedly, calling the maid, going downstairs, then acarriage driving away, and the servants still talking. She opened herdoor.
"Oh, what is it, what is it?" she asked.
"We were not to disturb you, Miss Laverne."
"But I was awake. I heard--has Mrs. Westbury gone away? Oh, didsomething happen to father?"
"Yes, Miss. He was hurt, knocked down somehow, and taken to thehospital. But I guess it will all be right. It's natural he would wantMrs. Westbury."
Laverne threw herself down on the bed, shocked. One would never thinkof associating death with that active, robust physique. Oh, no, itwould not be that, only some hurt. And if he should be ill and askthis great sacrifice of her!
There was no word the next morning. The butler had even forgotten toinquire what was the name of the hospital. Laverne did not want anybreakfast, she wandered from room to room, she sat down at the pianoand played a few melancholy tunes. How hard the uncertainty was! Hervery fingers grew nerveless.
At noon Lord Wrexford came. He was so gentle and sympathetic that herheart almost went out to him. He told the story with a tender gravity.Whether in the dense fog Mr. Westbury had missed his carriage orslipped and fallen no one knew. An oncoming horse had stepped on him,and the injury was severe. There had been an operation----
"But he will not die! He cannot die! He is so strong--Oh, surely,surely----" and her voice broke.
"My dear child, we must wait and see. I am going back. Mrs. Westburywill stay----"
He had not the courage to say that a few hours would end it all. Theyoung, grief-stricken face touched his heart. Yes, he would make her agood, kind husband. If he were free to choose he would not select herfrom all the women he knew, but now the marriage would be imperative,and he would do his best.
That evening he brought Mrs. Westbury home. She would not see Laverne,but went at once to her room. He told the child the story as far asany one could learn the particulars. A horse's hoof had injured theskull, crushed it in so that there was only a very faint hope from thefirst, but he worded it delicately, and stayed in the library all day,receiving the body when it came, seeing various people, and having oneinterview with Mrs. Westbury. After that she sent for Laverne, andthey wept together in each other's arms. Laverne thought she must haveloved him, she was so shocked by his fate.
It was a distressing occurrence to all his friends, and he had wonmany. Beside there was the great question of what the two companieswere to do without the working head. Lord Wrexford proved himselfinvaluable through these troublous days.
A sad Easter it was. The Doncasters and others brought their warmestsympathy. Victor Savedra came, and the pale girl in her deep mourningwent at once to the heart that had thought of her daily and kepttryst. Ah, how should she tell him that since that fatal night she hadnot! For now she began to understand the great reason why she couldnever come to care for Lord Wrexford. He had not asked her to marryhim, but somehow he had taken a lover's authority.
Mrs. Westbury had many subjects to revolve in her mind, and wasalarmed at first lest matters might go wrong. So she accepted andacted upon the fact that Lord Wrexford should be her son-in-law. Shewould not give up the chance of this connection with nobility. BesidesLord Wrexford was necessary.
Affairs were found in excellent order, and Mr. Westbury gained in theesteem of the directors. But now the company must assume theresponsibility.
The new method of separating ore had been patented in both countries,and was invaluable. Lord Wrexford, it was assumed, had been a kind ofconfidential secretary and his knowledge must be devoted to thecompany. Mrs. Westbury had large interests, he was made her agent atonce.
Now, it was found that he had willed everything to his wife, who wasto make such settlements on his daughter as she considered best. Andshe held the right to Wrexford Grange.
She demanded the utmost affection and sympathy from Laverne.
"Of course, you cannot understand all that he was to me. Marriageinterprets one to the other. And you have only known him such a briefwhile. Then, I think these placid natures cannot love and suffer likethe more intense ones. The shock has nearly killed me. Oh, do comfortme! You are all I have left."
Laverne tried earnestly. But she noted that she quickly overcame aparoxysm of grief when Lord Wrexford or the lawyer came, and couldspend hours over the business.
"Of course," she said, a few weeks afterward, "the marriage must beput off a while, but it is more necessary than ever. Your father feltyou were too young to be made independent. The Grange was to be yourdowry on your wedding day--to you and your children. The marriage canbe rather a quiet one, and in six months, under the circumstances, youcan lay your mourning aside. Meanwhile we may be considering thetrousseau. We can go to Paris----"
Laverne threw herself at her stepmother's feet, and clasped her handsin entreaty. "Oh, do not, do not compel me," she cried, in anguish. "Ido not care for the Grange nor the money. If you will only send meback to America----"
"I shall not send you back. I am your natural, lawful guardian now. Ishall do what I consider best for you, and in the years to come youwill thank me for it. There, we will have no discussion."
What should she do? A dozen plans came and went through her brain. Sheremembered how Carmen Estenega had run away from a hateful marriage.But she had an ardent lover. This would be such a long journey, andshe would have no friends on the way. Should she appeal to Victor? Oh,no, she could not. Yet she had a consciousness that he would respondat once.
She was coming to have a strange fear of Mrs. Westbury, as if shemight dominate all her life. Surely she would if this marriage shouldtake place. Oh, it could not. She would not consent even at the lastmoment. No one was forced to marry. Ah, wou
ld not Carmen have beenforced?
Lord Wrexford came and went. There were visits from lawyers anddirectors, and calls of condolence. A certain kind of peace, but itseemed like an armed truce. And Laverne realized more thoroughly everyday that there had never been any true and tender love for her in Mrs.Westbury's heart. She was older now, and could see more clearly, hadmore discrimination, yet she did wonder why her father's wife had beenso exigent. She could not understand the vanity, the selfish desirefor the admiration of this young soul. And she also saw that Mrs.Westbury sought her own advantage in this marriage. To be allied tothe higher orders, to be the mother-in-law to Lord Wrexford, to havethe entree into the charmed circles. How had she grown so wise!
She thought of her father with infinite pity, that he should have beenwrenched out of the life he enjoyed so much. She felt that he hadnever truly loved her, and that she had not succeeded in loving him.Always her heart was turning back to Uncle Jason. Yes, that was thesweet, tender, and true life, finer and nobler than this striving andsubterfuge, this greediness for wealth and high places.
Lord Wrexford came one afternoon, quite a custom with him now. Mrs.Westbury had been sent for to some important meeting. He walked inwith the easy familiarity that characterized him, and passed a fewpleasant conventionalities. How many times she had thought if shecould see him alone, and now that the opportunity had come shetrembled with a certain kind of fear and shame. What could she say toa man who had not yet asked her to marry him?
He began to perceive that she was unduly excited. The color waveringover her face and the quivering lips touched him. He was not aheartless man, and every day he was feeling this was more of a dilemmafor him.
"My child," he began, rather blunderingly, realizing all the yearsbetween them, and then he saw that her eyes were overflowing.
"Lord Wrexford," she tried to steady her voice, but it tremblednoticeably, "I believe I have been offered to you as--as--anequivalent----"
"No, don't put it that way," he interrupted quickly. "Your father wasvery honorable."
"I do not know much about marriage, but it seems as if----"
"As if youth and love should go hand in hand? Middle age and money maymake a dicker. But if there were love, or if the title won you in anydegree," and he knew there were some who would have been won even bypoverty and a title with the background of the Grange.
"I do not love you," she said simply. "It seems ungrateful when youhave been both kind and patient. Indeed, I have been trying----" Therewas such a wistful cadence to her tremulous voice that it touched him,man of the world as he was. The slow tears dropped from her lashes,but she could not raise her eyes, though there was entreaty in everyline of her slight figure, even in the limp hands that hung by herside.
"And a love that is forced is no love at all. But you must realize thesacrifice you will make, and consider. It will be more than giving upa title. Everything is in your mother's hands----"
"Oh, I have told her that I do not care for the money. I remembered solittle of papa that he seemed an utter stranger to me, and--some onehad loved and adopted me before. She knows I wish to go back home----"
Her voice faltered and broke.
"You are a brave little girl," he exclaimed admiringly. "An honest andtrue one, and you deserve to be happy, to love some one who has loveand youth to give in return." Did she know such a one? "I think youare not taking root here."
"You know mamma is not any real relation," she began as if in apology."She has been very kind and indulgent to me. I would like to pleaseher. But, oh, I would so much rather have been left in San Francisco.My dear uncle would not have gone away. We should have been poor, forhe had just lost everything in a dreadful fire, but I wouldn't haveminded----"
"My dear child, you shall not be sacrificed." He wanted to take thedrooping figure in his arms, and kiss away the tears that rolledsilently over the softly rounded cheeks. She looked so fragile in herblack frock. If she could be his little sister! But he had nothing todower her with, he would even lose the Grange himself. But he said,"Do not give yourself any further uneasiness, I will see Mrs.Westbury."
"Oh, thank you a thousand times!" She did not know how adorably herface lighted up. Yes, if she had loved him it might have done. And ifthe race of Wrexford died out with him what matter?
Laverne felt so much more friendly toward him that she could not helpshowing it. Mrs. Westbury hailed this with delight.
"Have you asked, and has she accepted?" she inquired one afternoonwhen they were alone.
It was a warm day, and she defied custom sufficiently to lay asideheavy crapes indoors. Her gown was of some thin black stuff, trailingand cloud-like. Her arms, that were well shaped, showed through intheir whiteness, and she often used them in a caressing sort ofmanner. Her throat had the delicate prettiness of art, and she lookedreally younger in this half simplicity. The fragrance and quiet of theroom seemed to be a perfect setting for her, and it made hersuggestive, attractive to the verge of fascination.
"Neither," he said, drawing nearer. "We understand each other. Whenthe time comes, a year hence or less, perhaps, I am going to ask youto accept the title to Wrexford Grange. It will suit me worldsbetter. I have outgrown the bread and butter period."
She was very little rouged, and a color flushed up in her face. Shehad cultivated the trick of this. She was versed in men's meanings andknew this was no idle compliment. But she was surprised.
"Yes, a year or so," in a slow charming manner with becominghesitation.
"Meanwhile be good to the poor little thing."
"Since you plead for her. I confess I have been somewhat disappointedin her. Perhaps no child can be quite like your own. She wants to goback to America--shall I send her?"
She did not care for a daughter now. As Lady Wrexford she would ratherhave all the homage. The girl had been useful. There are people whocan drop one easily when no longer needed. Laverne Westbury was toohonest to be a comfortable companion. And then--what if Lord Wrexfordshould come to consider a younger wife preferable? Men _did_ change inmany of their views, she had learned by experience.
In a way she had loved David Westbury. He was fond of caresses, butshe had never tired him of them. She was proud of his successes, yetshe had a conviction that it was her money that had been the keynoteof prosperity. He was one of the men who dropped an unsuccess verysoon, and did not spend his energies fighting his way through. For thefirst weeks she had been crushed by the loss, and this she said toherself was because of her deep love for him. When she found thataffairs were in a good shape, that she was a rich woman, to beconsulted by the directors, that she still held many things in herhands, and that she would have still more prestige by being themother-in-law of a lord, who had about sown all his wild oats, andfound the crop unprofitable; Laverne was of use to her. And now with abetter understanding the child had become something of a trial. Shewas no longer a half-blind worshipper.
"What friends has she there?" he asked after some consideration.
"Oh, I suppose the man who adopted her is somewhere--he was a lover ofher own mother. And there was another family connected with theSavedras--why, there _is_ the young man. I half suspected he was arival about Christmas time. And I'm not sure now----"
"He was here at the Easter holidays. Well, that would be moreappropriate. May and December, you know," with a vague smile.
"You have a long later summer and autumn before you reach December,"and she raised her eyes with a look of appreciation, and thatadmiration which always touches a man's vanity. "I will not have yougrowing old too fast. And I think almost any young girl would fall inlove with you, unless there was some prior claim. Perhaps there was."
"He returns home in July. Well, why not give him the opportunity?"smiling softly.
She looked undecided.
"At least give her a choice. I _do_ admire her sincerely. Many girlswould not have refused a title."
She knew that. And Laverne's refusal was going to bring her the bestof good fort
une. So she could afford to pardon her highconscientiousness.
"I will have a talk with her. If we cannot make her happy here, and Ithink she is not suited to this sort of life, it would be cruel tokeep her."
The reluctance betokened some affection on Mrs. Westbury's part, hethought, though he could not divine the secret joy this new aspect hadbrought her. She was not desirous of sharing her right in him withanybody.
Laverne waited in a state of tremulous fear and expectation. Mrs.Westbury was quietly gracious at dinner. Afterward they retired to thelibrary.
"Lord Wrexford came to me this afternoon when you had dismissed him,"she began rather severely.
She did not mean to be too lenient with the girl.
"You have been most foolish and short-sighted," she said. "And knowingthat it was your father's dearest wish, his plan for a splendidfuture. The money he put in Wrexford Grange was for you. He would nothave risked his money merely for the young man."
"I--I couldn't have married him. Oh, you do not understand----"
"You are a little fool. I suppose that young Savedra stood in theway?"
Laverne was silent. She was glad she had her scarlet face turned away.
"You pride yourself on truthfulness and honor, yet you have beenunderhand and deceitful. You have carried on an intrigue with a loverwhile you assumed a sort of ultra conscientiousness toward LordWrexford----"
Laverne rose and came forward in the light. Now she was very pale, buther face wore a high, serene expression.
"You accuse me unjustly, Mrs. Westbury," she began with quiet dignity,that awed the older woman. "I have carried on no intrigue. No word oflove has been uttered between us. He has not asked me anything thatyou and Lord Wrexford might not hear. He wrote me a letter ofcondolence--if you would like you can see it. It called for no answer.We had been friends since childhood. The home at Oaklands was like asecond home to me. If Victor Savedra had been engaged to Amy DoncasterI should have felt just the same toward Lord Wrexford. Oh, I think heunderstands it better than you do."
"You needn't be so tragic about it. I _am_ disappointed in you. Ihoped to have a daughter who would love me tenderly, sincerely. If Ihad been opposed to the plan, your father would have left you there inthat wild land among barbarians, who do not know what to do with theirgold, when they have dug it out of the ground."
No, it was not for any real love for her, she had known that this longwhile. And now she understood that she and her stepmother were onlines that were too dissimilar for friendship even. She was an alienand a stranger, she would drift farther and farther away.
"You seem to have made up your mind that you cannot be happy here,that my regard is worth very little. Matters have changed with mesomewhat. I shall not keep this house, I must get away from theremembrance that my dear husband has lain dead in it, after the awfultragedy. And if you have any choice----"
"Oh, I have, I have! Send me back home, that is all I ask. And--I donot want the money. My father's wish that you should have it all wasright enough. You see, I never seemed like a real child to him. I donot think he cared much for my mother. Yes, let me go----"
The voice with its pathos did pierce Agnes Westbury's heart, but therewere so many motives ranged on the other side, and she persuadedherself that the child really had been ungrateful and was incapable ofany ardent or sustained feeling. It would be much better for them topart.
"I will consider," she said languidly. "Now go, I have a headache, andthese scenes are too much for me in my weak and excited state. I havehad so much sorrow to bear."
"Good-night," Laverne said. She did not offer the kiss that after ithad failed to be tenderness, remained a perfunctory duty, but now hadceased to be even that.
"Good-night, to you. Mine will be wretched enough, they always are."
But after a few moments' thought, and when Laverne had dismissed themaid on the upper landing, she stepped briskly over to the desk,turned up the light, and wrote a letter to Victor Savedra.
Fate or Providence had played into her hands always. She would be verydecorous and observe the strictest propriety, but she counted up themonths that must elapse before she could be Lady Wrexford. She had herlover in her own hands.
CHAPTER XX
AN ENCHANTED JOURNEY
Was it a happy dream Laverne Savedra kept asking herself, out on thebroad ocean with no land in sight and the great vault overhead, thatby night filled up with myriads of stars, that by day was a greatunknown country over which other ships went drifting to ports beyondmortal ken. It was a much longer journey then, but going round theworld would not have been too long for all the confidences she and herhusband 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 andfears, the whisper he had heard that she was likely to marry LordWrexford, and that he found he had loved her since that first eveningthey had danced together. And when he heard that, he felt he had noright to keep a tryst with her in the twilight, but still he could notput her out of his thoughts. And to him Lord Wrexford seemed quite amiddle-aged man, and he wondered if the Grange, said to be one of thefine old estates in that shire, had won her with perhaps thepersuasion of her parents. Then her father's sudden and terrible deathhad deterred him from a wild dream of coming to press his claim, forhe was not sure her regard was more than a childish preference. Andhe, too, had been brought up to respect parental authority. Then,there were so many regulations in English society that he feared totransgress, and he was desperately busy with examination papers, andnow all that trouble was ended, and he should rejoice his father'sheart by his degrees. But there never would be any place to him likehis beloved California, so rich in treasures of the God-sent kind, ifshe could not boast great universities and picture galleries andlibraries. They would all come in time.
Mrs. Westbury had insisted upon one condition. He was to destroy herletter and never make any mention of it. For Laverne, with her ultradelicate notions, might resent being offered to another lover. He wasto come as any friend might and learn for himself.
She had thought of the difficulty of sending the child on such a longjourney with only a maid. It was not merely crossing the ocean--forthen there was no cable and even telegraph communications were apt tobe interrupted. But if she could be really married and in a husband'scare, the way would be clear.
Victor Savedra had hesitated a little. They would hardly fail toaccord Laverne a warm welcome; but when his father had been soindulgent to him, to take such an important step without hisknowledge! But there was no other course.
"I'll give you a generous trousseau, Laverne," she said, "but yourfather's property is so tied up in stocks and various things that Ihardly know where to turn for money for myself."
"Oh, please do not think about the money. I am glad you are notdispleased about--about----" and she colored deeply. "Indeed, I neverthought 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 sodecided, and I must say, he took it in a very gentlemanly manner. Itmight have cost me my friend, even, and I should hardly have knownwhat to do. He has been most kind and useful."
"I do not think he really loved me," Laverne answered, with somespirit.
"The acquaintance had hardly been long enough for that. And a man athis time of life has lost the impetuosity of youth," the elderreturned rather dryly.
Laverne had made one protest about the marriage. She wanted to seeUncle Jason first. In a way she belonged to him. If he were poor andunfortunate he would need her so much the more.
"But you see you could not search for him alone. We will both try tofind him. And I think he is dearer than your father was. I alwaysliked 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 anunattended woman, it would be the remainder of the journey, and thatwould prove simply impossible. But Mrs. Westbury was determined tohave some reflected distinction in her stepdaughter. This marriage hadan aureole of romance about it. She could wash her hands of Lavernein a very satisfactory manner.
So it was a very pretty wedding in church, with the Doncaster girlsfor bridesmaids and a quiet reception to say farewell to friends asthey were to sail on the morrow. Mrs. Westbury was modest in her whitecrepe dress with the plainest of adornment. The bride was charming,the groom a proud and handsome young fellow. Lord Wrexford bestowedupon her a handsome necklace of pearls and gave her the best ofwishes. 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 wasa good judge of such articles, and would have the best or none. And intimes of prosperity he was most generous. Of course, he had not alwaysbeen as successful as during these last few years."
The parting was very amicable, tender, indeed, with the hope thatLaverne and her husband would find their way abroad again. It washardly likely _she_ would ever visit America.
They began their new life as lovers indeed, but the hopes of both werecentred in the old place where they had first met. Dozens of freshrecollections came to light every day. His memory went back fartherthan hers, and now they said "Old San Francisco." He wondered how muchit had changed in the four years, and she supposed Telegraph Hill hadbeen cut down still more. Probably the old house was no more. Pelajohad been sent over to Oaklands--would he be alive? And had thesquirrels 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 greattraveller, but she thought then these two journeys were enough tosatisfy any one.
And at last the Golden Gate came in view. Oh, had it ever been sogrand and imposing before! Here was the rocky frowning coast line withits few breaks. The sun was not shining, but the soft, low cloudsfloating in silvery gray, turning to mauve with here and there a highlight just edging them, gave the gray brown rocks all manner ofindescribable 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 sideof their wings matching the prevailing tint. And nothing screamed, orcried, or disputed. Clusters were settled sleepily in the recesses ofthe rocks. And way up above they could see Mount Tamalpais with valesand woods and great sandheaps between, and here was Sausalito, PointBonito, Point Lobos, as they entered in. They had reached the PromisedLand. Laverne glanced up with eyes full of tears. The joy was too deepfor words.
Here were streets running out to the newly begun sea wall. Here werenew piers, the Old Fisherman's Pier made over. Why, Telegraph Hill hadstepped from its lofty estate, though there were still some terracesleft, some houses perched up high with winding paths. Streetsstraightened down to Market Street, which seemed to cut the citydiagonally in two. The old islands, the opposite shores, the townsthat had sprung up. How strange and yet how familiar. But now goingand returning was such an ordinary occurrence that there were no greatcrowds to welcome travellers. And every one seemed so intent uponbusiness that it almost confused Laverne.
There were three who came to greet them. Mr. Savedra, Miss Holmes, andElena, a tall girl now, with flashing black eyes, a saucy scarletmouth, and brilliant complexion. And Miss Holmes was no longer young,to Laverne's surprise, who had always held her in mind as she hadappeared on that first voyage, and who had never noted any change inher when she saw her day by day.
Victor had apprised his father of his marriage and Laverne foundherself tenderly welcomed, as a foretaste of what was awaiting her onthe opposite side of the bay. So a little of the luggage wascollected, to follow them the next day, and they left the fine, newmail ship for the ferry boat. The same old diversity of people thatlooked strange now to the young girl. And the whirl, the bustle, theconfusion of tongues, the jostling of rough and refined, how queer itseemed.
"You have hardly changed," Miss Holmes said when she had studied herfor some time.
"Haven't I?" with the old girlish smile. "Sometimes I feel as if I hadlived a hundred years in these two. Oh, I shall have so much to tellyou."
And yet she had an oddly pretty air and self-possession of wifehoodgained in these months when the world of travel had held only eachother, when every day had brought new revelations.
The remainder of the family were out on the porch with open arms andkisses that it was worth crossing the ocean to win. For it was earlyspring again, with everything a vision of beauty, though they had leftmidwinter behind somewhere. Oh, the fragrance in the air, had she everbreathed anything so delicious since she said good-by to the oldplace!
They were very glad to have her, if the marriage had been out of theusual order. Isola had a mind to be quite jealous of Victor, and thatamused him greatly. She had improved a great deal under Miss Holmes'sensible care and training, and had an exalted, spiritual kind ofgrace and expression. Laverne felt as if she had gone into a newworld, and the atmosphere was enchanting.
There was so much to say that midnight came before they had half saidit. And it was not until the next day she had the courage to inquireif 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 tohim, 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 abouther and drew her close. "Jason Chadsey's love for you is one of therare affections seldom met with. You know we were all surprised tolearn that you were no kin to him. But your mother did wisely when shebequeathed you to him."
"Oh, you have heard, you know----" she interrupted vehemently. "He isliving. I--we," coloring, "must go and find him. He was more than afather 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 monthsago I was surprised when he entered my office. At first I could notplace him. But his voice and his eyes recalled him. He had gonethrough a variety of adventures. He admitted that he had been eager toget away from the town and forget his losses, though friends wouldhave been ready enough to help him in business again. He wandered upto British Columbia, and all the land between he thinks marvellous inits capabilities. It is like a romance to hear him talk. Then he camedown again, sometimes trying the wilds and forests, and at lastreturning to an old resolve that had taken possession of him before hesaw you--to go to the gold fields. And thither he found his way aboutsix months ago. At first he was not much prepossessed. It seemed as ifeverything worth while had been claimed. Then he fell in with a pooryoung man dying with consumption, whose claim had been very promisingin the beginning, but some way had failed, but he had not lost faithin it from certain scientific indications. They worked together for awhile. This Jarvis, it seems, had been at the School of Mines in NewYork. But at the last he went very rapidly, and bequeathed his claimto your uncle. A week after he had buried the poor fellow he unearthedthe secret again, and it was just as he was about to give it up. Hemade no comment, but worked steadily, burying his gold every nightinstead 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 ofgold nuggets hidden about his person. Upon assaying, they turned outfirst-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. Hehad the utmost confidence that you would return to him when you wereof age----"
"Oh, poor, dear Uncle Jason! His life has been devoted to me! But hemust not take all this toil and trouble. I do not care for thefortune. 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 coursethen. I understand how he felt about it."
"And now I must go to him at once----" raising her lovely eyes, fullof 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," hereturned, with gentle firmness.
"But, I cannot wait. Why, I could fly to him," and she looked in herbeautiful 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 morerapidly, put up with hardships. Neither can we lose you, when we havehardly seen you. Think how patiently he is waiting, almost two yearsmore, he believes."
Laverne did yield to persuasion at length. For that matter not halfthe experiences had been told over. They were all so glad to have herthat she felt it would be ungracious not to be joyous and happy. Elenawanted to hear about London. Yes, she had seen the Queen and some ofthe princesses, but she had not been presented.
"She would have been, as Lady Wrexford," said Victor laughingly. "Andyou can't think all that a title counts for there. I wonder she wasn'ttempted. 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 verymuch under her careful training, though her soul's desire was stillimprovising.
"Oh, how you would be admired in London," Laverne criedenthusiastically. "Such a gift is really wonderful. Why some one oughtto write it down."
"Professor Gerhart has tried some things. But you see I never playthem twice quite alike, and that bothers. I want to turn this way andthat," 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 wouldhardly credit the changes if he were told."
There were streets now running out to Islais Creek, where the marshwas being filled up. And the queer little corner, where the streetsran a block or two in every direction by Channel Creek, still heldsome adobe houses. Some day the Southern Pacific Railroad would runalong here and build its immense freight houses and stations. MarketStreet was creeping along. Sandhills had been toppled over intodepressions. Great buildings had been reared. Kearny Street wasrunning up over Telegraph Hill. The lower end was given over tohandsome stores, that displayed goods which could stand comparisonwith any other city.
Telegraph Hill was to be lowered, even after this revolution, that hadleft the topmost crest fifty or sixty feet above sea level. It had arather curious aspect now. Some of the quaint old houses had beenlowered, and smart new ones formed a striking contrast. A few scrubbyoaks, firmly rooted, had defied removal, it would seem, and were leftin sandy backyards. The beautiful pine was gone, the old house had notbeen worth any trouble, and so had shared destruction.
"I can't make it seem real," Laverne said piteously, with tears in hereyes. "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 newPresbyterian Church, where she had seen the old one burn down. Andhere was Saint Mary's, with its fine spire still unfinished. TheMission on Vallejo Street, and St. Patrick's in Happy Valley, and thefine school of Mission de Dolores, they had all improved, though shefound some familiar features.
And the little nucleus of China Town had spread out. While the oldCalifornian and the Spaniard relinquished the distinguishing featuresof the attire, the Chinaman in his blue shirt, full trousers, whitestockings, and pointed toes set way above the soles, and the blackpigtail wound about his head, looked just as she had seen them in herchildhood, and they had not grown appreciably older, or had theyalways been old?
Mr. Dawson had died, and his wife had retired to a handsome privatedwelling, and kept her carriage. The Folsom House was much grander,and Dick, a "young blood," whom girls were striving in vain tocaptivate. Mrs. Folsom wanted to hear about her father's death, and ifher stepmother had lived up to her promises.
"I do suppose your father died a rich man. Or, did it all take wingsand 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, thatshe should take such a fancy to you and insist upon having you, forsecond wives' fancies don't often run that way. I had an idea shewould marry you to some lord, with all the money, they expected tohave. And here you've married that Mr. Savedra and come back. Does anyone 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. Fireshave 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 oftents still, and such shanties, and now great four-story bricks andstone, and banks and business places. One would hardly believe it ifhe had not seen it."
Mr. Personette was in a large real estate business, and even yet washardly reconciled that Howard had not gone into the law. But he wasvery well satisfied with what he called "real business."
Mrs. Personette was stout and rosy, and had been made a grandmothertwice. Miss Gaines had taken a husband, though she still kept up avery stylish establishment. Sometimes the three old friends met andtalked over their adventures.
Laverne was very happy and added a great charm to the household. Elenawould have had her talk continually about her life abroad.
"Why do you not make Victor describe some of the places where _he_ hasbeen? Every summer he took a journey away," she said, rather amused.
"He talks about places. You always put in the people, and they aremore interesting."
Jason Chadsey was startled by this message. His little girl reallyhere--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. NorcrossGulch was about deserted. Better mining had been found up on a littlestream emptying into the Sacramento. Cabins had mostly been carriedoff, shacks had fallen down. Certainly, nothing could look more drearythan a deserted mining region. But in a month or two another hordewould doubtless invade it.
He came in town and "spruced up," in his old Maine vernacular, wastrimmed as to beard and hair, and purchased a suit of new clothes. Hislittle girl! He ought to take some great treasure to her. What if shewere changed; but no, they would love each other to the very end oflife. He had sent her away in that desperate time, but no, he couldnot 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, comingback 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 hadsoothed her mother in those last sad days. And she confessed to himmuch that she had not even told Victor; how, by degrees, she hadlearned the hollowness of the lavish professions that had put on thesemblance of love as the present whim had swayed Mrs. Westbury, and,at the last, she had been really relieved to dismiss her, because shecould not bend her to her desires. For even Laverne had not suspectedher of aiming at the title for herself.
"And she takes everything!" he said indignantly. "He was concernedwith a company that will make some tremendous fortunes inquicksilver--an English company. And it is said that he managed byunderhand ways to get possession of the tract while he was here. Theyhave just sent out a new agent, and that you, his only child, shouldhave no part nor lot in this!"
"Oh, don't mind," she cried, "I would rather belong to you in povertythan to live with them in luxury. It was dreadful to have him die thatway; he was so fond of life, and busine
ss, and plans. It makes me feelquite free not to be under any obligation to them. And I do not careabout the money. I would a hundred times rather have stayed with youand 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 wasa little restless and would go back. He had not secured all the GoldenFleece, he declared, and he must live up to his name. But he would seethem often now. To himself he said, he must get used to sharing hislittle girl's heart with another, and, since it must be, he wouldrather have it Victor than a stranger.
They were all very happy at the Savedras. The house was large, andthey gave them room and the heartiest of welcomes. And there was roomin the rapidly growing town, and need for young men of culture andintegrity and all the earnest purposes of life that mould men intofine 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, andthe loss of human lives. California took her share bravely. Gold minesmissed the rapid influx, the city had to call a halt in improvements.But a great interest in agriculture was awakened, and now theyunderstood that this might be the most bountiful garden spot of theworld.
Through this time of anguish to many, Laverne Savedra felt that shehad been singled out for good fortune and some of the choicestblessings of life. Her little son was born, and to none did it givegreater joy than to Jason Chadsey. He kept at his lode with varyingfortunes, and at length struck his aim in a splendid nugget that for awhile was the town's marvel. Now the place swarmed again, and he wasoffered a fabulous price for his claim. He listened at length to hisearnest advisers, and retired from the field. For, though he was notan old man, he had borne much of the heat and burden of life, and wona 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 wifeand three babies, bright rosy children, and she with content writtenin every line of her face. He had a cargo of valuables consigned toseveral San Francisco firms, and they were overjoyed to meet oldfriends. 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 itdid upbraid her dreadful disobedience. After that matters softened.The old Papa Estenega died, and, though there were still some distantcousins, he left the estate to those who had cared for him in his lastdays. Juana had married well, and Anesta had a nice lover. She was togo to Monterey to see them all as soon as Captain Hudson could bespared.
And then, the last spike in the line that united California with theEast, was driven by Leland Stanford in May, 1869. Railroads were beingbuilt elsewhere, but this was the dream and desire of the Old SanFrancisco that had almost passed away.
But nothing could take away the beautiful Bay and the Golden Gate, theentrance to the golden land that had been the dream of centuries.
Afterward they did go round the world. Some of the old ports hadchanged greatly. Some just as Jason Chadsey had seen them thirty ormore years agone. And there was wonderful Japan, which was some dayto startle the world with its marvellous capacities. Strange India,with its old gods and old beliefs; Arabia, the Holy Land, with itsmany vicissitudes; great, barbarous Russia, Germany, the conqueror,and the beautiful Eugenie a sorrowful widow.
In Europe, Isola Savedra joined them, and did make a name as aremarkable improvisatrice. She did not court publicity, but the highercircles of music were really enchanted with her marvellous gift, andinvitations came from crowned heads to play at palaces.
Lady Wrexford had achieved most of her ambitions, and was a socialsuccess. 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 andthe ocean-fretted rocks on the other. Is this old Market Street, andthis Montgomery, with its splendid buildings? Whole blocks taken up byspacious hotels. California Street, with its palaces; Kearny Street,with its glittering stores and throngs of handsome shoppers orpromenaders--everywhere a marvellous city.
But the old "Forty-niners" are gone, the Mexican in his serape andsombrero, the picturesque Californian on horseback, and nearly all thewandering Indians. Tents and shacks and two-roomed adobe houses havedisappeared before the march of improvement.
The Savedras are prosperous and happy, and have a lovely home out ofthe turmoil and confusion, where beautiful nature reigns supreme. Andan old, white-haired man, rather bent in the shoulders, tells a groupof pretty, joyous children about the Old San Francisco of half acentury before, and the long search of Jason after the Golden Fleeceand the little girl that he loved so well. They go up Telegraph Hilland 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 andsquirrels, and here that Bruno killed the cruel fox?" It is morewonderful 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.
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