CHAPTER XXIX.--_Hasty Decisions Repented Leisurely._
When Victoriano had left Everett at his front door, exacting the promisethat he would come to breakfast with Clarence next morning, he merelydelayed long enough to learn that Alice was quiet, and Mrs. Darrellthought that with a night's rest she would be well next day. He thendrove back home, and thinking that Clarence was going to stay, left thephaeton at the front gate to run down through the side gate to Mrs.Mechlin's, to call his mother and say to her that Clarence had been sentoff by his father, and had come to their house to pass the night. But ashe hurried through the front garden, Victoriano remembered that thehorses had to be put in the stable and taken care of, so he went in thekitchen to tell a servant he must attend to the horses immediately.
"Yes, _patroncito_, I'll do it right away," said the lazy Indian, whofirst had to stretch himself and yawn several times, then hunt uptobacco and cigarette paper, and smoke his cigarette. This done, he,having had a heavy supper, shuffled lazily to the front of the house, asClarence was driving down the hill for the second time, and Dona Josefaand Victoriano returning from Mrs. Mechlin, came in through the gardenside gate.
"Who is going in that carriage?" was the first question put byVictoriano to Madame Halier.
"It is Monsieur Clarence."
"And where is Mercedes?"
"She called you to go to Madame Mechlin's."
"No such thing," said Victoriano, going to look in the parlor; returningimmediately to renew his questions.
But the madame could do no more than repeat all she knew, which waslittle enough, and that little thoroughly mixed in her mind.
All that Victoriano and Dona Josefa could ascertain, with someclearness, was that Clarence was going, and had come back, thinking thatMercedes had called him, but that on being told that Mercedes had calledTano to accompany her to Mrs. Mechlin's, he had gone away.
"I must overtake Clarence. There is some misunderstanding here, that isplain," said Victoriano, going to the back piazza to call a servant.
This time Chapo came a little quicker, not knowing whether he would beto blame, because the _Americano_ went off with his horses before he hadtime to put them in the stable.
"Bring me my bay horse, saddled, in two minutes, do you hear? Twominutes--not two hours--go quick."
"We cannot find Mercita. She is not in the house," said Dona Josefa toher son, much alarmed.
"She must be, mother. Call the other girls. Look again for her. I mustrun after Clarence, and learn why he is going, instead of passing thenight here."
Fifteen minutes after Clarence had left, Victoriano was galloping behindhim, wondering why he could not see him anywhere on the road.
Madame Halier and Dona Josefa continued looking for Mercedes mostanxiously, but in vain. George now came up, and joined in the search forthe missing girl.
As Victoriano crossed the brook and ascended the hill beyond it, DonMariano and Gabriel came up into the court-yard. They immediatelyhurried into the house, Don Mariano knowing that Mercedes would beanxious for him to talk with Clarence.
Dona Josefa and the madame met them at the door, and related as well asthey knew all that had occurred. They all agreed that the matter hadbetter be kept from the servants, if possible, and they all went out bythe front gate again, since it was useless to search in the direction ofMrs. Mechlin's house. Don Mariano and Gabriel saw George follow the pathto the right and disappear. They followed him. George had heard thebarking of a dog in the distance, and at first paid no attention to it,but when the barking would be followed by most piteous howls, helistened, and thought he recognized the plaintive whining of Milord. Hefollowed the path, and as he did so, came nearer to the barking, andsoon after Milord himself met him, with demonstrations of greatsatisfaction.
George had no doubt now of finding Mercedes. He let Milord be the guide,and run ahead, he following. In a few minutes he saw something white onthe ground, and immediately after recognized Mercedes' form lyingmotionless across the path, as she had fallen. In a moment George hadlifted her insensible form in his arms, calling out he had found her.
Don Mariano ran to him, but Gabriel, being more active, passed him, andwas quickly at George's side, gazing anxiously at his sister's face.
"Give her to me, George," said Don Mariano, in a hoarse whisper, for hewas so agitated he could scarcely speak. "Give my baby to me."
"Wait a little while. I'll carry her a little longer," said George,holding the unconscious girl.
"Father is too agitated to be steady enough just now," said Gabriel."I'll carry her."
"Let me see her face, for God's sake! Has she no life?" Don Marianoexclaimed.
"Oh, yes. She has fainted only. We will soon restore her toconsciousness. Don't be alarmed. I think the parting with Clarence hasnearly killed her--but she is alive," George said.
"But why did they part? Why did he go?" Don Mariano asked.
"That is as much a mystery to me as to you," George replied.
The fainting girl was tenderly placed in her bed, and all the care thatloving hearts could bestow was lavished on her. But nearly two hourselapsed before she returned to consciousness. Then, after lookingvaguely about the room for some minutes, an expression of pain came overher face, and looking at her father, she asked for Clarence.
"Victoriano has gone to call him," Don Mariano replied, hoping that thislittle fiction would come true, and believing it would if Victorianocould overtake the fugitive.
"I am so glad," she said, and with a sigh closed her eyes, lying socalmly that it was difficult to see whether she had relapsed into aswoon, or lay so quiet from sheer exhaustion.
In the meantime, he for whose love all this misery was suffered--and whoshared it fully--was flying onward as rapidly as a couple of fastthoroughbreds could take him. Victoriano followed at full gallop,confident of overtaking him, or if not, of being in town before thesteamer left. But the fates decided it should not be as the heart of theanxious rider wished, and when he rode up to the wharf the steamer wasleaving it. He could see its lights moving swiftly away, and hear theshaking and revolving of the wheels on the smooth bay, as the black,floating mass glided off, like a cruel monster swimming away with thehappiness of so many loving hearts.
Victoriano stood looking at the steamer with a disappointment so keenthat it seemed unbearable. He could have rebelled against any power.Then a sense of realization of the inevitable came like a revelation tohim, and he felt overpowered, surrounded by dangers that he might notavoid, because they would come upon him unawares.
In this perturbed state of mind he was still looking at the steamerpassing over the moonlit bay, when the freight agent for the steamercame to say that Mr. Darrell had left a note for him, and he would bringit if he waited. Victoriano not only would wait, but followed to thedoor of the freight office.
The agent said, as he handed the note, that Mr. Darrell had left ordersat the stable to keep the two horses and phaeton until Don Victorianosent for them. Eagerly Victoriano read the note. It ran thus:
_Dear Tano_:
Forgive me for not waiting to bid you good-by. I feared to miss the boat; and since Dona Josefa desired to postpone the wedding, I thought it was best for me to be away, under present circumstances. It would be too unendurable in my painful humiliation to be constantly dreading some other unexpected outbreak from my father. My presence would be a source of irritation to him, which might lead to worse results.
Say to Don Mariano and Don Gabriel I will write to them as soon as I reach San Francisco, perhaps before. My love to all of you, my good and beloved friends. Heaven bless you all.
I don't ask you to think kindly of me, for I know you will. I feel sick in mind and body; and how I wish I could have slept under your hospitable roof.
Tell Retty to write or telegraph how Alice is. I was so disappointed not to find Miss Mercedes when I drove back. I had felt so sure I heard her voice calling me, that I was faint wit
h disappointment and thoroughly heartsick.
Good-by, dear Tano, again. God bless you all.
Ever your true friend, Clarence.
P. S.--I leave you my horses and phaeton
There was nothing for Victoriano to do now but return home. He went tothe stable, ordered fresh horses put to the phaeton, and leaving his ownhorse with the other two, said he would send for them when they werethoroughly rested. He went to see Clarence's horses himself to be surethat they were well groomed. Two men were rubbing them down, and he sawthat neither of the two fine animals had been hurt by their furiousdrive. He patted them, and they turned their pretty heads andintelligent eyes, expanding their nostrils as they recognized him.
Victoriano was so depressed that he felt a presentiment of never moreseeing Clarence. He looked at the two horses as if they were a lasttoken of his friendship, and he hurried out of the stable and out oftown quickly, to be alone with the silent moon and his own thoughts; histhoughts of Alice, of Clarence and Mercedes going with him, as he drovehome. But Victoriano's thoughts of those three interesting persons wereshared by many others.
Don Mariano and Dona Josefa sat by Mercedes' bedside. Her heavy slumberbegan to alarm them. She lay motionless, with closed eyelids, but shewas not sleeping, for she would open her eyes when they spoke to her.
About midnight Dona Josefa asked her if she had been sleeping. She shookher head and whispered:
"I am waiting for Clarence. He is coming, sitting on a water lily. I seehim. I am waiting."
The look of dismay that Dona Josefa exchanged with her husband, revealedto each other their terrible anxiety and dread.
"We must wait for Victoriano, and if Clarence does not come, then wemust send for a doctor," Don Mariano whispered.
But Mercedes heard him, and said, scarcely audibly: "He will come. I amwaiting. He loves me. He don't want to kill me."
When Victoriano arrived it was near daylight, but Don Mariano was up andcame out to meet him. Seeing the phaeton with only one occupant, he knewthe sad truth. Victoriano gave him Clarence's letter, which he read withthe keenest regret, feeling that if he had stayed at home, as Mercedeshad begged, Clarence would not have felt compelled to go, but would havebeen made happy under that roof, as he deserved to be. Vain regrets now.He was gone, and there was nothing to be done but wait until he arrivedat San Francisco. It would only be a matter of three days, Don Marianotried to argue to himself, but the experiences of the last two days hadtaught him how much mischief might be effected in a very short space oftime.
When he returned to Mercedes' room he found that she was sleeping, buther sleep was restless, and now a high fever had set in. Her cheeks werelike red roses, and her pulse beat with telegraphic velocity. She moanedand moved her head, as if it pained her, but did not awake. It wasevident that a doctor must be sent for immediately.
Victoriano never drove or rode past Darrell's house without looking at acertain window next to that of Clarence's room. As he came from townnow, before driving into the court of his own house, he looked towardsthe well-known window. His heart beat with alarm, seeing a light throughthe shutters. Alice must be ill, he thought, and that light has beenburning all night. The lover's heart had guessed the truth. Alice wasill with a raging fever, and when daylight came, instead of the feverpassing off, as Mrs. Darrell had hoped, she became delirious.
Victoriano did not go to bed. He preferred to walk out to the frontpiazza and have another look at that window of Alice's room. Yes thelight was still burning. He felt sure that she was ill. Was she to besick, and he not able to see her? or inquire for her? How angry he feltat old Darrell. Poor Tano, he was a prey to contending emotions. He nowwished to see Mercedes, and had told his father that he would lie in oneof the hammocks in the veranda, instead of going to bed, so that hewould be called to Mercedes' room as soon as she awoke.
Presently Don Mariano came and said to him: "Victoriano, Mercedes isawake, but so entirely out of her head that she does not know any one ofus. We must send for a physician."
"I will go at once," Victoriano said, jumping to his feet.
"No, you have been up all night. We don't want too many sick to takecare of. Gabriel will go."
Victoriano looked towards the fascinating window, and hesitating alittle, said:
"I am afraid Alice is sick too. Evidently a light has been burning inher room all night. She fainted when Clarence was leaving them, and forthe last two days she has been so nervous, Everett says, that she wasalmost in convulsions."
"There is some one going out in Clarence's buggy. Perhaps they aresending for a doctor," Don Mariano said.
"I believe it," Victoriano said, watching the buggy. "It is Everett.Alice is ill, I am sure. Retty is coming this way."
Everett was driving fast, and in a very few minutes was at the gate, andcoming to the piazza.
"I ventured to come up," he said, "because I saw you here. It is a mostunchristian hour to go into a neighbor's house."
"Is Alice sick, Retty?" Victoriano asked, without heeding Everett'sapology for coming.
"Yes, she has a high fever, and is very delirious. I am going for adoctor, but as she has been calling for Clarence most piteously, motherthought he would come to see her."
Don Mariano and Victoriano turned several shades paler than they werebefore, but they related to Everett what had happened, as far as theyknew. Still the reason _why_ Clarence left must yet remain a mystery tothem until Mercedes could explain it.
Everett was greatly disconcerted and pained. He had hoped to findClarence, and as his father seemed moved and grieved at Alice's illness,all the family inferred that he would be only too glad to see Clarencerestored to them.
"I must hurry for a doctor," said Everett, with trembling lips, "andwhen Clarence arrives in San Francisco he will find a telegram awaitinghim there."
"He will find two," said Don Mariano.
"He can never stay away if he knows that Miss Mercedes and Alice aresick--sick with grief at his going from us," Everett said; adding: "areyou not going to send for a physician for Miss Mercedes?"
"Yes; Gabriel will go very soon," Don Mariano replied.
"Who is your doctor? Can't I call him for you?"
On being told the doctor's name, Everett said that he was the one heproposed to bring for Alice. Don Mariano then wrote a line asking thedoctor to come, and Everett hurried off on his sad errand.
Clarence had passed the night on deck, walking about in the moonlight,or sitting down to muse by the hour, with no one near--no company buthis thoughts. He felt ill and weary, but wakeful, and could not bear tolie down to rest. He must be moving about and thinking. He feltconvinced that his father had some _other_ cause of irritation than themere fact of the land having been paid for, but what that cause could behe had not the remotest idea. Then his thoughts would go back to theircenter of attraction, and pass in review, over and over again, the lastscene at the Alamar house, and every word that Mercedes had said. Themore he reflected upon them, the clearer it seemed to him that Mercedescould not help thinking it would be humiliating to marry him, for howcould a lady marry the son of a man who used such low language? And ifshe did, out of the purest devotion and tenderest love, could she avoida feeling of loathing for such a man? Certainly not; and such a man washis father; and Clarence's thoughts traveled around this painful circleall night.
On arriving at Wilmington, he heard the puffing of the little tug boat,coming to ferry the passengers to Los Angeles. He had nothing to do atLos Angeles, but he would go with the passengers, rather than wait allday in the steamer at anchor, rolling like a little canoe, and whosefate was too much like his own--as he, too, was tossing over a broadexpanse, a boundless ocean, like a block of wood, helpless, compelled toobey, as though he was an infant. He took a cup of coffee, and joinedthe passengers on the little tug boat, which was soon meandering overthe shallow, muddy creek, or rather swamp, with its little crookedchannels, which is to be made into an harbor, with time, pa
tience andmoney.
At Los Angeles a surprise awaited Clarence, an incident which, comingafter those of the previous night, was delightful, indeed. He wassauntering past a hotel, when he heard the well known voice of FredHaverly, calling him.
"You are the very man I came to see. I am now expecting at any moment, adispatch from Hubert in answer to my inquiry for your whereabouts," Fredsaid, conducting Clarence to his room, where they could talk businesswithout being interrupted.
The business which brought Fred up from the mines was soon explained,and in conclusion Fred said:
"I wish you could go with me, see the ores yourself, and talk with themen who wish to buy the mines. But the weather is frightfully hot, andyou are not looking well. What is the matter? May I inquire?"
Clarence soon told Fred all that had happened at home, and how he wasexiled, and did not care where he went. Fred was truly distressed, forhe had never seen Clarence take anything so much to heart and be so castdown.
"I'll tell you what we had better do to-day. Let us take a carriage, andgo for a drive among the orange groves. Then we will come back todinner. After dinner we will kill time somehow for a couple of hours,then you go to bed. To-morrow you will decide what to do."
"But to-morrow there will be no steamer to take me to San Francisco."
"Then wait for the next. The matters you have under consideration aretoo important to decide hastily."
"That is true. I wish some one had reminded me of that fact lastevening. I'll let the steamer go, and if I do not decide to go with you,I'll take the next boat. But now, as to our drive, I think I wouldrather have it after I had some breakfast, because I begin to feelfaint, having eaten nothing for twenty-four hours."
Clarence sat down to a very nice breakfast, but did not succeed ineating it. He had no appetite. All food was distasteful to him. They hadtheir drive and dinner, and he managed to get some sleep. This, however,did not refresh him, and he felt no better. Still, he decided to go tosee his "_bonanza_," and talk with the men who wished to buy the mines.If he did not sell them, Fred thought stamp mills ought to be put up, asthe ore heaps were getting to be too high and too numerous and veryrich.
Clarence devoted that day to writing letters. He wrote to his mother,Alice and Everett, to George, Gabriel and Victoriano; but his longestletters were to Mercedes and Don Mariano.
On the following day he and Fred took the stage for Yuma. When theyreached that point, the river boat was about to start, thus Clarence andFred lost no time in going up the river to their mines. But as thenavigation up the Colorado River, above Fort Yuma, was rather slow,having to steam against the current following the tortuous channel ofthat crooked, narrow stream, and the mines were more than three hundredmiles from Yuma (about thirty from Fort Mojave), they did not arrive assoon as they would have wished, and Clarence had been stricken down withtyphoid fever before they reached their camp.