Prologue.

by Bret Harte

　　In San Francisco the "rainy season" had been making itself areality to the wondering Eastern immigrant. There were short daysof drifting clouds and flying sunshine, and long succeeding nightsof incessant downpour, when the rain rattled on the thin shinglesor drummed on the resounding zinc of pioneer roofs. The shiftingsand-dunes on the outskirts were beaten motionless and sodden bythe onslaught of consecutive storms; the southeast trades broughtthe saline breath of the outlying Pacific even to the busy hauntsof Commercial and Kearney streets; the low-lying Mission road was aquagmire; along the City Front, despite of piles and pier andwharf, the Pacific tides still asserted themselves in mud and oozeas far as Sansome Street; the wooden sidewalks of Clay andMontgomery streets were mere floating bridges or buoyant pontoonssuperposed on elastic bogs; Battery Street was the Silurian beachof that early period on which tin cans, packing-boxes, freight,household furniture, and even the runaway crews of deserted shipshad been cast away. There were dangerous and unknown depths inMontgomery Street and on the Plaza, and the wheels of a passingcarriage hopelessly mired had to be lifted by the volunteer handsof a half dozen high-booted wayfarers, whose wearers weresufficiently content to believe that a woman, a child, or aninvalid was behind its closed windows, without troubling themselvesor the occupant by looking through the glass.It was a carriage that, thus released, eventually drew up beforethe superior public edifice known as the City Hall. From it awoman, closely veiled, alighted, and quickly entered the building.A few passers-by turned to look at her, partly from the rarity ofthe female figure at that period, and partly from the greaterrarity of its being well formed and even ladylike.As she kept her way along the corridor and ascended an ironstaircase, she was passed by others more preoccupied in business atthe various public offices. One of these visitors, however,stopped as if struck by some fancied resemblance in her appearance,turned, and followed her. But when she halted before a door marked"Mayor's Office," he paused also, and, with a look of half humorousbewilderment and a slight glance around him as if seeking for someone to whom to impart his arch fancy, he turned away. The womanthen entered a large anteroom with a certain quick feminine gestureof relief, and, finding it empty of other callers, summoned theporter, and asked him some question in a voice so suppressed by theofficial severity of the apartment as to be hardly audible. Theattendant replied by entering another room marked "Mayor'sSecretary," and reappeared with a stripling of seventeen oreighteen, whose singularly bright eyes were all that was youthfulin his composed features. After a slight scrutiny of the woman--half boyish, half official--he desired her to be seated, with acertain exaggerated gravity as if he was over-acting a grown-uppart, and, taking a card from her, reentered his office. Here,however, he did not stand on his head or call out a confederateyouth from a closet, as the woman might have expected. To the leftwas a green baize door, outlined with brass-studded rivets like acheerful coffin-lid, and bearing the mortuary inscription,"Private." This he pushed open, and entered the Mayor's privateoffice.The municipal dignitary of San Francisco, although an erect,soldier-like man of strong middle age, was seated with his officialchair tilted back against the wall and kept in position by his feeton the rungs of another, which in turn acted as a support for asecond man, who was seated a few feet from him in an easy-chair.Both were lazily smoking.The Mayor took the card from his secretary, glanced at it, said"Hullo!" and handed it to his companion, who read aloud "KateHoward," and gave a prolonged whistle."Where is she?" asked the Mayor."In the anteroom, sir.""Any one else there?""No, sir.""Did you say I was engaged?""Yes, sir; but it appears she asked Sam who was with you, and whenhe told her, she said, All right, she wanted to see ColonelPendleton too."The men glanced interrogatively at each other, but ColonelPendleton, abruptly anticipating the Mayor's functions, said, "Haveher in," and settled himself back in his chair.A moment later the door opened, and the stranger appeared. As sheclosed the door behind her she removed her heavy veil, anddisplayed the face of a very handsome woman of past thirty. It isonly necessary to add that it was a face known to the two men, andall San Francisco."Well, Kate," said the Mayor, motioning to a chair, but withoutrising or changing his attitude. "Here I am, and here is ColonelPendleton, and these are office hours. What can we do for you?"If he had received her with magisterial formality, or evenpolitely, she would have been embarrassed, in spite of a certainboldness of her dark eyes and an ever present consciousness of herpower. It is possible that his own ease and that of his companionwas part of their instinctive good nature and perception. Sheaccepted it as such, took the chair familiarly, and seated herselfsideways upon it, her right arm half encircling its back andhanging over it; altogether an easy and not ungraceful pose."Thank you, Jack--I mean, Mr. Mayor--and you, too, Harry. I cameon business. I want you two men to act as guardians for my littledaughter.""Your what?" asked the two men simultaneously."My daughter," she repeated, with a short laugh, which, however,ended with a note of defiance. "Of course you don't know. Well,"she added half aggressively, and yet with the air of hurrying overa compromising and inexplicable weakness, "the long and short of itis I've got a little girl down at the Convent of Santa Clara, andhave had--there! I've been taking care of her--good care, too,boys--for some time. And now I want to put things square for herfor the future. See? I want to make over to her all my property--it's nigh on to seventy-five thousand dollars, for Bob Snelling putme up to getting those water lots a year ago--and, you see, I'llhave to have regular guardians, trustees, or whatever you call 'em,to take care of the money for her.""Who's her father?" asked the Mayor."What's that to do with it?" she said impetuously."Everything--because he's her natural guardian.""Suppose he isn't known? Say dead, for instance.""Dead will do," said the Mayor gravely. "Yes, dead will do,"repeated Colonel Pendleton. After a pause, in which the two menseemed to have buried this vague relative, the Mayor looked keenlyat the woman."Kate, have you and Bob Ridley had a quarrel?""Bob Ridley knows too much to quarrel with me," she said briefly."Then you are doing this for no motive other than that which youtell me?""Certainly. That's motive enough--ain't it?""Yes." The Mayor took his feet off his companion's chair and satupright. Colonel Pendleton did the same, also removing his cigarfrom his lips. "I suppose you'll think this thing over?" he added."No--I want it done now--right here--in this office.""But you know it will be irrevocable.""That's what I want it--something might happen afterwards.""But you are leaving nothing for yourself, and if you are going todevote everything to this daughter and lead a different life,you'll"--"Who said I was?"The two men paused, and looked at her. "Look here, boys, you don'tunderstand. From the day that paper is signed, I've nothing to dowith the child. She passes out of my hands into yours, to beschooled, educated, and made a rich girl out of--and never to knowwho or what or where I am. She doesn't know now. I haven't givenher and myself away in that style--you bet! She thinks I'm only afriend. She hasn't seen me more than once or twice, and not toknow me again. Why, I was down there the other day, and passed herwalking out with the Sisters and the other scholars, and she didn'tknow me--though one of the Sisters did. But they're mum--they are,and don't let on. Why, now I think of it, you were down there,Jack, presiding in big style as Mr. Mayor at the exercises. Youmust have noticed her. Little thing, about nine--lot of hair, thesame color as mine, and brown eyes. White and yellow sash. Had anecklace on of real pearls I gave her. I bought them, youunderstand, myself at Tucker's--gave two hundred and fifty dollarsfor them--and a big bouquet of white rosebuds and lilacs I senther.""I remember her now on the platform," said the Mayor gravely. "Sothat is your child?""You bet--no slouch either. But that's neither here nor there.What I want now is you and Harry to look after her and her propertythe same as if I didn't live. More than that, as if I had neverlived. I've come to you two boys, because I reckon you're squaremen and won't give me away. But I want to fix it even firmer thanthat. I want you to take hold of this trust not as JackHammersley, but as the mayor of San Francisco! And when you makeway for a new Mayor, he takes up the trust by virtue of his office,you see, so there's a trustee all along. I reckon there'll alwaysbe a San Francisco and always a Mayor--at least till the child's ofage; and it gives her from the start a father, and a pretty big onetoo. Of course the new man isn't to know the why and wherefore ofthis. It's enough for him to take on that duty with his others,without asking questions. And he's only got to invest that moneyand pay it out as it's wanted, and consult Harry at times."The two men looked at each other with approving intelligence. "Buthave you thought of a successor for me, in case somebody shoots meon sight any time in the next ten years?" asked Pendleton, with agravity equal to her own."I reckon, as you're President of the El Dorado Bank, you'll makethat a part of every president's duty too. You'll get thedirectors to agree to it, just as Jack here will get the CommonCouncil to make it the Mayor's business."The two men had risen to their feet, and, after exchanging glances,gazed at her silently. Presently the Mayor said:--"It can be done, Kate, and we'll do it for you--eh, Harry?""Count me in," said Pendleton, nodding. "But you'll want a thirdman.""What's that for?""The casting vote in case of any difficulty."The woman's face fell. "I reckoned to keep it a secret with onlyyou two," she said half bitterly."No matter. We'll find some one to act, or you'll think ofsomebody and let us know.""But I wanted to finish this thing right here," she saidimpatiently. She was silent for a moment, with her arched blackbrows knitted. Then she said abruptly, "Who's that smart littlechap that let me in? He looks as if he might be trusted.""That's Paul Hathaway, my secretary. He's sensible, but too young.Stop! I don't know about that. There's no legal age necessary, andhe's got an awfully old head on him," said the Mayor thoughtfully."And I say his youth's in his favor," said Colonel Pendleton,promptly. "He's been brought up in San Francisco, and he's got nod--d old-fashioned Eastern notions to get rid of, and will dropinto this as a matter of business, without prying about orwondering. I'll serve with him.""Call him in!" said the woman.He came. Very luminous of eye, and composed of lip and brow. Yetwith the same suggestion of "making believe" very much, as if tooffset the possible munching of forbidden cakes and apples in hisown room, or the hidden presence of some still in his pocket.The Mayor explained the case briefly, but with business-likeprecision. "Your duty, Mr. Hathaway," he concluded, "at presentwill be merely nominal and, above all, confidential. ColonelPendleton and myself will set the thing going." As the youth--whohad apparently taken in and "illuminated" the whole subject with asingle bright-eyed glance--bowed and was about to retire, as if torelieve himself of his real feelings behind the door, the womanstopped him with a gesture."Let's have this thing over now," she said to the Mayor. "You drawup something that we can all sign at once." She fixed her eyes onPaul, partly to satisfy her curiosity and justify her predilectionfor him, and partly to detect him in any overt act of boyishness.But the youth simply returned her glance with a cheerful, easyprescience, as if her past lay clearly open before him. For someminutes there was only the rapid scratching of the Mayor's pen overthe paper. Suddenly he stopped and looked up."What's her name?""She mustn't have mine, said the woman quickly. "That's a part ofmy idea. I give that up with the rest. She must take a new namethat gives no hint of me. Think of one, can't you, you two men?Something that would kind of show that she was the daughter of thecity, you know.""You couldn't call her 'Santa Francisca,' eh?" said ColonelPendleton, doubtingly."Not much," said the woman, with a seriousness that defied anyulterior insinuation."Nor Chrysopolinia?" said the Mayor, musingly."But that's only a first name. She must have a family name," saidthe woman impatiently."Can you think of something, Paul?" said the Mayor, appealing toHathaway. "You're a great reader, and later from your classicsthan I am." The Mayor, albeit practical and Western, liked to beostentatiously forgetful of his old Alma Mater, Harvard, onoccasions."How would Yerba Buena do, sir?" responded the youth gravely."It's the old Spanish title of the first settlement here. It comesfrom the name that Father Junipero Serra gave to the pretty littlevine that grows wild over the sandhills, and means 'good herb.' Hecalled it 'A balm for the wounded and sore.'""For the wounded and sore?" repeated the woman slowly."That's what they say," responded Hathaway."You ain't playing us, eh?" she said, with a half laugh that,however, scarcely curved the open mouth with which she had beenregarding the young secretary."No," said the Mayor, hurriedly. "It's true. I've often heard it.And a capital name it would be for her too. Yerba the first name.Buena the second. She could be called Miss Buena when she growsup.""Yerba Buena it is," she said suddenly. Then, indicating the youthwith a slight toss of her handsome head, "His head's level--you cansee that."There was a silence again, and the scratching of the Mayor's pencontinued. Colonel Pendleton buttoned up his coat, pulled his longmoustache into shape, slightly arranged his collar, and walked tothe window without looking at the woman. Presently the Mayor arosefrom his seat, and, with a certain formal courtesy that had beenwanting in his previous manner, handed her his pen and arranged hischair for her at the desk. She took the pen, and rapidly appendedher signature to the paper. The others followed; and, obedient toa sign from him, the porter was summoned from the outer office towitness the signatures. When this was over, the Mayor turned tohis secretary. "That's all just now, Paul."Accepting this implied dismissal with undisturbed gravity, thenewly made youthful guardian bowed and retired. When the greenbaize door had closed upon him, the Mayor turned abruptly to thewoman with the paper in his hand."Look here, Kate; there is still time for you to reconsider youraction, and tear up this solitary record of it. If you choose todo so, say so, and I promise you that this interview, and all youhave told us, shall never pass beyond these walls. No one will bethe wiser for it, and we will give you full credit for havingattempted something that was too much for you to perform."She had half risen from her chair when he began, but fell backagain in her former position and looked impatiently from him to hiscompanion, who was also regarding her earnestly."What are you talking about?" she said sharply."You, Kate," said the Mayor. "You have given everything youpossess to this child. What provision have you made for yourself?""Do I look played out?" she said, facing them.She certainly did not look like anything but a strong, handsome,resolute woman, but the men did not reply."That is not all, Kate," continued the Mayor, folding his arms andlooking down upon her. "Have you thought what this means? It isthe complete renunciation not only of any claim but any interest inyour child. That is what you have just signed, and what it will beour duty now to keep you to. From this moment we stand between youand her, as we stand between her and the world. Are you ready tosee her grow up away from you, losing even the little recollectionshe has had of your kindness--passing you in the street withoutknowing you, perhaps even having you pointed out to her as a personshe should avoid? Are you prepared to shut your eyes and earshenceforth to all that you may hear of her new life, when she ishappy, rich, respectable, a courted heiress--perhaps the wife ofsome great man? Are you ready to accept that she will never know--that no one will ever know--that you had any share in making herso, and that if you should ever breathe it abroad we shall hold itour duty to deny it, and brand the man who takes it up for you as aliar and the slanderer of an honest girl?""That's what I came here for," she said curtly, then, regardingthem curiously, and running her ringed hand up and down the railedback of her chair, she added, with a half laugh, "What are youplayin' me for, boys?""But," said Colonel Pendleton, without heeding her, "are you readyto know that in sickness or affliction you will be powerless tohelp her; that a stranger will take your place at her bedside, thatas she has lived without knowing you she will die without thatknowledge, or that if through any weakness of yours it came to herthen, it would embitter her last thoughts of earth and, dying, shewould curse you?"The smile upon her half-open mouth still fluttered around it, andher curved fingers still ran up and down the rails of the chair-back as if they were the cords of some mute instrument, to whichshe was trying to give voice. Her rings once or twice grated uponthem as if she had at times gripped them closely. But she rosequickly when he paused, said "Yes," sharply, and put the chair backagainst the wall."Then I will send you copies of this tomorrow, and take anassignment of the property.""I've got the check here for it now," she said, drawing it from herpocket and laying it upon the desk. "There, I reckon that'sfinished. Good-by!"The Mayor took up his hat, Colonel Pendleton did the same; both menpreceded her to the door, and held it open with grave politenessfor her to pass."Where are you boys going?" she asked, glancing from the one to theother."To see you to your carriage, Mrs. Howard," said the Mayor, in avoice that had become somewhat deeper."Through the whole building? Past all the people in the hall andon the stairs? Why, I passed Dan Stewart as I came in.""If you will allow us?" he said, turning half appealing to ColonelPendleton, who, without speaking, made a low bow of assent.A slight flush rose to her face--the first and only change in theeven healthy color she had shown during the interview."I reckon I won't trouble you, boys, if it's all the same to you,"she said, with her half-strident laugh. "You mightn't mind beingseen--but I would-- Good-by."She held out a hand to each of the men, who remained for an instantsilently holding them. Then she passed out of the door, slippingon her close black veil as she did so with a half-funerealsuggestion, and they saw her tall, handsome figure fade into theshadows of the long corridor."Paul," said the Mayor, reentering the office and turning to hissecretary, "do you know who that woman is?""Yes, sir.""She's one in a million! And now forget that you have ever seenher."