Chapter IV.

by Bret Harte

　　It was two months later that Mr. Tony Shear, of Marysville, butlately confidential clerk to the Hon. Paul Hathaway, entered hisemployer's chambers in Sacramento, and handed the latter a letter."I only got back from San Francisco this morning; but Mr. Slatesaid I was to give you that, and if it satisfied you, and was whatyou wanted, you would send it back to him."Paul took the envelope and opened it. It contained a printer'sproof-slip, which he hurriedly glanced over. It read as follows:--"Those of our readers who are familiar with the early history ofSan Francisco will be interested to know that an eccentric andirregular trusteeship, vested for the last eight years in the Mayorof San Francisco and two of our oldest citizens, was terminatedyesterday by the majority of a beautiful and accomplished younglady, a pupil of the convent of Santa Clara. Very few, except theoriginal trustees, were cognizant of the fact that theadministration of the trustees has been a recognized function ofthe successive Mayors of San Francisco during this period; and themystery surrounding it has been only lately divulged. It offers atouching and romantic instance of a survival of the old patriarchalduties of the former Alcaldes and the simplicity of pioneer days.It seems that, in the unsettled conditions of the Mexican land-titles that followed the American occupation, the consumptive widowof a scion of one of the oldest Californian families intrusted herproperty and the custody of her infant daughter virtually to thecity of San Francisco, as represented by the trustees specified,until the girl should become of age. Within a year, the invalidmother died. With what loyalty, sagacity, and prudence thesegentlemen fulfilled their trust may be gathered from the fact thatthe property left in their charge has not only been secured andprotected, but increased a hundredfold in value; and that the younglady, who yesterday attained her majority, is not only one of therichest landed heiresses on the Pacific Slope, but one of the mostaccomplished and thoroughly educated of her sex. It is now nosecret that this favored child of Chrysopolis is the Dona MariaConcepcion de Arguello de la Yerba Buena, so called from herancestral property on the island, now owned by the Federalgovernment. But it is an affecting and poetic tribute to theparent of her adoption that she has preferred to pass under theold, quaintly typical name of the city, and has been known to herfriends simply as 'Miss Yerba Buena.' It is a no less pleasant andsuggestive circumstance that our 'youngest senator,' the HonorablePaul Hathaway, formerly private secretary to Mayor Hammersley, isone of the original unofficial trustees; while the chivalry of theolder days is perpetuated in the person of Colonel Harry Pendleton,the remaining trustee."As soon as he had finished, Paul took a pencil and crossed out thelast sentence; but instead of laying the proof aside, or returningit to the waiting secretary, he remained with it in his hand, hissilent, set face turned towards the window. Whether the merelyhuman secretary was tired of waiting, or the devoted partisan sawsomething on his young chief's face that disturbed him, he turnedto Paul with that exaggerated respect which his functions assecretary had grafted upon his affection for his old associate, andsaid:--"I hope nothing's wrong, sir. Not another of those scurrilousattacks on you for putting that bill through to relieve ColonelPendleton? Yet it was a risky thing for you, sir."Paul started, recovered himself as if from some remote abstraction,and, with a smile, said: "No,--nothing. Quite the reverse. Writeto Mr. Slate, thank him, and say that it will do very well--withthe exception of the lines I have marked out. Then bring me theletter, and I will add this inclosure. Did you call on ColonelPendleton?""Yes, sir. He was at Santa Clara, and had not yet returned,--atleast, that's what that dandy nigger of his told me. The airs andgraces that that creature puts on since the colonel's affairs havebeen straightened out is a little too much for a white man tostand. Why, sir! d--d if he didn't want to patronize you, andallowed to me that 'de Kernel' had a 'fah ideah' of you, 'andthought you a promisin' young man.' The fact is, sir, the party ismaking a big mistake trying to give votes to that kind of cattle--it would only be giving two votes to the other side, for, slave orfree, they're the chattels of their old masters. And as to themasters' gratitude for what you've done affecting a single vote oftheir party--you're mistaken.""Colonel Pendleton belongs to no party," said Paul, curtly; "but ifhis old constituents ever try to get into power again, they've losttheir only independent martyr."He presently became abstracted again, and Shear produced from hisovercoat pocket a series of official-looking documents."I've brought the reports, sir.""Eh?" said Paul, absently.The secretary stared. "The reports of the San Francisco Chief ofPolice that you asked me to get." His employer was certainly veryforgetful to-day."Oh, yes; thank you. You can lay them on my desk. I'll look themover in Committee. You can go now, and if any one calls to see mesay I'm busy."The secretary disappeared in the adjoining room, and Paul leanedback in his chair, thinking. He had, at last, effected the work hehad resolved upon when he left Rosario two months ago; the articlehe had just read, and which would appear as an editorial in the SanFrancisco paper the day after tomorrow, was the culmination ofquietly persistent labor, inquiry, and deduction, and would beaccepted, hereafter, as authentic history, which, if not thoroughlyestablished, at least could not be gainsaid. Immediately onarriving at San Francisco, he had hastened to Pendleton's bedside,and laid the facts and his plan before him. To his mingledastonishment and chagrin, the colonel had objected vehemently tothis "saddling of anybody's offspring on a gentleman who couldn'tdefend himself," and even Paul's explanation that the putativefather was a myth scarcely appeased him. But Paul's timelydemonstration, by relating the scene he had witnessed of JudgeBaker's infelicitous memory, that the secret was likely to berevealed at any moment, and that if the girl continued to cling toher theory, as he feared she would, even to the parting with herfortune, they would be forced to accept it, or be placed in thehideous position of publishing her disgrace, at last convinced him.On the other hand, there was less danger of her positive impositionbeing discovered than of the vague and impositive truth. The realdanger lay in the present uncertainty and mystery, which courtedsurmise and invited discovery. Paul, himself, was willing to takeall the responsibility, and at last extracted from the colonel apromise of passive assent. The only revelation he feared was fromthe interference of the mother, but Pendleton was strong in thebelief that she had not only utterly abandoned the girl to the careof her guardians, but that she would never rescind her resolutionto disclaim her relationship; that she had gone into self-exile forthat purpose; and that if she had changed her mind, he would be thefirst to know of it. On this day they had parted. Meantime, Paulhad not forgotten another resolution he had formed on his firstvisit to the colonel, and had actually succeeded in gettinglegislative relief for the Golden Gate Bank, and restoring to thecolonel some of his private property that had been in the hands ofa receiver.This had been the background of Paul's meditation, which only threwinto stronger relief the face and figure that moved before him aspersistently as it had once before in the twilight of his room atRosario. There were times when her moonlit face, with its faint,strange smile, stood out before him as it had stood out of theshadows of the half-darkened drawing-room that night; as he hadseen it--he believed for the last time--framed for an instant inthe parted curtains of the doorway, when she bade him "Goodnight."For he had never visited her since, and, on the attainment of hermajority, had delegated his passing functions to Pendleton, whom hehad induced to accompany the Mayor to Santa Clara for the final andformal ceremony. For the present she need not know how much shehad been indebted to him for the accomplishment of her wishes.With a sigh he at last recalled himself to his duty, and, drawingthe pile of reports which Shear had handed him, he began to examinethem. These, again, bore reference to his silent, unobtrusiveinquiries. In his function as Chairman of Committee he had takenadvantage of a kind of advanced moral legislation then in vogue,and particularly in reference to a certain social reform, toexamine statistics, authorities, and witnesses, and in thisindirect but exhaustive manner had satisfied himself that the woman"Kate Howard," alias "Beverly," alias "Durfree," had long passedbeyond the ken of local police supervision, and that in the recordthere was no trace or indication of her child. He was going overthose infelix records of early transgressions with the eye oftrained experience, making notes from time to time for his officialuse, and yet always watchful of his secret quest, when suddenly hestopped with a quickened pulse. In the record of an affray at agambling-house, one of the parties had sought refuge in the roomsof "Kate Howard," who was represented before the magistrate by herprotector, Juan de Arguello. The date given was contemporary withthe beginning of the Trust, but that proved nothing. But the name--had it any significance, or was it a grim coincidence, that spokeeven more terribly and hopelessly of the woman's promiscuousfrailty? He again attacked the entire report, but there was noother record of her name. Even that would have passed any eye lesseager and watchful than his own.He laid the reports aside, and took up the proof-slip again. Wasthere any man living but himself and Pendleton who would connectthese two statements? That her relations with this Arguello werebrief and not generally known was evident from Pendleton'signorance of the fact. But he must see him again, and at once.Perhaps he might have acquired some information from Yerba; theyoung girl might have given to his age that confidence she hadwithheld from the younger man; indeed, he remembered with a flushit was partly in that hope he had induced the colonel to go toSanta Clara. He put the proof-slip in his pocket and stepped tothe door of the next room."You need not write that letter to Slate, Tony. I will see himmyself. I am going to San Francisco to-night.""And do you want anything copied from the reports, sir?"Paul quickly swept them from the table into his drawer, and lockedit. "Not now, thank you. I'll finish my notes later."The next morning Paul was in San Francisco, and had again crossedthe portals of the Golden Gate Hotel. He had been already toldthat the doom of that palatial edifice was sealed by the laying ofthe cornerstone of a new erection in the next square that shouldutterly eclipse it; he even fancied that it had already lost itsfreshness, and its meretricious glitter had been tarnished. Butwhen he had ordered his breakfast he made his way to the publicparlor, happily deserted at that early hour. It was here that hehad first seen her. She was standing there, by that mirror, whentheir eyes first met in a sudden instinctive sympathy. She herselfhad remembered and confessed it. He recalled the pleased yetconscious, girlish superiority with which she had received theadulation of her friends; his memory of her was broad enough noweven to identify Milly, as it repeopled the vacant and silent room.An hour later he was making his way to Colonel Pendleton'slodgings, and half expecting to find the St. Charles Hotel itselftransformed by the eager spirit of improvement. But it was stillthere in all its barbaric and provincial incongruity. Publicopinion had evidently recognized that nothing save the absoluterazing of its warped and flimsy walls could effect a change, andwaited for it to collapse suddenly like the house of cards itresembled. Paul wondered for a moment if it were not ominous ofits lodgers' hopeless inability to accept changed conditions, andit was with a feeling of doubt that he even now ascended thecreaking staircase. But it was instantly dissipated on thethreshold of the colonel's sitting-room by the appearance of Georgeand his reception of his master's guest.The grizzled negro was arrayed in a surprisingly new suit of bluecloth with a portentous white waistcoat and an enormous crumpledwhite cravat, that gave him the appearance of suffering from aglandular swelling. His manner had, it seemed to Paul, advanced inexaggeration with his clothes. Dusting a chair and offering it tothe visitor, he remained gracefully posed with his hand on the backof another."Yo' finds us heah yet, Marse Hathaway," he began, elegantly toyingwith an enormous silver watch-chain, "fo' de Kernel he don' binfind contagious apartments dat at all approximate, and he don'build, for his mind's not dat settled dat he ain't goin' totrabbel. De place is low down, sah, and de fo'ks is low down, anddah's a heap o' white trash dat has congested under de roof ob dehotel since we came. But we uses it temper'ly, sah, fo' depresent, and in a dissolutory fashion."It struck Paul that the contiguity of a certain barber's shop andits dangerous reminiscences had something to do with George's loftydepreciation of his surroundings, and he could not help saying:--"Then you don't find it necessary to have it convenient to thebarber's shop any more? I am glad of that, George."The shot told. The unfortunate George, after an endeavor tocollect himself by altering his pose two or three times in rapidsuccession, finally collapsed, and, with an air of mingled pain anddignity, but without losing his ceremonious politeness or uniquevocabulary, said:--"Yo' got me dah, sah! Yo' got me dah! De infirmities o' humannatcheh, sah, is de common p'operty ob man, and a gemplum likeyo'self, sah, a legislato' and a pow'ful speakah, is de lass one tohol' it agin de individal pusson. I confess, sah, de circumstanceswas propiskuous, de fees fahly good, and de risks inferior. Degemplum who kept de shop was an artess hisself, and had been niggahto Kernel Henderson of Tennessee, and do gemplum I relieved was aMr. Johnson. But de Kernel, he wouldn't see it in dat light, sah,and if yo' don' mind, sah"--"I haven't the slightest idea of telling the colonel or anybody,George," said Paul, smiling; "and I am glad to find on your ownaccount that you are able to put aside any work beyond your dutyhere.""Thank yo', sah. If yo' 'll let me introduce yo' to derefreshment, yo' 'll find it all right now. De Glencoe is dah. DeKernel will be here soon, but he would be pow'ful mo'tified, sah,if yo' didn't hab something afo' he come." He opened a well-filledsideboard as he spoke. It was the first evidence Paul had seen ofthe colonel's restored fortunes. He would willingly have contentedhimself with this mere outward manifestation, but in his desire tosoothe the ruffled dignity of the old man he consented to partakeof a small glass of spirits. George at once became radiant andcommunicative. "De Kernel bin gone to Santa Clara to see de younglady dat's finished her edercation dah--de Kernel's only ward, sah.She's one o' dose million-heiresses and highly connected, sah, widde old Mexican Gobbermen, I understand. And I reckon dey's bin biggoin's on doun dar, foh de Mayer kem hisself fo' de Kernel. Lookslike des might bin a proceshon, sah. Yo' don' know of a young ladybin hab a title, sah? I won't be shuah, his Honah de Mayer or deKernel didn't say someting about a 'Donna'""Very likely," said Paul, turning away with a faint smile. So itwas already in the air! Setting aside the old negro'scharacteristic exaggeration, there had already been someconversation between the colonel and the Mayor, which George hadvaguely overheard. He might be too late, the alternative might beno longer in his hands. But his discomposure was heightened amoment later by the actual apparition of the returning Pendleton.He was dressed in a tightly buttoned blue frock-coat, which fairlyaccented his tall, thin military figure, although the top lappelwas thrown far enough back to show a fine ruffled cambric shirt andchecked gingham necktie, and was itself adorned with a whiterosebud in the button-hole. Fawn-colored trousers strapped overnarrow patent-leather boots, and a tall white hat, whose broadmourning-band was a perpetual memory of his mother, who had died inhis boyhood, completed his festal transformation. Yet his erectcarriage, high aquiline nose, and long gray drooping moustache lenta distinguishing grace to this survival of a bygone fashion, andover-rode any irreverent comment. Even his slight limp seemed togive a peculiar character to his massive gold-headed stick, andmade it a part of his formal elegance.Handing George his stick and a military cape he carried easily overhis left arm, he greeted Paul warmly, yet with a return of his olddominant manner."Glad to see you, Hathaway, and glad to see the boy has served youbetter than the last time. If I had known you were coming, I wouldhave tried to get back in time to have breakfast with you. Butyour friends at 'Rosario'--I think they call it; in my time it wasowned by Colonel Briones, and he called it 'The Devil's LittleCanyon'--detained me with some d--d civilities. Let's see--hisname is Woods, isn't it? Used to sell rum to runaway sailors onLong Wharf, and take stores in exchange? Or was it Baker?--JudgeBaker? I forget which. Well, sir, they wished to be remembered."It struck Paul, perhaps unreasonably, that the colonel'sindifference and digression were both a little assumed, and heasked abruptly,--"And you fulfilled your mission?""I made the formal transfer, with the Mayor, of the property toMiss Arguello.""To Miss Arguello?""To the Dona Maria Concepcion de Arguello de la Yerba Buena--tospeak precisely," said the colonel, slowly. "George, you can takethat hat to that blank hatter--what's his blanked name? I read itonly yesterday in a list of the prominent citizens here--and tellhim, with my compliments, that I want a gentleman's mourning bandaround my hat, and not a child's shoelace. It may be his idea ofthe value of his own parents--if he ever had any--but I don't carefor him to appraise mine. Go!"As the door closed upon George, Paul turned to the colonel--"Then am I to understand that you have agreed to her story?"The colonel rose, picked up the decanter, poured out a glass ofwhiskey, and holding it in his hand, said:--"My dear Hathaway, let us understand each other. As a gentleman, Ihave made a point through life never to question the age, name, orfamily of any lady of my acquaintance. Miss Yerba Buena came ofage yesterday, and, as she is no longer my ward, she is certainlyentitled to the consideration I have just mentioned. If she,therefore, chooses to tack to her name the whole Spanish directory,I don't see why I shouldn't accept it."Characteristic as this speech appeared to be of the colonel'sordinary manner, it struck Paul as being only an imitation of hisusual frank independence, and made him uneasily conscious of somevague desertion on Pendleton's part. He fixed his bright eyes onhis host, who was ostentatiously sipping his liquor, and said:--"Am I to understand that you have heard nothing more from MissYerba, either for or against her story? That you still do not knowwhether she has deceived herself, has been deceived by others, oris deceiving us?""After what I have just told you, Mr. Hathaway," said the colonel,with an increased exaggeration of manner which Paul thought must beapparent even to himself, "I should have but one way of dealingwith questions of that kind from anybody but yourself."This culminating extravagance--taken in connection with Pendleton'spassing doubts--actually forced a laugh from Paul in spite of hisbitterness.Colonel Pendleton's face flushed quickly. Like most positive one-idea'd men, he was restricted from any possible humorouscombination, and only felt a mysterious sense of being detected insome weakness. He put down his glass."Mr. Hathaway," he began, with a slight vibration in his usualdominant accents, "you have lately put me under a sense of personalobligation for a favor which I felt I could accept withoutderogation from a younger man, because it seemed to be one not onlyof youthful generosity but of justice, and was not unworthy theexalted ambition of a young man like yourself or the simple desertsof an old man such as I am. I accepted it, sir, the more readily,because it was entirely unsolicited by me, and seemed to be thespontaneous offering of your own heart. If I have presumed upon itto express myself freely on other matters in a way that onlyexcites your ridicule, I can but offer you an apology, sir. If Ihave accepted a favor I can neither renounce nor return, I musttake the consequences to myself, and even beg you, sir, to put upwith them."Remorseful as Paul felt, there was a singular resemblance betweenthe previous reproachful pose of George and this present attitudeof his master, as if the mere propinquity of personal sacrifice hadmade them alike, that struck him with a mingled pathos andludicrousness. But he said warmly, "It is I who must apologize, mydear colonel. I am not laughing at your conclusions, but at thissingular coincidence with a discovery I have made.""As how, sir?""I find in the report of the Chief of the Police for the year 1850that Kate Howard was under the protection of a man named Arguello."The colonel's exaggeration instantly left him. He stared blanklyat Paul. "And you call this a laughing matter, sir?" he saidsternly, but in his more natural manner."Perhaps not, but I don't think, if you will allow me to say so, mydear colonel, that you have been treating the whole affair veryseriously. I left you two months ago utterly opposed to viewswhich you are now treating as of no importance. And yet you wishme to believe that nothing has happened, and that you have nofurther information than you had then. That this is so, and thatyou are really no nearer the facts, I am willing to believe fromyour ignorance of what I have just told you, and your concern atit. But that you have not been influenced in your judgment of whatyou do know, I cannot believe?" He drew nearer Pendleton, and laidhis hand upon his arm. "I beg you to be frank with me, for thesake of the person whose interests I see you have at heart. Inwhat way will the discovery I have just made affect them? You arenot so far prejudiced as to be blind to the fact that it may bedangerous because it seems corroborative."Pendleton coughed, rose, took his stick, and limped up and down theroom, finally dropping into an armchair by the window, with hiscane between his knees, and the drooping gray silken threads of hislong moustache curled nervously between his fingers."Mr. Hathaway, I will be frank with you. I know nothing of thisblank affair--blank it all!--but what I've told you. Yourdiscovery may be a coincidence, nothing more. But I have beeninfluenced, sir,--influenced by one of the most perfect goddess-like--yes, sir; one of the most simple girlish creatures that Godever sent upon earth. A woman that I should be proud to claim asmy daughter, a woman that would always be the superior of any manwho dare aspire to be her husband! A young lady as peerless in herbeauty as she is in her accomplishments, and whose equal don't walkthis planet! I know, sir, you don't follow me; I know, Mr.Hathaway, your Puritan prejudices; your Church proclivities, yourworldly sense of propriety; and, above all, sir, the blankedhypocritical Pharisaic doctrines of your party--I mean no offenseto you, sir, personally--blind you to that girl's perfections.She, poor child, herself has seen it and felt it, but never, in herblameless innocence and purity, suspecting the cause, 'There is,'she said to me last night, confidentially, 'something strangelyantagonistic and repellent in our natures, some undefined andnameless barrier between our ever understanding each other.' Youcomprehend, Mr. Hathaway, she does full justice to your intentionsand your unquestioned abilities. 'I am not blind,' she said, 'toMr. Hathaway's gifts, and it is very possible the fault lies withme.' Her very words, sir.""Then you believe she is perfectly ignorant of her real mother?"asked Paul, with a steady voice, but a whitening face."As an unborn child," said the colonel, emphatically. "The snow onthe Sierras is not more spotlessly pure of any trace orcontamination of the mud of the mining ditches, than she of hermother and her past. The knowledge of it, the mere breath ofsuspicion of it, in her presence would be a profanation, sir! Lookat her eye--open as the sky and as clear; look at her face andfigure--as clean, sir, as a Blue-Grass thoroughbred! Look at theway she carries herself, whether in those white frillings of hersimple school-gown, or that black evening dress that makes her looklike a princess! And, blank me, if she isn't one! There's no poorstock there--no white trash--no mixed blood, sir. Blank it all,sir, if it comes to that--the Arguellos--if there's a hound of themliving--might go down on their knees to have their name borne bysuch a creature! By the Eternal, sir, if one of them dared tocross her path with a word that wasn't abject--yes, sir, abject,I'd wipe his dust off the earth and send it back to his ancestorsbefore he knew where he was, or my name isn't Harry Pendleton!"Hopeless and inconsistent as all this was, it was a wonderful sightto see the colonel, his dark stern face illuminated with a zealot'senthusiasm, his eyes on fire, the ends of his gray moustachecurling around his set jaw, his head thrown back, his legs astride,and his gold-headed stick held in the hollow of his elbow, like alance at rest! Paul saw it, and knew that this Quixotictransformation was part of her triumph, and yet had a miserableconsciousness that the charms of this Dulcinea del Toboso hadscarcely been exaggerated. He turned his eyes away, and saidquietly,--"Then you don't think this coincidence will ever awaken anysuspicion in regard to her real mother?""Not in the least, sir--not in the least," said the colonel, yet,perhaps, with more doggedness than conviction of accent. "Nobodybut yourself would ever notice that police report, and theconnection of that woman's name with his was not notorious, or Ishould have known it.""And you believe," continued Paul hopelessly, "that Miss Yerba'sselection of the name was purely accidental?""Purely--a school-girl's fancy. Fancy, did I say? No, sir; byJove, an inspiration!""And," continued Paul, almost mechanically, "you do not think itmay be some insidious suggestion of an enemy who knew of thistransient relation that no one suspected?"To his final amazement Pendleton's brow cleared! "An enemy? Gad!you may be right. I'll look into it; and, if that is the case,which I scarcely dare hope for, Mr. Hathaway, you can safely leavehim to me."He looked so supremely confident in his fatuous heroism that Paulcould say no more. He rose and, with a faint smile upon his paleface, held out his hand. "I think that is all I have to say. Whenyou see Miss Yerba again,--as you will, no doubt,--you may tell herthat I am conscious of no misunderstanding on my part, except,perhaps, as to the best way I could serve her, and that, but forwhat she has told you, I should certainly have carried away noremembrance of any misunderstanding of hers.""Certainly," said the colonel, with cheerful philosophy, "I willcarry your message with pleasure. You understand how it is, Mr.Hathaway. There is no accounting for these instincts--we can onlyaccept them as they are. But I believe that your intentions, sir,were strictly according to what you conceived to be your duty. Youwon't take something before you go? Well, then--good-by."Two weeks later Paul found among his morning letters an envelopeaddressed in Colonel Pendleton's boyish scrawling hand. He openedit with an eagerness that no studied self-control nor rigidpreoccupation of his duties had yet been able to subdue, andglanced hurriedly at its contents:--Dear Sir,--As I am on the point of sailing to Europe to-morrow toescort Miss Arguello and Miss Woods on an extended visit to Englandand the Continent, I am desirous of informing you that I have thusfar been unable to find any foundation for the suggestions thrownout by you in our last interview. Miss Arguello's Spanishacquaintances have been very select, and limited to a few schoolfriends and Don Caesar and Dona Anna Briones, tried friends, whoare also fellow-passengers with us to Europe. Miss Arguellosuggests that some political difference between you and Don Caesar,which occurred during your visit to Rosario three months ago, mayhave, perhaps, given rise to your supposition. She joins me inbest wishes for your public career, which even in the distractionof foreign travel and the obligations of her position she willfollow from time to time with the greatest interest.Very respectfully yours,Harry Pendleton.