Book: A Ward of the Golden Gate

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It struck Paul, perhaps unreasonably, that the colonel's
indifference and digression were both a little assumed, and he
asked abruptly,--

"And you fulfilled your mission?"

"I made the formal transfer, with the Mayor, of the property to
Miss Arguello."

"To Miss Arguello?"

"To the Dona Maria Concepcion de Arguello de la Yerba Buena--to
speak precisely," said the colonel, slowly. "George, you can take
that hat to that blank hatter--what's his blanked name? I read it
only yesterday in a list of the prominent citizens here--and tell
him, with my compliments, that I want a GENTLEMAN'S mourning band
around my hat, and not a child's shoelace. It may be HIS idea of
the value of his own parents--if he ever had any--but I don't care
for 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 of
whiskey, and holding it in his hand, said:--

"My dear Hathaway, let us understand each other. As a gentleman, I
have made a point through life never to question the age, name, or
family of any lady of my acquaintance. Miss Yerba Buena came of
age yesterday, and, as she is no longer my ward, she is certainly
entitled 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's
ordinary manner, it struck Paul as being only an imitation of his
usual frank independence, and made him uneasily conscious of some
vague desertion on Pendleton's part. He fixed his bright eyes on
his host, who was ostentatiously sipping his liquor, and said:--

"Am I to understand that you have heard nothing more from Miss
Yerba, either for or against her story? That you still do not know
whether she has deceived herself, has been deceived by others, or
is deceiving us?"

"After what I have just told you, Mr. Hathaway," said the colonel,
with an increased exaggeration of manner which Paul thought must be
apparent even to himself, "I should have but one way of dealing
with questions of that kind from anybody but yourself."

This culminating extravagance--taken in connection with Pendleton's
passing doubts--actually forced a laugh from Paul in spite of his
bitterness.

Colonel Pendleton's face flushed quickly. Like most positive one-
idea'd men, he was restricted from any possible humorous
combination, and only felt a mysterious sense of being detected in
some weakness. He put down his glass.

"Mr. Hathaway," he began, with a slight vibration in his usual
dominant accents, "you have lately put me under a sense of personal
obligation for a favor which I felt I could accept without
derogation from a younger man, because it seemed to be one not only
of youthful generosity but of justice, and was not unworthy the
exalted ambition of a young man like yourself or the simple deserts
of 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 the
spontaneous offering of your own heart. If I have presumed upon it
to express myself freely on other matters in a way that only
excites your ridicule, I can but offer you an apology, sir. If I
have accepted a favor I can neither renounce nor return, I must
take the consequences to myself, and even beg YOU, sir, to put up
with them."

Remorseful as Paul felt, there was a singular resemblance between
the previous reproachful pose of George and this present attitude
of his master, as if the mere propinquity of personal sacrifice had
made them alike, that struck him with a mingled pathos and
ludicrousness. But he said warmly, "It is I who must apologize, my
dear colonel. I am not laughing at your conclusions, but at this
singular coincidence with a discovery I have made."

"As how, sir?"

"I find in the report of the Chief of the Police for the year 1850
that Kate Howard was under the protection of a man named Arguello."

The colonel's exaggeration instantly left him. He stared blankly
at Paul. "And you call this a laughing matter, sir?" he said
sternly, but in his more natural manner.

"Perhaps not, but I don't think, if you will allow me to say so, my
dear colonel, that YOU have been treating the whole affair very
seriously. I left you two months ago utterly opposed to views
which you are now treating as of no importance. And yet you wish
me to believe that nothing has happened, and that you have no
further information than you had then. That this is so, and that
you are really no nearer the FACTS, I am willing to believe from
your ignorance of what I have just told you, and your concern at
it. But that you have not been influenced in your JUDGMENT of what
you do know, I cannot believe?" He drew nearer Pendleton, and laid
his hand upon his arm. "I beg you to be frank with me, for the
sake of the person whose interests I see you have at heart. In
what way will the discovery I have just made affect them? You are
not so far prejudiced as to be blind to the fact that it may be
dangerous because it seems corroborative."

Pendleton coughed, rose, took his stick, and limped up and down the
room, finally dropping into an armchair by the window, with his
cane between his knees, and the drooping gray silken threads of his
long moustache curled nervously between his fingers.

"Mr. Hathaway, I WILL be frank with you. I know nothing of this
blank affair--blank it all!--but what I've told you. Your
discovery may be a coincidence, nothing more. But I HAVE been
influenced, sir,--influenced by one of the most perfect goddess-
like--yes, sir; one of the most simple girlish creatures that God
ever sent upon earth. A woman that I should be proud to claim as
my daughter, a woman that would always be the superior of any man
who dare aspire to be her husband! A young lady as peerless in her
beauty as she is in her accomplishments, and whose equal don't walk
this planet! I know, sir, YOU don't follow me; I know, Mr.
Hathaway, your Puritan prejudices; your Church proclivities, your
worldly sense of propriety; and, above all, sir, the blanked
hypocritical Pharisaic doctrines of your party--I mean no offense
to YOU, sir, personally--blind you to that girl's perfections.
She, poor child, herself has seen it and felt it, but never, in her
blameless innocence and purity, suspecting the cause, 'There is,'
she said to me last night, confidentially, 'something strangely
antagonistic and repellent in our natures, some undefined and
nameless barrier between our ever understanding each other.' You
comprehend, Mr. Hathaway, she does full justice to your intentions
and your unquestioned abilities. 'I am not blind,' she said, 'to
Mr. Hathaway's gifts, and it is very possible the fault lies with
me.' 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 on
the Sierras is not more spotlessly pure of any trace or
contamination of the mud of the mining ditches, than she of her
mother and her past. The knowledge of it, the mere breath of
suspicion of it, in her presence would be a profanation, sir! Look
at her eye--open as the sky and as clear; look at her face and
figure--as clean, sir, as a Blue-Grass thoroughbred! Look at the
way she carries herself, whether in those white frillings of her
simple school-gown, or that black evening dress that makes her look
like a princess! And, blank me, if she isn't one! There's no poor
stock 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 them
living--might go down on their knees to have their name borne by
such a creature! By the Eternal, sir, if one of them dared to
cross 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 ancestors
before he knew where he was, or my name isn't Harry Pendleton!"

Hopeless and inconsistent as all this was, it was a wonderful sight
to see the colonel, his dark stern face illuminated with a zealot's
enthusiasm, his eyes on fire, the ends of his gray moustache
curling around his set jaw, his head thrown back, his legs astride,
and his gold-headed stick held in the hollow of his elbow, like a
lance at rest! Paul saw it, and knew that this Quixotic
transformation was part of HER triumph, and yet had a miserable
consciousness that the charms of this Dulcinea del Toboso had
scarcely been exaggerated. He turned his eyes away, and said
quietly,--

"Then you don't think this coincidence will ever awaken any
suspicion 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. "Nobody
but yourself would ever notice that police report, and the
connection of that woman's name with his was not notorious, or I
should have known it."

"And you believe," continued Paul hopelessly, "that Miss Yerba's
selection of the name was purely accidental?"

"Purely--a school-girl's fancy. Fancy, did I say? No, sir; by
Jove, an inspiration!"

"And," continued Paul, almost mechanically, "you do not think it
may be some insidious suggestion of an enemy who knew of this
transient 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 leave
him to ME."

He looked so supremely confident in his fatuous heroism that Paul
could say no more. He rose and, with a faint smile upon his pale
face, held out his hand. "I think that is all I have to say. When
you see Miss Yerba again,--as you will, no doubt,--you may tell her
that I am conscious of no misunderstanding on my part, except,
perhaps, as to the best way I could serve her, and that, but for
what she has told YOU, I should certainly have carried away no
remembrance of any misunderstanding of HERS."

"Certainly," said the colonel, with cheerful philosophy, "I will
carry your message with pleasure. You understand how it is, Mr.
Hathaway. There is no accounting for these instincts--we can only
accept them as they are. But I believe that your intentions, sir,
were strictly according to what you conceived to be your duty. You
won't take something before you go? Well, then--good-by."

Two weeks later Paul found among his morning letters an envelope
addressed in Colonel Pendleton's boyish scrawling hand. He opened
it with an eagerness that no studied self-control nor rigid
preoccupation of his duties had yet been able to subdue, and
glanced hurriedly at its contents:--


DEAR SIR,--As I am on the point of sailing to Europe to-morrow to
escort Miss Arguello and Miss Woods on an extended visit to England
and the Continent, I am desirous of informing you that I have thus
far been unable to find any foundation for the suggestions thrown
out by you in our last interview. Miss Arguello's Spanish
acquaintances have been very select, and limited to a few school
friends and Don Caesar and Dona Anna Briones, tried friends, who
are also fellow-passengers with us to Europe. Miss Arguello
suggests that some political difference between you and Don Caesar,
which occurred during your visit to Rosario three months ago, may
have, perhaps, given rise to your supposition. She joins me in
best wishes for your public career, which even in the distraction
of foreign travel and the obligations of her position she will
follow from time to time with the greatest interest.

Very respectfully yours,

HARRY PENDLETON.



CHAPTER V.


It was on the 3d of August, 1863, that Paul Hathaway resigned
himself and his luggage to the care of the gold-laced, ostensible
porter of the Strudle Bad Hof, not without some uncertainty, in a
land of uniforms, whether he would be eventually conducted to the
barracks, the police office, or the Conservatoire. He was relieved
when the omnibus drove into the courtyard of the Bad Hof, and the
gold-chained chamberlain, flanked by two green tubs of oleanders,
received him with a gravity calculated to check any preconceived
idea he might have that traveling was a trifling affair, or that an
arrival at the Bad Hof was not of serious moment. His letters had
not yet arrived, for he had, in a fit of restlessness, shortened
his route, and he strolled listlessly into the reading-room. Two
or three English guests were evidently occupied in eminently
respectable reading and writing; two were sitting by the window
engaged in subdued but profitable conversation; and two Americans
from Boston were contentedly imitating them on the other side of
the room. A decent restraint, as of people who were not for a
moment to be led into any foreign idea of social gayety at a
watering-place, was visible everywhere. A spectacled Prussian
officer in full uniform passed along the hall, halted for a moment
at the doorway as if contemplating an armed invasion, thought
better of it, and took his uniform away into the sunlight of the
open square, where it was joined by other uniforms, and became by
contrast a miracle of unbraced levity. Paul stood the Polar
silence for a few moments, until one of the readers arose and,
taking his book--a Murray--in his hand, walked slowly across the
room to a companion, mutely pointed to a passage in the book,
remained silent until the other had dumbly perused it, and then
walked back again to his seat, having achieved the incident without
a word. At which Paul, convinced of his own incongruity, softly
withdrew with his hat in his hand, and his eyes fixed devotionally
upon it.

It was good after that to get into the slanting sunlight and
checkered linden shadows of the Allee; to see even a tightly
jacketed cavalryman naturally walking with Clarchen and her two
round-faced and drab-haired young charges; to watch the returning
invalid procession, very real and very human, each individual
intensely involved in the atmosphere of his own symptoms; and very
good after that to turn into the Thiergarten, where the animals,
were, however, chiefly of his own species, and shamelessly and
openly amusing themselves. It was pleasant to contrast it with his
first visit to the place three months before, and correct his crude
impressions. And it was still more pleasant suddenly to recognize,
under the round flat cap of a general officer, a former traveler
who was fond of talking with him about America with an intelligence
and understanding of it that Paul had often missed among his own
traveled countrymen. It was pleasant to hear his unaffected and
simple greeting, to renew their old acquaintance, and to saunter
back to the hotel together through the long twilight.

They were only a few squares from the hotel, when Paul's attention
was attracted by the curiosity and delight of two or three children
before him, who appeared to be following a quaint-looking figure
that was evidently not unfamiliar to them. It appeared to be a
servant in a striking livery of green with yellow facings and
crested silver buttons, but still more remarkable for the
indescribable mingling of jaunty ease and conscious dignity with
which he carried off his finery. There was something so singular
and yet so vaguely reminiscent in his peculiar walk and the
exaggerated swing of his light bamboo cane that Paul could not only
understand the childish wonder of the passers-by, who turned to
look after him, but was stirred with a deeper curiosity. He
quickened his pace, but was unable to distinguish anything of the
face or features of the stranger, except that his hair under his
cocked hat appeared to be tightly curled and powdered. Paul's
companion, who was amused at what seemed to be the American's
national curiosity, had seen the figure before. "A servant in the
suite of some Eastern Altesse visiting the baths. You will see
stranger things, my friend, in the Strudle Bad. Par example, your
own countrymen, too; the one who has enriched himself by that pork
of Chicago, or that soap, or this candle, in a carriage with the
crest of the title he has bought in Italy with his dollars, and his
beautiful daughters, who are seeking more titles with possible
matrimonial contingencies."

After an early dinner, Paul found his way to the little theatre.
He had already been struck by a highly colored poster near the
Bahnhof, purporting that a distinguished German company would give
a representation of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and certain peculiarities
in the pictorial advertisement of the tableaux gave promise of some
entertainment. He found the theatre fairly full; there was the
usual contingent of abonnirte officers, a fair sprinkling of
English and German travelers, but apparently none of his own
countrymen. He had no time to examine the house more closely, for
the play, commencing with simple punctuality, not only far exceeded
the promise of the posters, but of any previous performance of the
play he had witnessed. Transported at once to a gorgeous tropical
region--the slave States of America--resplendent with the fruits
and palms of Mauritius, and peopled exclusively with Paul and
Virginia's companions in striped cotton, Hathaway managed to keep a
composed face, until the arrival of the good Southern planter St.
Clair as one of the earlier portraits of Goethe, in top boots,
light kerseymere breeches, redingote and loose Byron collar,
compelled him to shrink into the upper corner of the box with his
handkerchief to his face. Luckily, the action passed as the
natural effect upon a highly sympathetic nature of religious
interviews between a round-faced flaxen-haired "Kleine Eva" and
"Onkeel Tome," occasionally assisted by a Dissenting clergyman in
Geneva bands; of excessive brutality with a cattle whip by a
Zamiel-like Legree; of the sufferings of a runaway negro
Zimmermadchen with a child three shades lighter than herself; and
of a painted canvas "man-hunt," where apparently four well known
German composers on horseback, with flowing hair, top boots, and a
Cor de chasse, were pursuing, with the aid of a pack of fox hounds,
"the much too deeply abused and yet spiritually elevated Onkeel
Tome." Paul did not wait for the final apotheosis of "der Kleine
Eva," but, in the silence of a hushed audience, made his way into
the corridor and down the staircase. He was passing an open door
marked "Direction," when his attention was sharply attracted by a
small gathering around it and the sounds of indignant declamation.
It was the voice of a countryman--more than that, it was a familiar
voice, that he had not heard for three years--the voice of Colonel
Harry Pendleton!

"Tell him," said Pendleton, in scathing tones, to some invisible
interpreter,--"tell, him, sir, that a more infamous caricature of
the blankest caricature that ever maligned a free people, sir, I
never before had the honor of witnessing. Tell him that I, sir--I,
Harry Pendleton, of Kentucky, a Southerner, sir--an old
slaveholder, sir, declare it to be a tissue of falsehoods unworthy
the credence of a Christian civilization like this--unworthy the
attention of the distinguished ladies and gentlemen that are
gathered here to-night. Tell him, sir, he has been imposed upon.
Tell him I am responsible--give him my card and address--personally
responsible for what I say. If he wants proofs--blank it all!--
tell him you yourself have been a slave--MY slave, sir! Take off
your hat, sir! Ask him to look at you--ask him if he thinks you
ever looked or could look like that lop-eared, psalm-singing,
white-headed hypocrite on the stage! Ask him, sir, if he thinks
that blank ringmaster they call St. Clair looks like ME!"

At this astounding exordium Paul eagerly pressed forward and
entered the bureau. There certainly was Colonel Pendleton, in
spotless evening dress; erect, flashing, and indignant; his
aquiline nose lifted like a hawk's beak over his quarry, his iron-
gray moustache, now white and waxed, parted like a swallow's tail
over his handsome mouth, and between him and the astounded
"Direction" stood the apparition of the Allee--George! There was
no mistaking him now. What Paul had thought was a curled wig or
powder was the old negro's own white knotted wool, and the
astounding livery he wore was carried off as no one but George
could carry it.

But he was still more amazed when the old servant, in a German as
exaggerated, as incoherent, but still as fluent and persuasive as
his own native speech, began an extravagant but perfectly dignified
and diplomatic translation of his master's protests. Where and
when, by what instinct, he had assimilated and made his own the
grotesque inversions and ponderous sentimentalities of Teutonic
phrasing, Paul could not guess; but it was with breathless wonder
that he presently became aware that, so perfect and convincing was
the old man's style and deportment, not only the simple officials
but even the bystanders were profoundly impressed by this farrago
of absurdity. A happy word here and there, the full title and rank
given, even with a slight exaggeration, to each individual, brought
a deep and guttural "So!" from lips that would have found it
difficult to repeat a line of his ceremonious idiocy.

In their preoccupation neither the colonel nor George had perceived
Paul's entrance, but, as the old servant turned with magnificent
courtesy towards the bystanders, his eyes fell upon Paul. A flash
of surprise, triumph, and satisfaction lit up his rolling eyes.
Paul instantly knew that he not only recognized him, but that he
had already heard of and thoroughly appreciated a certain
distinguished position that Paul had lately held, and was quick to
apply it. Intensifying for a moment the grandiloquence of his
manner, he called upon his master's most distinguished and happily
arrived old friend, the Lord Lieutenant Governor of the Golden
Californias, to corroborate his statement. Colonel Pendleton
started, and grasped Paul's hand warmly. Paul turned to the
already half-mollified Director with the diplomatic suggestion that
the vivid and realistic acting of the admirable company which he
himself had witnessed had perhaps unduly excited his old friend,
even as it had undoubtedly thrown into greater relief the usual
exaggerations of dramatic representation, and the incident
terminated with a profusion of apologies, and the most cordial
expressions of international good feeling on both sides.

Yet, as they turned away from the theatre together, Paul could not
help noticing that, although the colonel's first greeting had been
spontaneous and unaffected, it was succeeded by an uneasy reserve.
Paul made no attempt to break it, and confined himself to a few
general inquiries, ending by inviting the colonel to sup with him
at the hotel. Pendleton hesitated. "At any other time, Mr.
Hathaway, I should have insisted upon you, as the stranger, supping
with me; but since the absence of--of--the rest of my party--I have
given up my suite of rooms at the Bad Hof, and have taken smaller
lodgings for myself and the boy at the Schwartze Adler. Miss Woods
and Miss Arguello have accepted an invitation to spend a few days
at the villa of the Baron and Baroness von Schilprecht--an hour or
two from here." He lingered over the title with an odd mingling of
impressiveness and inquiry, and glanced at Paul. But Hathaway
exhibiting neither emotion nor surprise at the mention of Yerba's
name or the title of her host, he continued, "Miss Arguello, I
suppose you know, is immensely admired: she has been, sir, the
acknowledged belle of Strudle Bad."

"I can readily believe it," said Paul, simply.

"And has taken the position--the position, sir, to which she is
entitled."

Without appearing to notice the slight challenge in Pendleton's
tone, Paul returned, "I am glad to hear it. The more particularly
as, I believe, the Germans are great sticklers for position and
pedigree."

"You are right, sir--quite right: they are," said the colonel,
proudly--"although"--with a certain premeditated deliberation--"I
have been credibly informed that the King can, in certain cases, if
he chooses, supply--yes, sir--SUPPLY a favored person with
ancestors--yes, sir, with ANCESTORS!"

Paul cast a quick glance at his companion.

"Yes, sir--that is, we will say, in the case of a lady of inferior
rank--or even birth, the King of these parts can, on her marriage
with a nobleman--blank it all!--ennoble her father and mother, and
their fathers and mothers, though they've been dead, or as good as
dead, for years."

"I am afraid that's a slight exaggeration of the rare custom of
granting 'noble lands,' or estates that carry hereditary titles
with them," said Paul, more emphatically, perhaps, than the
occasion demanded.

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