Book: A Ward of the Golden Gate

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"Fact, sir--George there knows it all," said Pendleton. "He gets
it from the other servants. I don't speak the language, sir, but
HE does. Picked it up in a year."

"I must compliment him on his fluency, certainly," said Paul,
looking at George.

The old servant smiled, and not without a certain condescension.
"Yes, sah; I don' say to a scholar like yo'self, sah, dat I'se got
de grandmatical presichion; but as fah, sah--as fah as de IDIOTISMS
ob de language goes. Sah--it's gen'lly allowed I'm dar! As to
what Marse Harry says ob de ignobling ob predecessors, I've had it,
sah, from de best autority, sah--de furst, I may say, sah--de real
prima facie men--de gemplum ob his Serene Highness, in de korse eb
ordinary conversashun, sah."

"That'll do, George," said Pendleton, with paternal brusqueness.
"Run on ahead and tell that blank chamberlain that Mr. Hathaway is
one of my friends--and have supper accordingly." As the negro
hastened away he turned to Paul: "What he says is true: he's the
most popular man or boy in all Strudle Bad--a devilish sight more
than his master--and goes anywhere where I can't go. Princes and
princesses stop and talk to him in the street; the Grand Duke asked
permission to have him up in his carriage at the races the other
day; and, by the Eternal, sir, he gives the style to all the
flunkeys in town!"

"And I see, he dresses the character," observed Paul.

"His own idea--entirely. And, by Jove! he proves to be right. You
can't do anything here without a uniform. And they tell me he's
got everything correct, down to the crest on the buttons."

They walked on in silence for a few moments, Pendleton retaining a
certain rigidity of step and bearing which Paul had come to
recognize as indicating some uneasiness or mental disturbance on
his part. Hathaway had no intention of precipitating the
confidence of his companion. Perhaps experience had told him it
would come soon enough. So he spoke carelessly of himself. How
the need of a year's relaxation and change had brought him abroad,
his journeyings, and, finally, how he had been advised by his
German physician to spend a few weeks at Strudle Bad preparatory to
the voyage home. Yet he was perfectly aware that the colonel from
time to time cast a furtive glance at his face. "And YOU," he said
in conclusion--"when do you intend to return to California?"

The colonel hesitated slightly. "I shall remain in Europe until
Miss Arguello is settled--I mean," he added hurriedly, "until she
has--ahem!--completed her education in foreign ways and customs.
You see, Hathaway, I have constituted myself, after a certain
fashion, I may say--still, her guardian. I am an old man, with
neither kith nor kin myself, sir--I'm a little too old-fashioned
for the boys over there"--with a vague gesture towards the west,
which, however, told Paul how near it still was to him. "But then,
among the old fogys here--blank it all!--it isn't noticed. So I
look after her, you see, or rather make myself responsible for her
generally--although, of course, she has other friends and
associates, you understand, more of her own age and tastes."

"And I've no doubt she's perfectly satisfied," said Paul in a tone
of conviction.

"Well, yes, sir, I presume so," said the colonel slowly; "but I've
sometimes thought, Mr. Hathaway, that it would have been better if
she'd have had a woman's care--the protection you understand, of an
elderly woman of society. That seems to be the style here, you
know--a chaperon, they call it. Now, Milly Woods, you see, is
about the same age, and the Dona Anna, of course, is older, but--
blank it!--she's as big a flirt as the rest--I mean," he added,
correcting himself sharply, "she lacks balance, sir, and--what
shall I call it?--self-abnegation."

"Then Dona Anna is still of your party?" asked Paul.

"She is, sir, and her brother, Don Caesar. I have thought it
advisable, on Yerba's account, to keep up as much as possible the
suggestion of her Spanish relationship--although by reason of their
absurd ignorance of geography and political divisions out here,
there is a prevailing impression that she is a South American. A
fact, sir. I have myself been mistaken for the Dictator of one of
these infernal Republics, and I have been pointed out as ruling
over a million or two of niggers like George!"

There was no trace of any conception of humor in the colonel's
face, although he uttered a short laugh, as if in polite acceptance
of the possibility that Paul might have one. Far from that, his
companion, looking at the striking profile and erect figure at his
side--at the long white moustache which drooped from his dark
cheeks, and remembering his own sensations at first seeing George--
thought the popular belief not so wonderful. He was even forced to
admit that the perfect unconsciousness on the part of master and
man of any incongruity or peculiarity in themselves assisted the
public misconception. And it was, I fear, with a feeling of wicked
delight that, on entering the hotel, he hailed the evident
consternation of those correct fellow-countrymen from whom he had
lately fled, at what they apparently regarded as a national
scandal. He overheard their hurried assurance to their English
friends that his companions were NOT from Boston, and enjoyed their
mortification that this explanation did not seem to detract from
the interest and relief with which the Britons surveyed them, or
the open admiration of the Germans.

Although Pendleton somewhat unbent during supper, he did not allude
to the secret of Yerba's parentage, nor of any tardy confidence of
hers. To all appearance the situation remained as it was three
years ago. He spoke of her great popularity as an heiress and a
beautiful woman, and the marked attentions she received. He
doubted not that she had rejected very distinguished offers, but
she kept that to herself. She was perfectly competent to do so.
She was no giddy girl, to be flattered or deceived; on the
contrary, he had never known a cooler or more sensible woman. She
knew her own worth. When she met the man who satisfied her
ambition and understanding, she would marry, and not before. He
did not know what that ambition was; it was something exalted, of
course. He could only say, of his own knowledge, that last year,
when they were on the Italian lakes, there was a certain prince--
Mr. Hathaway would understand why he did not mention names--who was
not only attentive to her, but attentive to HIM, sir, by Jove! and
most significant in his inquiries. It was the only occasion when
he, the colonel, had ever spoken to her on such subjects; and,
knowing that she was not indifferent to the fellow, who was not bad
of his kind, he had asked her why she had not encouraged his suit.
She had said, with a laugh, that he couldn't marry her unless he
gave up his claim of succession to a certain reigning house; and
she wouldn't accept him WITHOUT IT. Those were her words, sir, and
he could only say that the prince left a few days afterwards, and
they had never seen him since. As to the princelings and counts
and barons, she knew to a day the date of their patents of
nobility, and what privileges they were entitled to; she could tell
to a dot the value of their estates, the amount of their debts,
and, by Jove! sir, the amount of mortgages she was expected to pay
off before she married them. She knew the amount of income she had
to bring to the Prussian Army, from the general to the lieutenant.
She understood her own value and her rights. There was a young
English lordling she met on the Rhine, whose boyish ways and
simplicity seemed to please her. They were great friends; but he
wanted him--the colonel--to induce her to accept an invitation for
both to visit his mother's home in England, that his people might
see her. But she declined, sir! She declined to pass in review
before his mother. She said it was for HIM to pass in review
before HER mother.

"Did she say that?" interrupted Paul, fixing his bright eyes upon
the colonel.

"If she had one, if she had one," corrected the colonel, hastily.
"Of course it was only an illustration. That she is an orphan is
generally known, sir."

There was a dead silence for a few moments. The colonel leaned
back in his chair and pulled his moustache. Paul turned away his
eyes, and seemed absorbed in reflection. After a moment the
colonel coughed, pushed aside his glass, and, leaning across the
table, said, "I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Hathaway."

There was such a singular change in the tone of his voice, an
unexpected relaxation of some artificial tension,--a relaxation
which struck Paul so pathetically as being as much physical as
mental, as if he had suddenly been overtaken in some exertion by
the weakness of age,--that he looked up quickly. Certainly,
although still erect and lightly grasping his moustache, the
colonel looked older.

"By all means, my dear colonel," said Paul warmly.

"During the time you remain here you can hardly help meeting Miss
Arguello, perhaps frequently. It would be strange if you did not;
it would appear to everybody still stranger. Give me your word as
a gentleman that you will not make the least allusion to her of the
past--nor reopen the subject."

Paul looked fixedly at the colonel. "I certainly had no intention
of doing so," he said after a pause, "for I thought it was already
settled by you beyond disturbance or discussion. But do I
understand you, that SHE has shown any uneasiness regarding it?
From what you have just told me of her plans and ambition, I can
scarcely imagine that she has any suspicion of the real facts."

"Certainly not," said the colonel hurriedly. "But I have your
promise."

"I promise you," said Paul, after a pause, "that I shall neither
introduce nor refer to the subject myself, and that if SHE should
question me again regarding it, which is hardly possible, I will
reveal nothing without your consent."

"Thank you," said Pendleton, without, however, exhibiting much
relief in his face. "She will return here to-morrow."

"I thought you said she was absent for some days," said Paul.

"Yes; but she is coming back to say good-by to Dona Anna, who
arrives here with her brother the same day, on their way to Paris."

It flashed through Paul's mind that the last time he had seen her
was in the company of the Briones. It was not a pleasant
coincidence. Yet he was not aware that it had affected him, until
he saw the colonel watching him.

"I believe you don't fancy the brother," said Pendleton.

For an instant Paul was strongly tempted to avow his old vague
suspicions of Don Caesar, but the utter hopelessness of reopening
the whole subject again, and his recollection of the passage in
Pendleton's letter that purported to be Yerba's own theory of his
dislike, checked him in time. He only said, "I don't remember
whether I had any cause for disliking Don Caesar; I can tell better
when I see him again," and changed the subject. A few moments
later the colonel summoned George from some lower region of the
hotel, and rose to take his leave. "Miss Arguello, with her maid
and courier, will occupy her old suite of rooms here," he remarked,
with a return of his old imperiousness. "George has given the
orders for her. I shall not change my present lodgings, but of
course will call every day. Goodnight!"


CHAPTER VI.


The next morning Paul could not help noticing an increased and even
exaggerated respect paid him by the hotel attendants. He was asked
if his EXCELLENCY would he served with breakfast in a private room,
and his condescension in selecting the public coffee-room struck
the obsequious chamberlain, but did not prevent him from preceding
Paul backwards to the table, and summoning a waiter to attend
specially upon "milor." Surmising that George and the colonel
might be in some way connected with this extravagance, he postponed
an investigation till he should have seen them again. And,
although he hardly dared to confess it to himself, the unexpected
prospect of meeting Yerba again fully preoccupied his thoughts. He
had believed that he would eventually see her in Europe, in some
vague and indefinite way and hour: it had been in his mind when he
started from California. That it would be so soon, and in such a
simple and natural manner, he had never conceived.

"He had returned from his morning walk to the Brunnen, and was
sitting idly in his room, when there was a knock at the door. It
opened to a servant bearing a salver with a card. Paul lifted it
with a slight tremor, not at the engraved name of "Maria Concepcion
de Arguellos de la Yerba Buena," but at the remembered school-girl
hand that had penciled underneath the words, "wishes the favor of
an audience with his Excellency the Lord Lieutenant-Governor of the
Californias."

Paul looked inquiringly at the servant. "The gnadige Fraulein was
in her own salon. Would EXCELLENCY walk that way? It was but a
step; in effect, the next apartment."

Paul followed him into the hall with wondering steps. The door of
the next room was open, and disclosed a handsomely furnished salon.
A tall graceful figure rose quickly from behind a writing-table,
and advanced with outstretched hands and a frank yet mischievous
smile. It was Yerba.

Standing there in a grayish hat, mantle, and traveling dress, all
of one subdued yet alluring tone, she looked as beautiful as when
he had last seen her--and yet--unlike. For a brief bitter moment
his instincts revolted at this familiar yielding up in his fair
countrywomen of all that was distinctively original in them to
alien tastes and habits, and he resented the plastic yet
characterless mobility which made Yerba's Parisian dress and
European manner fit her so charmingly and yet express so little.
For a brief critical moment he remembered the placid, unchanging
simplicity of German, and the inflexible and ingrained reserve of
English, girlhood, in opposition to this indistinctive cosmopolitan
grace. But only for a moment. As soon as she spoke, a certain
flavor of individuality seemed to return to her speech.

"Confess," she said, "it was a courageous thing for me to do. You
might have been somebody else--a real Excellency--or heaven knows
what! Or, what is worse in your new magnificence, you might have
forgotten one of your oldest, most humble, but faithful subjects."
She drew back and made him a mock ceremonious curtsy, that even in
its charming exaggeration suggested to Paul, however, that she had
already made it somewhere seriously.

"But what does it all mean?" he asked, smiling, feeling not only
his doubts and uneasiness vanish, but even the years of separation
melt away in her presence. "I know I went to bed last night a very
humble individual, and yet I seem to awaken this morning a very
exalted personage. Am I really Commander of the Faithful, or am I
dreaming? Might I trouble you, as my predecessor Abou Hassan did
Sweetlips, to bite my little finger?"

"Do you mean to say you have not seen the 'Auzeiger?'" she
returned, taking a small German printed sheet from the table and
pointing to a paragraph. Paul took the paper. Certainly there was
the plain announcement among the arrivals of "His Excellency Paul
Hathaway, Lord Lieutenant-Governor of the Californias." A light
flashed upon him.

"This is George's work. He and Colonel Pendleton were here with me
last night."

"Then you have seen the colonel already?" she said, with a scarcely
perceptible alteration of expression, which, however, struck Paul.

"Yes. I met him at the theatre last evening." He was about to
plunge into an animated description of the colonel's indignation,
but checked himself, he knew not why. But he was thankful the next
moment that he had.

"That accounts for everything," she said, lifting her pretty
shoulders with a slight shrug of weariness. "I had to put a step
to George's talking about ME three months ago,--his extravagance is
something TOO awful. And the colonel, who is completely in his
hands,--trusting him for everything, even the language,--doesn't
see it."

"But he is extravagant in the praise of his friends only, and you
certainly justify all he can say."

She was taking off her hat, and stopped for a moment to look at him
thoughtfully, with the soft tendrils of her hair clinging to her
forehead. "Did the colonel talk much about me?"

"A great deal. In fact, I think we talked of nothing else. He has
told me of your triumphs and your victims; of your various
campaigns and your conquests. And yet I dare say he has not told
me all--and I am dying to hear more."

She had laid down her hat and unloosed a large bow of her mantle,
but stopped suddenly in the midst of it and sat down again.

"I wish you'd do something for me."

"You have only to name it."

"Well, drop all this kind of talk! Try to think of me as if I had
just come from California--or, better, as if you had never known
anything of me at all--and we met for the first time. You could, I
dare say, make yourself very agreeable to such a young lady who was
willing to be pleased--why not to me? I venture to say you have
not ever troubled yourself about me since we last met. No--hear me
through--why, then, should you wish to talk over what didn't
concern you at the time? Promise me you will stop this reminiscent
gossip, and I promise you I will not only not bore you with it, but
take care that it is not intruded upon you by others. Make
yourself pleasant to me by talking about yourself and your
prospects--anything but ME--and I will throw over those princes and
barons that the colonel has raved about and devote myself to you
while you are here. Does that suit your Excellency?" She had
crossed her knees, and, with her hands clasped over them, and the
toe of her small boot advanced beyond her skirt, leaned forward in
the attitude he remembered to have seen her take in the summer-
house at Rosario.

"Perfectly," he said.

"How long will you be here?"

"About three weeks: that, I believe, is the time allotted for my
cure."

"Are you really ill," she said quietly, "or imagine yourself so?"

"It amounts to about the same thing. But my cure may not take so
long," he added, fixing his bright eyes upon her.

She returned his gaze thoughtfully, and they remained looking at
each other silently.

"Then you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. That is
very often the case," she said quietly. "There," she added in
another tone, "it is settled. You will come and go as you like,
using this salon as your own. Stay, we can do something today.
What do you say to a ride in the forest this afternoon? Milly
isn't here yet, but it will be quite proper for you to accompany me
on horseback, though, of course, we couldn't walk a hundred yards
down the Allee together unless we were verlobt."

"But," said Paul, "you are expecting company this afternoon. Don
Caesar--I mean Miss Briones and her brother are coming here to say
good-by."

She regarded him curiously, but without emotion.

"Colonel Pendleton should have added that they were to remain here
overnight as my guests," she said composedly. And of course we
shall be back in time for dinner. But that is nothing to you. You
have only to be ready at three o'clock. I will see that the horses
are ordered. I often ride here, and the people know my tastes and
habits. We will have a pleasant ride and a good long talk
together, and I'll show you a ruin and a distant view of the villa
where I have been staying." She held out her hand with a frank
girlish smile, and even a girlish anticipation of pleasure in her
brown eyes. He bent over her slim fingers for a moment, and
withdrew.

When he was in his own room again, he was conscious only of a
strong desire to avoid the colonel until after his ride with Yerba.
He would keep his word so far as to abstain from allusion to her
family or her past: indeed, he had his own opinion of its futility.
But it would be strange if, with his past experience, he could not
find some other way to determine her convictions or win her
confidence during those two hours of companionship. He would
accept her terms fairly; if she had any ulterior design in her
advances, he would detect it; if she had the least concern for him,
she could not continue long an artificial friendship. But he must
not think of that!

By absenting himself from the hotel he managed to keep clear of
Pendleton until the hour arrived. He was gratified to find Yerba
in the simplest and most sensible of habits, as if she had already
divined his tastes and had wished to avoid attracting undue
attention. Nevertheless, it very prettily accented her tall
graceful figure, and Paul, albeit, like most artistic admirers of
the sex, not recognizing a woman on a horse as a particularly
harmonious spectacle, was forced to admire her. Both rode well,
and naturally--having been brought up in the same Western school--
the horses recognized it, and instinctively obeyed them, and their
conversation had the easy deliberation and inflection of a tete-a-
tete. Paul, in view of her previous hint, talked to her of himself
and his fortunes, of which she appeared, however, to have some
knowledge. His health had obliged him lately to abandon politics
and office; he had been successful in some ventures, and had become
a junior partner in a bank with foreign correspondence. She
listened to him for some time with interest and attention, but at
last her face became abstracted and thoughtful. "I wish I were a
man!" she said suddenly.

Paul looked at her quickly. For the first time he detected in the
ring of her voice something of the passionate quality he fancied he
had always seen in her face.

"Except that it might give you better control of your horse, I
don't see why," said Paul. "And I don't entirely believe you."

"Why?"

"Because no woman really wishes to be a man unless she is conscious
of her failure as a woman."

"And how do you know I'm not?" she said, checking her horse and
looking in his face. A quick conviction that she was on the point
of some confession sprang into his mind, but unfortunately showed
in his face. She beat back his eager look with a short laugh.
"There, don't speak, and don't look like that. That remark was
worthy the usual artless maiden's invitation to a compliment,
wasn't it? Let us keep to the subject of yourself. Why, with your
political influence, don't you get yourself appointed to some
diplomatic position over here?"

"There are none in our service. You wouldn't want me to sink
myself in some absurd social functions, which are called by that
name, merely to become the envy and hatred of a few rich
republicans, like your friends who haunt foreign courts?"

"That's not a pretty speech--but I suppose I invited THAT too.
Don't apologize. I'd rather see you flare out like that than pay
compliments. Yet I fancy you're a diplomatist, for all that."

"You did me the honor to believe I was one once, when I was simply
the most palpable ass and bungler living," said Paul bitterly.

She was still sweetly silent, apparently preoccupied in smoothing
out the mane of her walking horse. "Did I?" she said softly. He
drew close beside her.

"How different the vegetation is here from what it is with us!" she
said with nervous quickness, directing his attention to the grass
road beneath them, without lifting her eyes. "I don't mean what is
cultivated,--for I suppose it takes centuries to make the lawns
they have in England,--but even here the blades of grass seem to
press closer together, as if they were crowded or overpopulated,
like the country; and this forest, which has been always wild and
was a hunting park, has a blase look, as if it was already tired of
the unchanging traditions and monotony around it. I think over
there Nature affects and influences us: here, I fancy, it is itself
affected by the people."

"I think a good deal of Nature comes over from America for that
purpose," he said dryly.

"And I think you are breaking your promise--besides being a goose!"
she retorted smartly. Nevertheless, for some occult reason they
both seemed relieved by this exquisite witticism, and trotted on
amicably together. When Paul lifted his eyes to hers he could see
that they were suffused with a tender mischief, as of a reproving
yet secretly admiring sister, and her strangely delicate complexion
had taken on itself that faint Alpine glow that was more of an
illumination than a color. "There," she said gayly, pointing with
her whip as the wood opened upon a glade through which the parted
trees showed a long blue curvature of distant hills, "you see that
white thing lying like a snowdrift on the hills?"

"Or the family washing on a hedge."

"As you please. Well, that is the villa."

"And you were very happy there?" said Paul, watching her girlishly
animated face.

"Yes; and as you don't ask questions, I'll tell you why. There is
one of the sweetest old ladies there that I ever met--the
perfection of old-time courtliness with all the motherishness of a
German woman. She was very kind to me, and, as she had no daughter
of her own, I think she treated me as if I was one. At least, I
can imagine how one would feel to her, and what a woman like that
could make of any girl. You laugh, Mr. Hathaway, you don't
understand--but you don't know what an advantage it would be to a
girl to have a mother like that, and know that she could fall back
on her and hold her own against anybody. She's equipped from the
start, instead of being handicapped. It's all very well to talk
about the value of money. It can give you everything but one
thing--the power to do without it."

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