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diff --git a/39709-h/39709-h.htm b/39709-h/39709-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b26254e --- /dev/null +++ b/39709-h/39709-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6030 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mariposilla, by Mrs. Charles Stewart Daggett. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + p.bold2 {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + h1 span, h2 span { display: block; text-align: center; } + #id1 { font-size: smaller } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + hr.smler { width: 10%; } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 5px; border-collapse: collapse; border: none; text-align: right;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0px; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smaller {font-size: smaller;} + .mynote { background-color: #DDE; color: black; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; } /* colored box for notes at beginning of file */ + .left {text-align: left;} + .tbrk {margin-bottom: 1em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mariposilla, by Mary Stewart Daggett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: Mariposilla + A Novel + +Author: Mary Stewart Daggett + +Release Date: May 16, 2012 [EBook #39709] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARIPOSILLA *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class = "mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> +A Table of Contents has been added.<br /></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<h1><span>MARIPOSILLA<br /><br />A Novel</span><br /> <span id="id1">BY</span> <span>MRS. CHARLES STEWART DAGGETT</span></h1> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<div class="center"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="Decoration" /></div> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="center">CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:<br />RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY.<br />MDCCCXCVI.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">Copyright, 1895, by Rand, McNally & Co.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><span>CONTENTS</span></h2> + +<table summary="CONTENTS"> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER I.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER II.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER III.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER IV.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER V.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER VI.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER VII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER VIII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER IX.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER X.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XI.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XIII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XIV.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XV.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XVI.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XVII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XVIII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XIX.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XX.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XXI.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XXII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="left">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> + <td><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p class="bold2">MARIPOSILLA.</p> + +<hr class="smler" /> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER I.</span></h2> + +<p>When I abandoned the home of my girlhood, and took my delicate child to +California, I started upon the journey goaded only by apathetic hopes, +sustained only by the desperation of despair.</p> + +<p>Marjorie was my all, and I could no longer endure the tension of her +gradual decline. As I watched her fade away, I realized that my closest +friends were becoming reconciled to my bereavement, with the +philosophical fortitude of spectators. When I was coolly advised "not to +sacrifice pecuniary interests for the sentiment of a hopeless +experiment," an outraged love grew strong and defiant. The calculating +counsel, so cruel and unexpected, strengthened, at last, the timid +resolution. Even the silent walls of my house oppressed, while an +absolute hatred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> of the machinery of life seized my tired soul. I +determined to be free at any price. Fresh courage entered my life, and +impelled me to remove, without a pang, most cherished household gods. My +relief was immoderate when everything was gone. Then I experienced for +the first time in years the sweet exhilaration that welcomes, +breathlessly, a change. In my dreams I had apparitions of purple +mountains, and long quiet days purified with sunshine. Suddenly, into my +sad life there came new hope, kindled, it seemed, from the very ashes of +an abortive past.</p> + +<p>Before I realized the initial steps of my undertaking, anticipated +perplexities had been absorbed by the novel conditions of our journey. +Four days away from the old home and New York found me happier than for +months, when I saw for the first time a flush upon the pallid cheeks of +my child, the faintest reflection of the coveted boon I sought.</p> + +<p>A fresh excitement made me strong for each new duty. The present at last +held all that I craved. When I watched my child among her pillows, so +much better that she prattled of great plans to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> carried out on the +far away Coast, I loved even then the land. To see the little one sleep, +and watch for her awakening among the great quiet mountains, was to my +heart an ecstasy. "Dear Mamma," she cried, clasping her thin hands as +the train clambered close to the silent monarchs of the West, "I want to +touch they!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sweetheart," I said; "When Marjorie is strong and well, she shall +not only touch the dear mountains, but she shall crawl into their very +arms! Mamma will take her into the beautiful cañons, where little +streams always sing to the tall ferns; we shall have a picnic, and +perhaps the fairies will come! When my little girl sees the Fairy Queen +she can ask for a boon, like Mabel in the song. Perhaps the Queen will +say: 'So this is little Marjorie, who came all the way from New York to +see us? Marjorie is a good child, and was very patient during her long +journey. She took her bitter medicine bravely, and now she must be +rewarded. What shall be done for her, my Fairies?'</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps one kind fairy may say, 'Her cheeks must grow pink like a +La France rose'; and another, 'Her limbs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> must grow strong like a +perfect tree'; and a third, 'Her eyes must be bright like the stars, and +she must soon be well, and as happy as she is pretty.'"</p> + +<p>Thus I romanced to my patient child, snatching an inspiration from every +mile that drove us into the far country.</p> + +<p>When we entered the wide, trackless desert—the home of distorted +yuccas, which stretched gaunt arms to the cloudless sky, like hopeless +criminals doomed to the intermediate wastes of purgatory—I knew that +the "Happy Valley" lay beyond. Then my child was sleeping for long hours +at a time; nor did she awaken until the last yucca had vanished from the +desert's edge; then she opened her eyes in Wonderland! For the overland +train had completed its conquest. The great mountain chains had been +passed over in safety, while far behind, fields of snow and shrieking +blasts were forgotten, as we glided peacefully into the beautiful Valley +of San Gabriel, that Pet Marjorie might live.</p> + +<p>Our long journey was ended. We could rest, although not perfectly until +after leaving the pleasant hotel known as the East San Gabriel, when I +hoped to find in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> the old Spanish home of the Doña Maria Del Valle the +coveted seclusion of which I had dreamed.</p> + +<p>From the beginning of our journey, everyone had been interested in +Marjorie.</p> + +<p>I soon found myself accepting small attentions from sympathetic +strangers as naturally as I would have accepted, a few weeks before, the +favors of old friends.</p> + +<p>It thus happened that I first heard of the Doña Maria Del Valle, through +a lady and her son with whom I traveled. "A most perfect place for Pet +Marjorie would be with the Doña Maria Del Valle," Mrs. Sanderson had +told me, shortly after our arrival in San Gabriel, when I inquired of +all for a home that would shelter us for at least a year. Marjorie must +not live in a hotel, exposed to the constant excitement of robust +children and irresponsible strangers.</p> + +<p>Besides, I desired to try not only the winter of Southern California, +but the long, unimpassioned summer, so conducive to the restoration of +the delicate.</p> + +<p>My new friend had spent the previous season in San Gabriel; she was +familiar with the locality, and offered at once to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> intercede in our +behalf with the Doña Maria Del Valle. When she told, in her captivating +way, of the quaint, picturesque Spanish home, I could content myself +with no other retreat, and begged that the preliminary arrangements +might be made at once. From the first moment of our acquaintance, Mrs. +Sanderson's attentions had been agreeable. As soon as we arrived at the +hotel she was perfectly at home. Every one hastened to serve her, and I +perceived that she was an acknowledged authority wherever she went. My +mind was not then equal to the analysis of character. I was unsuspicious +and willing to believe in the assumed qualities of those about me. It +was enough that my child was improving hourly in health, and that I had +found a congenial and sympathetic companion in my extremity.</p> + +<p>Now that I have undertaken a story in which Mrs. Sanderson and her son +Sidney so conspicuously figure, I feel compelled to review carefully my +early and subsequent impressions of both, in order that the events of +our short and memorable acquaintance may be readily understood.</p> + +<p>Doubtless my estimate of entire <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>strangers would have been different +under less intense circumstances; but, at that time, any one who +appeared interested in my child was at once my friend—not only the +conspicuous and influential, but the humble and uncultivated, as well. +Looking back over those trying weeks, I now remember hosts of delicate +attentions dispensed by the unpretentious, that at the time were hardly +realized, owing to the effusive ostentations of the Sandersons.</p> + +<p>Since I have studied carefully the events which followed rapidly from +the beginning of our acquaintance, I am certain that neither Marjorie +nor myself would have received the slightest notice from either Mrs. +Sanderson or her son, had we failed in their selfish entertainment. My +little girl, beautiful and bright, unconsciously stole into the coldest +hearts; but I know now that it was not her delicate frame, nor the +pathos of a defrauded childhood that won the devotion of Mrs. Sanderson. +It was simply that Marjorie was an additional amusement, an additional +effect, enlivening the small court which the lady invariably held. The +capricious woman petted the child only for entertainment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> A +thoroughbred dog, or a kitten, could have won her interest as +successfully, had her passing mood been favorable to their antics. Her +fancy for myself was equally selfish. I was young enough to interest her +son, and from the first she evidently regarded me as a convenient and +suitable companion for the winter. I learned afterwards that Mrs. +Sanderson was notoriously fond of young widows. She treated them with +unusual favor in view of eventual schemes which she generally worked. +Her only idea of life was entertainment, and, in order to satisfy her +thirst for novelty, she had always chosen pretty widows to expand her +power and promote her individual caprices. Unincumbered by the +unreasonable demands of a husband, she regarded a pathetic young widow a +most desirable companion; always securing, if possible, a fresh one for +the nucleus of her social experiments.</p> + +<p>Why I should have submitted to this woman's patronage, I can not +understand. My only excuse is the recollection of an unsuspicious joy, +that came like new life into my soul. Marjorie was getting well! and +there was no one who understood my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> happiness like Mrs. Sanderson. It +never occurred to me to doubt her sincerity. That she was often haughty +and disagreeable to others I saw, but for me she had only indulgence and +delicate sympathy. Under calming climatic influences my pagan intuitions +grew hourly. Beneath the lights and shadows of the prophetic mountains, +analytical tendencies ceased. Possibly my creeds became unorthodox, but +they expanded cheerfully each day, that they might hold more of God's +harmonious universe and less of man's deformity.</p> + +<p>I believed afresh in universal philanthropy. The sweet lethargic days +were satisfying; I had no desire to analyze the motives of my +associates.</p> + +<p>I was no longer interested in attenuated studies of character. The Book +of Nature, and the literal tales of "Mother Goose" now constituted my +library. For the present, the Wise Men of Athens were no wiser than the +man who so successfully evaded the consequences of the "bramble bush." +Now that my child had been given back to me, no unnecessary suspicions +disturbed my credulous content. I had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> tired so long, that to rest, +at last, necessarily developed passive conditions over which I had but +languid control.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson, crossing my path at this particular time, appeared to be +the very person to stimulate my reviving interest in life, and I +accepted eagerly and without analysis the friendship she offered.</p> + +<p>From the first, I had been fascinated by her alertness. Unconsciously, I +felt indebted to her for my renewed fortunes. It was not until long +afterward that I discovered how very little she really did for me, or +for anyone else, when she appeared to be doing so much. She always +assumed the leadership of social affairs so cleverly, that to have +questioned her right would have proved fatal to the individual. It was +impossible to resist her personality when she chose to be engaging.</p> + +<p>She was tall and slender, with the established slenderness that +emphasizes distinction at forty-five, when plump women often exhibit the +ripeness of decay.</p> + +<p>In a word, Mrs. Sanderson eclipsed completely her feminine +contemporaries, often exciting jealous antagonisms.</p> + +<p>The lady's superior preservation was at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> times exasperating, and her +scornful indifference to topics usually interesting to middle life +disconcerted and annoyed domestic women of her own age. Her infirmities +she heroically concealed, and was never surprised into the +acknowledgement of a physical weakness. The chronic afflictions of other +women never moved her to sympathetic confidences. In fact, she avoided +systematically the society of older women, while she ingratiated herself +irresistibly with young people of both sexes.</p> + +<p>For these reasons, Mrs. Sanderson was frequently disliked, but as few +dared to oppose her openly, her sway always grew to be absolute.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER II.</span></h2> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson, at the various stations of her social pilgrimage, had +managed to create fresh enthusiasms for every shrine. Each year found +her alert, substituting new images for those cast down, and, withal, +grading so ingeniously the declivities of time, that the world failed to +detect the skillful engineering, because for her there had been none of +those abrupt drops so disastrous to the grace of womanhood.</p> + +<p>She was always in sympathy with the age. For this reason she was +perpetually surrounded by young people, who referred to her upon all +questions, accepting her decree as preëminent.</p> + +<p>Her distinguished bearing and captivating manners were so infectious +that, before she had been in San Gabriel a week, she was the recognized +authority of the hotel.</p> + +<p>It was suicidal to one's standing with a laundress to advocate the +doctrines of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> unfluted linen, contrary to the opinion of Mrs. Sanderson. +Even the non-emotional Wing Lee replied to my entreaty "to handle less +roughly Marjorie's frocks": "High tone lady <i>she</i> muchey likey my +washey! my starchey!" I felt the propriety of the rebuke when Mrs. +Sanderson at that moment sauntered past my door.</p> + +<p>Having established her position, even in the estimation of the domestics +and Celestials, it is not surprising that at the end of two weeks she +was widely known in the district of San Gabriel. Devoutly feared by the +usual social barometers of the hotel, adored by all on whom she smiled, +and hated by the unfortunate few ostracized from her favor, she seemed +the sun of the San Gabriel social system, compelling Sidney and every +one about her to reflect modestly the capricious beams she magnanimously +bestowed. In the meantime, a marvelous change had taken place in the +bare apartments that, up to the present time, had not been distinguished +as the choice of a popular leader. The rooms were no longer suggestive +of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>fluctuating tourist, but suddenly became rich in abiding +personality and comfort.</p> + +<p>It was observable that the obsequious housekeeper had rifled other +apartments, and that couches and easy chairs had materialized with a due +conformity to the prolific climate.</p> + +<p>The formerly obtrusive white walls soon grew companionable, as pictures, +draperies, Japanese plaques, and characteristic Indian baskets sprouted +upon them each night. In all directions were strewn evidences of travel +and refinement.</p> + +<p>In the bepillowed alcove a dainty tea table invited the five o'clock +teabibbers of the circle elect, while a piano and stringed instruments +allured the musical, and always the young.</p> + +<p>More noticeable, however, than all else in the rooms was the display of +attractive photographs, indicating for the Sandersons a large and +distinguished acquaintance of beautiful women.</p> + +<p>"Sid's sweethearts!" the mother said playfully, to the girls who +questioned her about the rival beauties, and when a pert miss bravely +intimated that young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>Sanderson must be "a kind of a Blue Beard," the +lady good-naturedly replied: "Oh, yes, Sid is terribly fickle. Most of +the dear ones have been beheaded long ago, and now the naughty boy is +only in love with his mother."</p> + +<p>At the same time, we noticed that the face of one beautiful girl was +repeated many times in the collection, and inferred that this particular +beauty still found favor.</p> + +<p>The son was noncommittal. He submitted indifferently to the attentions +of the various young women who thronged his mother's rooms, yet more +often appeared bored than entertained.</p> + +<p>Had I met Sidney away from his clever relative, I am certain I would +never have honored him with my acquaintance; but from the first his +mother compelled me, as well as her entire circle of friends, to accept +the young man at her estimate. Sidney Sanderson was undoubtedly a +striking development of his type; but foolish indulgence, a naturally +indolent and unsympathetic disposition—together with certain +disreputable vices, had made him totally unworthy of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>consideration +he received. About his full, blond physique there was a blasé +indifference which unfortunately very often fascinates young girls. Yet, +without his mother, the young man would have found it difficult to +retain social approbation. Deprived of her shielding expedients, his +dissipations would have become notorious, his gentlemanly pretensions +questioned.</p> + +<p>Away from her far-reaching influence, her vigilant contrivance and +conquering resources, he would not have been long courted or extolled.</p> + +<p>The usual unhappy demand for young men would doubtless have insured, for +a time, his toleration about the hotel, but his position would have been +different. He would have been openly criticised, and perhaps denounced, +unprotected by his mother's popularity.</p> + +<p>As it was, no one dared to hint an unfavorable judgment on the son of +the gifted mother who put words into his mouth and characteristics to +his account, which, in reminiscent moods, must have embarrassed him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson approved, or withered instantly, our plans, although she +never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> neglected to refer with the sweetest subserviency to her son. +"Ask Sid," she would say; "I dare say he will think it quite the thing +for us all, but his judgments are so much quieter than mine, that he is +best to consult." Thus she constituted her self-instructed oracle a +paramount authority.</p> + +<p>I am still fascinated with the recollections of this wily woman. Her +ability to deceive captivates me now, as, in the beginning of our +acquaintanceship, it enthralled my reason and silenced my prejudices.</p> + +<p>Not satisfied with posing her son before the young and unthinking as a +model of refinement, endowed with the intrinsic qualities of manhood, +his intellectual upheavals were often depicted in side talk, with +celebrities. Once with maternal discretion as fine as it was +impertinent, she told our latest nervously prostrated authoress, who was +enjoying a cup of tea in the alcove, about her boy's passion for old +books. "Sidney's library is his one extravagance," she confided, +sweetly. Then, with unblushing assurance, she told how her son's +intellectual indulgence had cost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> her an orange ranch; yet, owing to the +extremely moral character of the fad, she had grown resigned. Only once +had she ventured a remonstrance—when a fabulous sum was paid for an +atrocious old Dante, too absolutely filthy for any one but a +connoisseur. Of course, she knew she was uncultivated, but she preferred +her books fresh and clean, with attractive covers. However, there were +compensations with every trial, and Sid's veneration for antiquities +might still prove a blessing, as she herself would some day be +sufficiently antique to justify his supreme devotion.</p> + +<p>Thus the woman audaciously chattered, advertising fearlessly the bogus +literary tastes of her son.</p> + +<p>If we questioned Sidney's phenomenal reticence upon subjects so near his +heart, for convenient reasons all appeared willing to accept the +mother's version of the unexplored country where gold abounded—and +still waters ran to a depth unparalleled.</p> + +<p>Now that the scales have fallen from my eyes, I have spare justification +for this woman, for so many weeks my daily <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>companion. Even a mother's +desperation can not excuse her conduct, although it may possibly +moderate its enormity in the eyes of those who have sought to shield +with ornate falsehood an unworthy child. With the woman's clear +perception, she must have known more certainly than all others the +fullest truth concerning her son. She could not be blind to his aimless +life, his selfish nature, his depraved, ill-controlled passions. Yet, +with all her superior knowledge of the risk, she deemed it her right to +supplement her boy's deficiencies by chimerical attractions, sheltering +him, if possible, to the end, beneath the decencies and refinements of +society.</p> + +<p>Without his mother in the breach, Sidney Sanderson would undoubtedly +have been publicly disgraced many times, for he was not a clever rogue. +Yet, only once, to my knowledge, did his disreputable conduct appear in +print, and even then the mother proved herself equal to the dastardly +emergencies of the scandal.</p> + +<p>The affair occurred in one of the quick-grown Western cities in which +the Sandersons were financially interested. They lived in the place for +a number of months,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> and were soon the center of the fashionable! +questionable! mushroom! set of the town. I had the story from an eye +witness of the unique local travesty, which, together with my personal +knowledge of the leading lady's adaptation for her part, enabled me to +readily imagine the dramatic force of the situation.</p> + +<p>It was simple to see a group of fair gossipers, suspending instantly the +bold assertions of the moment, when the tall, gracious, masterful Mrs. +Sanderson appeared among them, holding in her beautiful jeweled hands +the daily paper. Still easier to fancy the incredulous expressions, +followed by eager devotion to fancy work, when the lady deliberately +seated herself in the cosy corner of the hotel corridor and read, +unflinchingly, a long, scandalous article, replete with stinging +invective, which everyone knew applied to but one man, and that man her +son. I could fancy the woman asking insolently, at the close of her +desperate performance, if any one could locate the "Blond Lothario" of +the sensation, feeling absolutely sure that no voice would answer.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>Such was Mrs. Sanderson's nerve, such her diabolical vigor. So strong +were her restraining influences, and so unflinching her power, that none +of the social squad dared to confront her with her lie. It was not until +weeks afterwards, when both mother and son had left the town, that +tongues were loosened and restricted gossips happy.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER III.</span></h2> + +<p>It has appeared wise to relate at once my warranted impression of Mrs. +Sanderson. Having failed so completely in the early part of our intimacy +to penetrate her character, I offer the reader an advantage; and that +the events which follow may be better understood, I have endeavored to +make plain her supreme selfishness.</p> + +<p>As previously stated, it was she who first told me about the home of the +Del Valles. The year before, she had gone to the ranch in quest of the +exquisite drawn work, done upon the finest linen, for which the Doña +Maria was famous; and so charmed had the lady been with the recollection +of the picturesque visit, that she hastened, upon her return to San +Gabriel, to renew the acquaintance.</p> + +<p>She was surprised to find the family much less prosperous than formerly, +and the ranch mortgaged for almost its value. The proud Doña Maria told +her, with quiet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> tears, how all was wrong; how her grandnephew Arturo +had gone to Old Mexico to renew, if possible, the failing fortunes of +his family, while upon her, assisted by an idle Mexican, had fallen the +sole responsibility of the ranch; how it was impossible not to neglect +many things now that Arturo was gone, for her aged mother was again bad +with the old spells, and soon must make a great care. But most +deplorable of all, her little Mariposilla was growing up in idleness, +caring not for the teachings of the good Sisters at the Convent, hating +persistently the drawn work, trying only to be like the Americans in +disobedience and manners, forgetting each day how once it was glorious +to have been born a Del Valle. The result of these confidences was a +second visit from Mrs. Sanderson, this time accompanied by Sidney, who +at once suggested the ranch as a home for myself and Marjorie.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson had captivated the Doña Maria with the rest of us, and +had no difficulty in persuading the unfortunate woman to receive us into +her household. She dilated with her usual flow upon the mutual +advantages of the arrangement,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> until I was charmed with her +disinterested kindness. Not even now do I charge the woman with a +premeditated plot. If one existed then, it existed for Sidney alone—the +shadow of a foul possibility. Neither do I believe that Mrs. Sanderson +cared to befriend either the Doña Maria Del Valle or myself.</p> + +<p>Our residence at the ranch might prove another opportunity for enjoyment +during the winter, an added zest to the California sojourn. Picturesque +situations were the chief articles in the woman's creed; to entertain +Sidney, her religion.</p> + +<p>She was so supremely worldly, so accustomed to her own selfishness, that +the possibility of harm, developed by the franchise of pleasure, was not +considered in her schemes for entertainment. She thought it natural and +amusing "that Sid should flirt with the pretty Mariposilla," and soon +played herself, with the emotions of the unsuspicious child, as a cat +would have played with the life of a mouse.</p> + +<p>In a word, when Marjorie and I had once been established at the ranch of +the Doña Maria Del Valle, there would be constant opportunities for +pleasure, mingled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> with novelty. If the hotel grew intolerable, with an +influx of stupid, dissatisfied tourists, the ranch might prove a haven +in which one could safely linger, sheltered from the interrogations of +the irrepressible "tenderfoot." Upon the shaded veranda of the old +adobe, fancy work could be pleasantly pursued, or one could simply idle +the time, which in Southern California seems without limit, surrounded +by congenial society and picturesque associations.</p> + +<p>Thus it came about that, believing in the generous sympathy of my new +friend, I went with my child to live in the old Spanish home of the Doña +Maria Del Valle.</p> + +<p>Pervading my satisfaction was a sincere admiration for the woman who +could arrange so readily tiresome details, sequestering us, almost +immediately upon our arrival in a strange country, in one of the fairest +spots of the rare San Gabriel Valley.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER IV.</span></h2> + +<p>The San Gabriel Valley, in December, is pleasant to look upon. Not as +winsome as in February, when the Carnival of the year is born, but +serenely beautiful. Cleansing rains have polished every ridge of the +Sierra Madre, until purple cañons shine out like treasures of amethyst, +while clearly defined spurs, shot with softest green, reflect the +promises of the Spring.</p> + +<p>"Old Baldy," the hoary sire of the range, gleams like a high priest. To +the south, shaggy "Gray Back," and still beyond, San Jacinto, a lone +fortress of alabaster on a turquoise sea, emphasize again the boundaries +of the horizon. The misty veil of the long summer has lifted, disclosing +an unbroken line of ravishing landscape. Every leaf and bud in the +valley breathes with fresh lungs. The meadow lark, tilting upon the +topmost tip of the highest pine, sings to the sky a jubilate in three +pure syllables. Birds are wooing sweethearts fearlessly, for now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> time +must not be lost, and home sites must be secured in the lacy pepper +trees, before the poppies cover the foothills, or baby-blue-eyes and +cream-cups fringe the roadsides.</p> + +<p>Everything is noisy with awakening life. The rich earth teems with +ambitions. Volunteer seeds are springing enthusiastically to the +surface. Timid wild flowers are peeping forth each day to test the +possibilities of an early season, heralded even now by the irrepressible +Al Filerea, which runs riot in all directions, unconscious of its doom +when the plowman invades the land.</p> + +<p>Then it is that the oranges begin to glow like gold among green shadows, +and naked deciduous trees to flush with the faintest pink of returning +life. So intoxicating is the air that the saddest invalid beams with +renewed hope, almost forgetting his burden beneath the delicious blue of +the peaceful sky.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the Sierra Madre lies Pasadena—"Crown of the Valley"—so +named from its imperial situation. An established and aristocratic +nucleus for its surrounding towns, few places are so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> rich in conditions +to palliate or allay the sorrows and disappointments of the usual life.</p> + +<p>South of this beautiful town, where wealth and culture have displaced +the primitive ranch, ordaining in its place extensive villa sites, +ornate with lawns of blue grass, bordered by rose gardens and ornamental +shrubbery, stretch the fertile acres of San Gabriel. Still utilitarian +in their scheme, these acres comprise ranches that radiate for miles in +all directions from the Old Mission, like spokes from an antiquated hub. +Close to the old church are the houses and stores of the once thriving +village, now, alas! dusky with memories of the Señora, the captivating +Señorita, the valiant Don, and the watchful Padre.</p> + +<p>Defenseless in its degeneracy, the place now boasts a motley population +of low-bred Mexicans and narrow-eyed Celestials. Still, when the old +Spanish bells call to the early Sabbath mass, if one is observing, he +may find among the weather-beaten countenances of the Mexicans, often +marked with the high cheek bone of the Indian, true descendants of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +early aristocracy, holding aloof from the horde, absorbed in prayers, +that alone are the same since the ranches were ruthlessly divided and +railroads allowed to invade.</p> + +<p>Yet the Spanish homes that remain in the valley are mere echoes of +former times, but tiny specks upon the map of the real estate dealer, +which have miraculously escaped the clutches of strangers. Although +humble, a few of these homes are strikingly picturesque.</p> + +<p>On a retired road, sheltered on either side by mammoth pepper trees, +east of the Mission by several miles, lived the Doña Maria Del Valle. +Her little ranch was all that she had saved from her husband's estate, +and she ever scorned its importance when she told indignantly how her +husband's father had once held a splendid principality comprising four +thousand acres.</p> + +<p>"Now, alas! we own nothing," she said, resting, a moment, her dark hands +from their incessant labor at the exquisite drawn work. "My child will +be always poor, she will grow like the Americans, caring not for the +past. It is cruel indeed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> that she saw not her noble father Don Arturo. +Had he but lived, with his learning and accomplishments, his child would +rejoice that she was born a Del Valle! Now she listens not patiently to +the tale of former days, for in the Convent she has met American girls, +and thinks only to imitate them, hoping to gain for herself a strange +husband who loves not her people. Our dear Arturo she scorns! driving +him far away by her wicked disobedience; for when she laughed at his +love he could no longer endure to behold her."</p> + +<p>Unhappy indeed was the Doña Maria when indulging in such confidences; +but not often did she speak of her troubles, for so poor had the family +become, that, to support her aged mother and the pretty Mariposilla, she +was compelled to work constantly at the drawn work, learned in her youth +as a pastime, now, alas! one of her chief sources of revenue.</p> + +<p>It was owing to her reduced circumstances that the proud Doña Maria had +received under her roof Marjorie and myself, for she loved not the +Americans; but, as she told me artlessly one day, "Only the Americans +now have gold.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>"Once it was not so. We, too, had gold in abundance, but we loved not +our gold as the Americans love theirs, to keep in the bank. We loved +gold because it gave us joy to buy land, and cattle, and jewels, and +lace."</p> + +<p>Yes, it was simply for our gold that Marjorie and I had been received +under the roof of the Del Valles. Still, when once the arrangement had +been entered upon, the Doña Maria was all that we could desire as a +hostess.</p> + +<p>Marjorie stole each hour into the hearts of the old grandmother and the +proud disappointed daughter, aging so fast under stress of multiplied +troubles, that she needed just such an appealing interest as my delicate +child to call into action the unselfish side of her noble nature. Before +we had lived long at the ranch our lives were running together as +smoothly as if we all rejoiced in the same blood.</p> + +<p>The house of the Doña Maria Del Valle was not the original ranch house, +but a smaller adobe, built after many of the broad acres had been +bartered away by the taking of imperfect securities, the worthlessness +of which the happy-go-lucky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> owners had failed to comprehend until too +late to obviate the consequences.</p> + +<p>"We understood not the laws and the papers of the Americans," the Doña +Maria explained, as we sat, one sunshiny morning, upon the sheltered +veranda. "One day we owned all the land in the valley for many miles, +the next day we owned not so much, and at last only the little that is +left."</p> + +<p>To me, the fifteen remaining acres appeared most desirable, for I was +not then versed in the matter of fruit culture. I did not understand +that orange trees differ one from another in point of perfection as +widely as do people.</p> + +<p>It was some time before I learned that in the early settlement of the +valley disastrous experiments had been made. Many of the first trees +planted had yielded an inferior variety of fruit, not lucrative in a +market each year growing more critical, as the country became settled by +determined agriculturists, who possessed, not only cash capital, but +brains stimulated by college education and practical experience. Such +men soon discovered that it was unprofitable to irrigate or nurture for +long a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> tree that was not all that a tree of its kind should be.</p> + +<p>Consequently there had been frequent upheavals of earth; many old +orchards were regarded by the experienced as worthless, the owners +preferring to replant with the best varieties of budded trees, even +though a considerable time must elapse before a revenue would result. +Unfortunately, the orange ranch of the Doña Maria Del Valle was a poor +one. It was planted with a flavorless variety of seedling, which yielded +an income quite insufficient for the demands of the family. From an +æsthetic point of view the grove appeared the Garden of the Hesperides. +The staunch, far-reaching limbs of the old trees drooped opulently +beneath the golden balls that invited the "Forty Thieves," who, +happening to be "tenderfeet," ate with wry faces and discourteous +exclamations the fruit that a native would have scorned to touch. For in +California oranges are not ripe in December. Not until the late spring, +when the sun has used persistently his winsome inducements, does the +fruit consent to assume its luscious perfection.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>Turning from the highway, the ranch of the Doña Maria Del Valle was +entered from between two mammoth century plants, whose giant spears made +formidable the approach to the long avenue leading to the house. The +drive was shaded by gnarled old pepper trees, uniting from each side +their fantastic branches to form an elfin tunnel of lacy shade. On the +ground, thickly scattered, lay dartlike leaves, and scarlet berries +shading from rich to pale, until a long oriental rug seemed spread for +the court of an expected princess.</p> + +<p>At the end of the Avenue stood the low adobe, covered with ivy and the +famous Gold of Ophir rose, which at Easter illuminated the veranda and +roof with the lights and shadows of forty thousand blooms. Not far from +the house two giant palms—honored patriarchs of the valley—reared +their trembling feathers to the sky. Like grim sentinels, true to a +trust, they guarded in dumb eloquence the story of the past.</p> + +<p>Before reaching the house the drive divided, encircling within the arms +of its curve a soft oval cushion of Bermuda<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> grass that in December is +brown and unpromising, but in the spring grows green remaining so +through the long summer, making no imperative demand for water, and +being at all seasons as soft to the feet as the most luxurious rug. It +is the grass created for the invalid. He alone appreciates the thick, +delicious mat, which hoards for his bloodless feet thousands of warm +sunbeams that cheat his physician into the belief that he is eminent, +when he discovers his patient escaping his professional clutches.</p> + +<p>Added to the tropical effect of full-grown palms and riotous shrubbery, +the guardian Sierra Madre was ever flashing rich shadows and tender +patches of light, that, in the clear, prismatic air, reflected countless +expressions into the hearts of the flowers and onto the surface of the +leaves.</p> + +<p>Such was the home of the Doña Maria Del Valle. Here Mariposilla had been +born, sixteen years before, five months after the death of her father, +Don Arturo.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER V.</span></h2> + +<p>Each year, when the Gold of Ophir illuminates the valley with its +passionate bloom, I think of Mariposilla. Under the spell of the +transient radiance of the rose, her beauty comes to me like a lovely +dream. The flashing lights and subtile shades of the marvelous flower +seem to communicate a wild sensation of the child's presence; for ever +since I first beheld her close to the rose, there has been in my mind a +fancy that between these two children of the valley there existed a +bond, an almost supernatural kinship, that betrayed itself with each +quiver of the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>So impressed I became with the idea, that I unconsciously sought for +Mariposilla's mood in the changing color of the rose. During the +eventful weeks of which I shall write, when the rose and the girl began +and finished their one exciting drama, bursting together into fullest +perfection, I found myself associating them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> constantly in my thoughts. +So essential each appeared to the other, that when Mariposilla stood +beneath the Gold of Ophir she seemed to absorb its every tint, while at +the same time its golden sprays glowed with the effulgence of her +glorious proximity. Their harmony appeared perfect, their united beauty +the personification of carnal and ethereal blending. When the sun shone +early, with no rebuff from the occasional fog, thousands of buds and +blossoms bloomed upon the somber adobe, and even while one looked, +indescribable tones of gold, and pink, and yellow appeared to creep from +the passionate hearts of the buds onto the glorified edges of the +full-blown flowers. Then, too, Mariposilla dazzled. Her very being +flashed with a phosphorescence akin to nothing human, but so like the +luster of the rose that each must have been created that the other might +bloom. Both seemed children of the sun, entrusted with opalescent +secrets that nothing but his rays could reveal; for, if the day grew +chill, both Mariposilla and the Gold of Ophir paled. The fire left the +edges of the rose petals, and the blood retreated from the surface of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +the girl's creamy flesh. Her great luminous eyes grew dull, as she +sought listlessly her neglected lace frame, drawing silently the threads +of the linen, ignoring the whining questions of her old grandmother, +completely lost in the indifference of her mood.</p> + +<p>Or perhaps, disregarding the commands of her mother, she tossed aside +the lace frame and crept into a silent corner of the room to play upon +her guitar wild, turbulent music, until the Doña Maria, angry and +impatient, commanded her to finish at once the altar cloth ordered +months before by the lady from Pasadena. At the same time she bade her +mind with care to cross herself at the little Jesus stitch, else a curse +would come upon them all.</p> + +<p>Even yet I dread to think of this strange child out of the sunshine. I +would always have kept her under the influence of soothing warmth. +Mariposilla—little butterfly—how well she idealized her name. Born of +the sun and for the sun, no real butterfly ever rivaled her. Why could I +not protect her passionate, capricious young heart, as the flowers +enfold at night the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> dazzling, thoughtless beauties of a summer's day? +Alas! destiny seemed kinder to the insect than to the child.</p> + +<p>Viewing in retrospect the girl's rapid and eventful development, I now +remember vividly each incident in her little history. When she came into +my life like a picturesque plaything, I failed to realize that she was +other than a beautiful child. I was then totally ignorant from +experience of the premature blooming of Spanish girls. From history I +knew that they developed young; but history is easily forgotten. It was +natural to expect Mariposilla to pursue the same pace that once upon a +time I had taken myself. We are all miserable egotists, without +realizing the weakness; and I fell at once into the fallacy of believing +that all girls develop in the same way. Mariposilla was only sixteen, +and at sixteen most girls are children. I recalled my own blushes, as I +remembered drawing-room miseries to which I was at that age subjected. +When my grown brothers insisted upon presenting me to college chums, I +flew at my earliest opportunity from the ordeal, cheered by the thought +of a toboggan slide<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> with my nice boy beau. Yes, I had a boy beau, who +was truly delightful. It was only when he went away to college that I +ceased to care for him, and bestowed my smiles upon a new flame across +the way, who was yet a boy. At sixteen I regarded men as formidable +creatures, to be encountered when school days were over, and childhood +had come to an end. When I heard later that my gay Freshman smoked! and +was engaged to a young woman of his college town, six years his senior, +I wondered how I had ever consented to sit upon a sled with such a +monster. At sixteen my ideas of love were as vague as they were +wholesome. In my young healthiness I doubted seriously if any girl ever +died for love outside of a book. Thus recalling my own girlhood, I at +first felt no misgivings in exposing Mariposilla to the apparently +innocent attentions of Mr. Sidney Sanderson, especially as his mother +and myself were always about. It seemed only sensible to believe that +the Spanish child would receive real benefit from her new associations. +I did not realize the narrow boundaries of her young life, nor did I +then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> understand how she adored Americans, whom she regarded as models +of refinement and wisdom. When the Doña Maria told me of her +grandnephew's love for her daughter I felt it an outrage that so young a +girl should have been spoken to about marriage.</p> + +<p>I was secretly glad that Mariposilla had repulsed her second cousin, and +I could not cease to wonder why the Doña Maria, so sensible in most +respects, should desire her only child to accept at sixteen the only man +she had ever known. It delighted me to believe that Mariposilla found +full enjoyment in the society of Marjorie. They were great friends, and +at times Marjorie seemed almost as mature as the older girl. Each day +they played with the hounds upon the Bermuda grass, as happy and free +from responsibility as the dogs. Thus time slipped away. Peace and +contentment filled our lives, while my child and her Spanish playmate +rivaled each day in healthy beauty the roses, now responding to the +first welcome rains.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER VI.</span></h2> + +<p>As Christmas approached, I found myself anticipating the festal time +with a restored interest as keen as the feigned enthusiasms of the +previous holiday season had been unbearable. But three weeks remained of +the old year, and already the new one seemed full of promises.</p> + +<p>As I watched Marjorie and Mariposilla romp like kittens upon the Bermuda +grass, I wondered if my heart could ever ache again with the old, +tiresome pain. The morning was glorious, and I felt myself buoyed above +my most ardent hopes. Our new life was an elixir, that drove away sad +thoughts, while it invited pleasant memories. Nature had aroused once +more my sluggish sympathies, until I complied eagerly with all of her +coaxing demands. When her trees swayed, their quiet motion lulled me. If +her birds talked, I understood their pleasant assurances. With the sun +rose my heart. When it sank slowly to rest, I waited for its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> good-night +promise upon the mountains, and when they flushed rosiest, I, too, +glowed with a rapturous trust.</p> + +<p>With Marjorie asleep in my arms, I heard my father calling dear names to +his own little girl. I felt my mother braid my hair, and saw her smile +at my fresh blue ribbons. Two handsome brothers teased me about the new +lover, who had driven away the other beaux. And then I felt again upon +my lips this lover's first true kiss. When my child laughed in her sleep +I laid her gently down, and lived once more the short, sweet romance of +my life.</p> + +<p>Each day I was learning to go alone, gradually attaining the composure +of one who has survived a shock, realizing at last the odds of destiny, +and the necessity of making much of comfortable opportunities.</p> + +<p>I am describing my feelings, not that I wish to write about myself, but +in order that I may be pardoned if later some may blame me for lack of +perception. If I was beguiled into unsuspiciousness by the peace of my +new life, I should be forgiven, for at that time God's whole creation +seemed as good as in the beginning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>Christmas was coming, I have said, and Marjorie was wild with +expectation. I could hear her merry treble entreating Mariposilla to +tell how Santa Claus could ever come to California, where there was no +snow, except upon the tops of the mountains.</p> + +<p>When the Spanish girl failed to explain, the child grew flushed and +excited. Marjorie's vivid imagination was tempered by a rational +appreciation of consistency, and she declared indignantly that Santa +Claus always traveled in a sleigh. Without snow the reindeer would have +a difficult time, and she was pathetically certain that her stocking +would be quite empty upon Christmas morning. The little girl was a +stubborn logician. The form of her infantile dictum was often mixed, but +her mother generally perceived her difficulties, and drew from +sadly-muddled premises conclusions that were entirely satisfactory to +both. In the existing case she had foreseen the burst of skepticism that +was now distressing the child, and was well prepared to confute her +troublesome doubts. "Listen," she said, "and I will explain.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>"Mariposilla ought to know that when Santa Claus comes to Southern +California he always lives upon the top of 'Old Baldy.' The beautiful +valley is too warm for him. So each year he builds a snow house upon the +mountain, and, with his pipe and reindeer for company, he works merrily +at the toys which he so skillfully fashions for the children of the far +West. When his loving labor is completed, he packs the wonderful +presents into a huge sleigh, and at twelve o'clock of the night before +Christmas, he feeds his reindeer, and hitches them to the great sledge. +When the children of the peaceful valleys are fast asleep, the dear old +Saint drives gaily down the steep, white side of the great mountain. At +its foot he blows a long, shrill whistle, and from the many cañons of +the range come the fairies. The happy little people dearly love to be +useful. They have the greatest affection for Santa Claus, and they tell +him truthfully about all of his boys and girls; reporting both good and +naughty ones. But most tenderly do the fairies tell of the little sick +children who have come from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>faraway homes in the East to seek for +health in the land of sunshine. When the kind Saint is sure that no +child has been forgotten, he commands the fairies to finish his loving +work. He can go no farther with the reindeer, and so he intrusts his +beautiful gifts to the willing little helpers, who have swarmed at his +call. And now, at the bidding of the Fairy Queen, thousands of lily +chariots, drawn by dashing teams of bumblebees, form in long lines upon +the foothills. The white chariots, with their yellow daisy wheels, are a +wonderful sight in the early daylight.</p> + +<p>"Each one has a fairy driver, dressed in a Christmas suit, made from the +petals of a Maréchal Neil rose. When the chariots are at last loaded to +their fullest capacity with the precious toys, old Santa Claus gives the +signal to start. Then the happy drivers spring upon their high, yellow +seats in the center of the chariots. Gripping firmly a long lash of blue +grass, each little fellow waves farewell to dear Santa Claus, who has +already started up the mountain, satisfied and happy that his holiday<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +work is done. Not until another Christmas will the valleys feel the +loving presence of the kind old Saint, for when the sun and the birds +have awakened his children he will be far away. But his beautiful gifts +will be hanging upon the great, white rose-trees—the Christmas trees of +our summer land."</p> + +<p>When I had finished Marjorie clapped her hands and exclaimed with +delight, but Mariposilla said nothing. She was silently eloquent for +several moments, until, suddenly remembering that she ought to +acknowledge genius, she kissed me gently upon the cheek, much as she +would have kissed the wooden image of the Virgin that stood in the Doña +Maria's bedroom. Looking down into my face with her great, beautiful +eyes, she said, almost reverently: "The Señora knows much; she is a +great and wise Americana; I love her with great love."</p> + +<p>Mariposilla had never before addressed me in the quaint, affectionate +style of her anglicized tongue, and as I caught her in my arms, laughing +at the sweet, sober compliment, I told her how I would always treasure +it for her sake<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>—the most delightful praise I had ever received.</p> + +<p>I remember it was about this time that I first became aware of the +girl's rare beauty. Suddenly she seemed to have commenced to mature, and +her radiance startled me. I wondered then if such ravishing charms were +to be desired, for it seemed hardly possible that she would be contented +with her available destiny.</p> + +<p>I had already seen that her thoughts were not with her countryman and +kinsman, Arturo, but remote, engaged with intangible dreams of she knew +not what. I could not refuse to see, at times, in her restless, +unsatisfied expression, that she had outgrown the customs and +associations of her race. I saw that she was consumed with admiration +for Americans, attempting their fashions and manners with a +determination almost pathetic.</p> + +<p>When the Sandersons came to the ranch, and we sat upon the veranda +chatting in the effervescent style of our Republic, Mariposilla listened +like a charmed bird, especially if Mrs. Sanderson chanced to relate a +story replete with inimitable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> shades and mannerisms. I am certain that +the lady herself realized and exerted unduly her magnetism upon the +unsophisticated girl. I often noticed her regarding with complacent +amusement the worshipful expression upon Mariposilla's face. Sometimes +she would abruptly summon her to her side, while she touched the dark +head with her beautiful jeweled hand. Perhaps she called her a pretty +name; or possibly joked her about her faith in the good stories of the +great Americanos, until the child's cheeks grew opalescent with happy +embarrassment. Then, before the lovely tints had paled, she would send +her away for a glass of water from the deep red olla, or for a rose from +a bush indicated by her fancy.</p> + +<p>I remember that upon this particular morning I was troubling indirectly +about Mariposilla, thinking that perhaps her daily association with +Sidney might not be for the best. I had not then dreamed of inhuman +exertions on the part of the Sandersons to entrap the child. I simply +wondered if we were wise to expose the beautiful, immature girl to the +constant,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> flattering attentions of an impossible young man.</p> + +<p>I remember that I decided to tell her, at my earliest opportunity, that +Sidney was destined to marry a New York heiress. However, as soon as the +thought had taken shape in my mind, I felt indignant for imagining +possibilities disagreeable enough to disturb the peace of our pleasant +social conditions. I said to myself that Mariposilla was still a child, +often the satisfied playmate of Marjorie. It would be easy, I was sure, +to observe the slightest vibration in the direction of a love affair.</p> + +<p>The Doña Maria had assured me that her child was hard of heart, ever +scorning the devotion of lovers. Altogether I felt a ridiculous prude +when the gay trap of the Sandersons suddenly dashed into the avenue.</p> + +<p>Sidney was driving the spirited team, with his mother behind him, +luxuriously wrapped for the December morning.</p> + +<p>At the first sound of the horses' hoofs upon the driveway, Mariposilla +vanished. I could see at a glance, upon her return, that she had been +before the little mirror<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> in her bedroom, for the betumbled appearance +occasioned by her romp with Marjorie had disappeared; likewise she had +embellished her scarlet frock with a little black velvet girdle that +emphasized the costume with an irresistible touch of Spain.</p> + +<p>I perceived that Sidney was unmistakably pleased with the child's +appearance; but I could not consistently blame him for our common crime, +for never before had I been so impressed with the superb type of +Mariposilla's beauty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson was most winning. She had come, she said, in search of +good company for a drive. She was going to Pasadena for two yards of +yellow ribbon. Was it not absolutely delightful to drive eight miles for +a couple of yards of ribbon? Such irresponsible pleasure made one scorn +philanthropy. Why should one desire to reconcile happy Hottentots to +Parisian costume? Why be perpetually annoyed with grave and difficult +questions, when all could be easily dismissed in a drive after ribbon? +She lamented that she had not come to San Gabriel years ago, before +there was so little to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>prolong. She was sure native Californians were +born without nerves. It rested her more than a whole year at a +sanitarium to look at Mariposilla. What a perfect beauty she was, this +minute, in her red frock. She must gain at once the Doña Maria's consent +and come for a drive. All must make haste, for it was criminal to lose +one moment of the morning.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla, as usual, had stood unconsciously enthralled by Mrs. +Sanderson's wonderful personality. The child had not understood the +lady's ironic sallies, but the invitation to drive had been plain.</p> + +<p>Instantly the absent, incomprehensible look fled from her eyes; they +seemed suddenly bathed in lambent joy, while an emotional radiance +enveloped her form. Resembling the beautiful little creature after which +she had been named, she appeared to dart through the sunshine, then to +vanish in the doorway of the somber adobe, like a lost meteor. Her +marvelous, unstudied motions seemed the reflection of fickle twilight.</p> + +<p>"Will she come back? or has she flown forever into an old legend of +Spain?" Mrs. Sanderson demanded, tragically.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> "She will return as demure +as a novitiate," I replied.</p> + +<p>A few moments later the truth of the statement was verified. The girl's +first intense emotions had been forcibly quieted by her desire to be +thought conventional. When she reappeared, prepared for the drive, she +walked slowly, almost stiffly—"like a lady," the Sisters at the Convent +would have said.</p> + +<p>She had donned a black jacket, that was fortunately too small and +obliged to flare, exposing the little velvet girdle and a dash of +scarlet that emulated coquettishly the breast of a robin. Her hair was +carefully twisted into a girlish coil, while upon her head she wore a +large, picturesque black hat.</p> + +<p>During the drive to Pasadena she was ecstatically solemn, and it was +only when she turned her profile to reply almost in monosyllables to the +ingenious questions of Sidney that I discovered how happy she was. Her +cheeks had again assumed wonderful tints, occasioned by a renewed +realization of her exalted privileges, and I could see that she was +flattered beyond her most daring expectation. Sidney,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> usually so +reticent, had suddenly maddened into an animated inquisitor. I observed +that he never allowed his eyes to leave the girl's face, when she +replied modestly to his volley of direct questions.</p> + +<p>Necessarily, these recollections have now come back to me slightly +embellished by the events which quickly followed this initial drive. It +must have been a comprehension of the common failure to note the signs +of a disaster in time to obviate it, which led the ecclesiastical +composers to insert in the general confession of the Prayer Book the +clause in which the sinner bewails not only his actually committed sins, +but his passive criminalities, born of neglect.</p> + +<p>My conscience will ever ache with the knowledge of "things left undone" +for Mariposilla. I know now that I should have explained more decidedly +to the child the impassable width of the social gulf, even at the risk +of her loving me less. I should have protected her against herself, by +showing her the truth without palliation. I should have told her how +fraudulent and glittering are the attentions of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> fashionable men, and +warned her against the cruel disappointments of society.</p> + +<p>Doubtless the child would have disregarded my wisdom, for wilful, +rapturous youth is slow to accept experience secondhand. At the time, it +appeared only right and natural that Mariposilla should take part in our +daily pleasures, while, in justice to myself, it did not occur to me to +doubt the good intentions of the Sandersons, until too late to overcome +the complications which arose by degrees from our general intimacy.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER VII.</span></h2> + +<p>It was impossible for me to resist my impulses as we dashed through the +sunshine. To be absolved from every responsibility as I breathed with +joy the vigorous, sedative air—a mingled freshness of May and +October—had intoxicated my nerves. Unconsciously I allowed sentiments +to escape, which I usually restrained when in the society of the +brilliant cynic by my side.</p> + +<p>It seemed impossible that the most hardened wretch could be capable of +criminality upon such a divine morning; and I enthusiastically aired my +moral philosophy, much to the amusement of Mrs. Sanderson, who jestingly +replied, as we turned from a long avenue into the principal business +street of Pasadena—"As usual, my dear, you have caught entirely the +local spirit of your environments. I am told that the millennium has +already begun in Pasadena, and that even now there are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> more sanctified +cranks to the acre than in any town in America."</p> + +<p>As the lady spoke, a Salvation Army girl approached with the <i>War Cry</i>. +The fresh young face peering from beneath the ugly bonnet had a demure +fascination, and rebellious to the scornful expression of my companion, +I dropped the requested nickel into the extended hand of the pretty +fanatic. As the young woman retired to the sidewalk, Mrs. Sanderson +laughed a derisive little laugh.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will be doing something wild if you stay in this country +long," she said. "If it were not for Marjorie I should feel alarmed. The +noticeable attentions of the sallow, sanctimonious priest at the hotel +may yet prove dangerous. I shall feel it my duty to keep an eye upon you +both."</p> + +<p>"Pray do," I replied coldly, as we left the trap and entered a dry-goods +store, gay with Christmas decorations, and crowded with shoppers.</p> + +<p>Wending our way to the ribbon counter we found it thronged by pretty +girls, chattering merrily as they selected various shades from a gay +labyrinth of color, that announced a sale of remnants.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>It was evident that but one damsel of the group had troubled herself to +remember that the month was December, for she alone did credit to her +conventional convictions. She resembled, at first glance, a properly +rolled umbrella. Her tailor-made gown was severe in the extreme, and her +hat and carriage were harmoniously stiff. Her companions wore cheerful, +girlish costumes, ranging in variety from a white flannel tennis frock, +supplemented by fur cape and straw sailor hat, to the very correct +street suit of the severe young woman. Bright eyes and glowing cheeks +showed plainly that if cotillions were a frequent occurrence in +Pasadena, as the conversation of the lassies indicated, their disastrous +ravages were providentially repaired by horseback riding and tennis the +year round.</p> + +<p>We had not expected to meet friends among the merry bevy, but as the +young woman of the "tailor-made" turned to leave the store, Mrs. +Sanderson recognized her. She was Miss Walton, the daughter of an old +friend, a wealthy New Yorker, who now lived most of his time in +Pasadena.</p> + +<p>The acknowledgement was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>instantaneous, and before the ladies had +exchanged a dozen sentences they were joined by a younger sister who was +quite a beauty.</p> + +<p>"This encounter is delightful," said the younger girl, extending +cordially a pretty bare hand slightly browned by the sun. "I am so glad +you have come, for now we can have Mr. Sanderson for our cotillion. We +were quite desperate for another man, as one of our dearest one-lungers +has been forbidden to dance. The pretty, tall girl buying the pink +ribbon is the unfortunate bereft of her partner. She will be delighted +with her luck, when I tell her she is to dance with a man who will not +be a responsibility."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Ethel!" interrupted the tailor-made Miss Walton; "what will +the ladies think?"</p> + +<p>"The simple truth," replied the irrepressible Ethel. "The ladies have +doubtless learned of the one drawback to our glorious climate—its +dearth of able-bodied dancing men. Do you wonder, Mrs. Sanderson," the +girl continued appealingly, "that we jump at the chance to dance once in +a while with a man who is not delicate, who has never had a hemorrhage +or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> organic heart trouble? Of course," she rattled on, "we have a few +sound men, but this year has been an off year for the unengaged. The two +dear fellows who made love collectively have gone East, so you see a new +man is like balm in Gilead."</p> + +<p>"Sidney must certainly attend the cotillion," his mother said, much +amused.</p> + +<p>"Of course he must," the girl replied, gaily. "He will be the belle of +the ball. When I tell the girls confidentially that he won't have to be +saved a particle, won't they dote on him? You see it is simply crushing +to have the responsibility of a one-lunger for a whole evening. Delicate +men are always idiotic about getting in a draught, and as stubborn as +mules about not putting on overcoats when healthy people are freezing. +It certainly is not pleasant to stop a man in the middle of a waltz when +you see his wind giving out, or to be blamed the next day when he is +absolutely ill. Of course you have to be sympathetic, send him dainties, +and take him to drive as soon as he is out again, but the responsibility +after a time becomes too serious to be interesting."</p> + +<p>"Ethel!" said her sister, "what do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> mean? She is really not as +heartless as she appears," Miss Walton continued, turning to Mrs. +Sanderson. "I trust you will make due allowance for a young lady who +persists in coming to town in a tennis costume; but as my father has +always allowed her to act like a barbarian, mamma and I can do nothing."</p> + +<p>"She seems delightfully hopeless," Mrs. Sanderson replied. "We must have +the pretty barbarian at San Gabriel as soon as possible. Sid would find +your case most interesting, Miss Ethel, but perhaps you are not aware of +his missionary tendencies?"</p> + +<p>Ethel laughed, but Miss Walton took no pains to conceal her annoyance, +although she politely seconded her sister's invitation to lunch that +same day at Crown Hill.</p> + +<p>"You shall not escape us," Ethel said, gaily, as we hesitated on account +of our number, explaining that five hungry people were too many to usher +unexpectedly upon even the most long-suffering cook. "Not at all," the +girl declared. "Wong would be in despair if no company came, as he was +expecting guests<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> who at the last moment sent word that it would be +impossible for them to come."</p> + +<p>Her father and mother, too, were away, and "but for the delightful +accident of the morning my sister and I would have been all alone," she +added, convincingly.</p> + +<p>Promising to accept the invitation at the time appointed, we left the +store in search of Sidney and the children.</p> + +<p>Looking about, we perceived the team hitched across the street, while +those we sought had gone into a confectory close by. I could see +Marjorie dancing in front of the door with a box of candy.</p> + +<p>The child was still too delicate for rash experiments, and I hastily +rushed to her rescue. Mrs. Sanderson cynically remarked that possibly +Marjorie might find it less easy to be good than her mother, adding that +if the divine climatic restraints had not proved stronger than her +temptation I must be merciful. I could not help feeling irritated by the +sarcastic remark, and replied with spirit. Mrs. Sanderson must have seen +the uncomfortable flush that I felt mounting to my cheeks, for in her +inimitable way she apologized.</p> + +<p>"Dear little saint," she said, coaxingly;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> "forgive me if I am less +sentimental than yourself. It is, perhaps, because I have lived too long +in this stupid world to believe in it very much. Alas! I am not a poet, +and my blood runs cooler every day." A half tragic expression, the +suggestion of regret, darkened the woman's handsome, composed face. In +an instant it fled, leaving no trace of emotion.</p> + +<p>I was much relieved to find that Mariposilla had kindly restrained +Marjorie's saccharine yearnings. The child was obediently awaiting +permission to eat a chocolate cream.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla, too, had a box of candy. Sidney gallantly handed about +another, which I saw was intended to insure the Spanish girl's +individual claim to the little gift he had just made her.</p> + +<p>As we left the shop, Mrs. Sanderson's eye caught sight of a window just +beyond, in which was displayed a choice collection of Indian baskets. +The craze had seized the lady the year before, returning with renewed +vigor, she laughingly owned, when Sidney attempted to restrain her +covetous longings. Her son declared that it would even now be +impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> to take home all the trash she had accumulated.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," she insisted, "we shall look at the collection. I can see +at a glance that it is a fine one, and it is not yet time to go to the +Waltons'."</p> + +<p>The collection in question, we learned, was a private one offered for +sale by a boom victim, whose inflated ideas of Pasadena real estate had +at one time stimulated his artistic desires to ruinous extravagance. At +that time he had ransacked the country for miles around for rare +baskets, regardless of price, which now he was obliged to sell.</p> + +<p>I learned later that Mrs. Sanderson was ever upon the look-out for +forced sales. Keenly alive to chances for procuring things at half +price, she was always alert for the critical moment.</p> + +<p>Her enthusiasms over the existing opportunities were those of a +connoisseur loaded with the offered commodity, yet unable to endure the +thought of a Philistine invasion.</p> + +<p>She said it was wrong for her to consider the purchase of another Indian +basket, but if the beautiful cora with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> feathers was not so +extravagant in price she might possibly add it to her collection.</p> + +<p>The clerk in attendance now signaled the owner of the baskets from the +rear of the store. The gentleman came at once, and tried in vain to +convince Mrs. Sanderson that the cora with the feathers was so unusually +rare that it was worth much more than the price demanded. He said +pathetically that his collection was very dear to him, he loved each +basket with a different degree of affection, for he had discovered them +all. Each had a little history.</p> + +<p>Dearest of all was the beautiful cora which the lady admired, and +nothing but absolute necessity compelled him to part with it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson replied that she understood perfectly his feelings. She, +too, had always been a great collector. She had even at this late day +discovered baskets, and knew now of a Mexican settlement where valuable +things were still in hiding. She thought she would soon go upon a tour +of discovery, and perhaps she might find a cora with feathers. She was +sorry not to assist the gentleman in his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>difficulties. She would be +very fond of the feather basket, she knew, and if the price were reduced +upon three larger baskets as well as upon the one she admired, she might +possibly take all four. However, she had best flee from temptation. It +was getting late, after twelve, and the Waltons were expecting them at +one.</p> + +<p>With her inimitable smile she bade us make haste to depart, while she +sympathetically hoped, in the hearing of the obsequious clerk who opened +the door, that the feather basket might soon find a purchaser who would +appreciate its beauty.</p> + +<p>As she left the store her deliberation was masterly. Before she had +reached the sidewalk the clerk had motioned her back. The four baskets +were hers at half their value.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span></h2> + +<p>On our way to luncheon we drove between palms and flowers, the entire +length of a long, well-kept avenue. Located at its end is a group of +small hills, each of which has been eagerly selected for a home site +because of the incomparable advantages of the situation. Conspicuous +among these knolls is Crown Hill, the home of the Waltons. Unique as an +island in its individual charm, its gentle slopes are surrounded on all +sides by traveled roads which define perfectly its boundaries, while +they protect from intrusion the low-gabled country house which stands in +the heart of six acres, cresting hospitably the hill. The landscape upon +all sides is strikingly beautiful. From the south and west the pastoral +harmony of the view is enhanced by a chain of wooded hills evading the +advances of civilization, as they smile serenely upon extensive gardens +and picturesque homes. Upon other sides glorious snow-capped <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>mountains, +glittering with Alpine splendor, intensify the rich, ever-changing tones +of the long, over-lapping chain. The day was so fresh and bright that as +we drove to Crown Hill a new luster seemed upon the earth. As we +ascended the gentle slope, Ethel waved us a welcome from the broad +veranda. When we alighted, too entranced to enter the house, the elder +sister appeared.</p> + +<p>"Is it not lovely?" Ethel cried enthusiastically, perceiving our delight +at the unbroken landscape. "Don't hurry us, Margaret," the girl +implored, when Miss Walton began to evince a slight nervousness at our +delay in entering. "Daddy is not here to point out the unsurpassed +beauties of the hill; so his own girl must see that no points are +overlooked, even if luncheon does wait a minute. You see," Ethel +continued as we turned slowly to enter the house, drawn by the +persistent expression upon Miss Margaret's apprehensive countenance; +"this place belongs to Daddy and me. Mamma and Margaret own the house in +New York. Every year they go back to its dingy magnificence, and imagine +themselves supremely happy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> When they sit in the middle drawing-room, +that looks so touchingly upon our neighbors' brick side-wall, their +enjoyment is rare. The place has to be lighted all day with electric +lanterns, but it matters not to these two deluded souls. They are +enjoying themselves in the swell room of the house—so very oriental, +don't you know?"</p> + +<p>"Do be quiet, Ethel, and show our friends in," the elder sister +implored. "Margaret is an absolute tyrant," the girl replied, leading us +beyond the wide, inviting hall, into a large, sunny drawing-room that at +once captivated us with its individuality.</p> + +<p>As we entered between the portières I noticed that Mariposilla flushed +with delight. The child had never before been in so lovely a room. Its +warm delicacy was a strange contrast to the gaudy, half-grotesque, +half-religious apartments to which she had been accustomed. Ethel, +perceiving her pleasure, smiled encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"You like my room?" she said, kindly. "It is all mine, and, to be +honest, I am proud of it. You see how differently I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> have worked for my +effects from the usual methods," she said, turning to Mrs. Sanderson, +who was exclaiming over the restfulness of the furniture. "I am so glad +that you are pleased," Ethel continued, "for I had much to combat before +I was allowed to fire oppressive upholsterings in favor of lovely Morris +cottons."</p> + +<p>The girl had indeed caught the spirit of her semi-tropical climate; for +the room was charmingly in sympathy with the world outside of the +windows. The rough walls, pale yellow, in combination with the paneled +ceiling and colonial casings, painted cream, had surely created a +perfect background for the admirable furnishings. Never before had +quaint chairs and deep couches looked so inviting as these in Morris +cottons. Their creamy tone, relieved by soft browns and warm yellows, +defied the sordid observer, who could never quite estimate their yard +value. The broad windows were curtained in simple falls of dainty lace +of open texture that excluded neither sunlight nor landscape. In the +colonial fireplace burned a real fire of huge logs, that was never +allowed to die out, and warmed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> with irresistible comfort the fresh, +healthful atmosphere of the room. In unsuspected corners and in bold +situations, great satsuma jars filled with ferns and tall papyrus +emphasized the possibilities of a Pasadena home. Cheerful watercolors in +plain white frames adorned the walls, while above the fire, an old +French mirror caught from the picture-window opposite the distant +shadows and sunlit spurs of the peaceful Mother Mountains. Long-stemmed +roses and dear old silver candlesticks gleamed side by side upon a +quaint, inviting tea-table, which, close by the glowing fire, shone like +a glimpse from America's most picturesque period, adorned with the +dainty relics of a colonial tea-set.</p> + +<p>"The room is superb," Mrs. Sanderson declared, as she surveyed +critically its artistic details. The rich oriental rugs and large white +Angora skins thickly strewn upon the straw matting completely captivated +Mariposilla. She timidly sank her feet into a rug lying before one of +the broad couches, blushing perceptibly, I thought, at the recollection +of her own humble home.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>The simple child was nearly frightened by the prevalent luxury, and but +for the watchful attentions of Ethel, might have grown uncomfortable. +With infinite tact her pretty hostess led her about, with the +familiarity of a sister, often coaxing her into artless bursts of +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"The library is papa's success," Ethel explained as we sauntered +reluctantly from the beautiful drawing room. "You see," she continued, +"Papa, too, has made a California room. Excepting his books, there is +hardly a vestige of civilization to be found."</p> + +<p>It was even as the daughter had said, a room in which literature and the +odor of fragrant cigars alone suggested a modern epoch. The decorations, +if such they could be called, were all Indian. Rare tribe blankets +covered the floor and couches, serving not only for portières, but in +parts of the room for wall hangings. Against these blankets were +displayed an unrivaled collection of rich old baskets. Upon one wall was +stretched a gorgeous Indian genealogy, the handiwork of a gifted squaw, +while the skin of a mammoth grizzly, the huge head still intact,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +reposed in front of the fireplace. From chimney shelf to ceiling hung +weapons and finery pertaining to the aboriginal chase.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Ethel, when Miss Margaret demanded once more our immediate +attendance upon luncheon, "we will strike for high civilization—my +sister's own kingdom!" Upon seating ourselves about the great round +table in the perfectly appointed dining-room, I observed that Sidney had +been placed between Ethel and Mariposilla, while Marjorie and I had been +assigned places opposite. I could see Mariposilla's every motion without +appearing to watch her, and I confess that I was at first slightly +agitated, fearing the ordeal might prove embarrassing, not only for the +child, but for ourselves.</p> + +<p>I was sure that she had never before been seated at so stylish a +lunch-table. In spite of its cultivated informality, there was for the +unsophisticated girl an unintelligible problem close at hand in the +complicated appointments of her plate.</p> + +<p>While we spoke of the exquisite <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>long-stemmed pink roses that filled a +cut-glass punch-bowl in the center of the table, I could see Mariposilla +regarding quietly the array of silver encompassing her place. If I again +doubted the propriety of what we had done, it was evident that but one +method of escape remained—to make plain my every motion. Even as the +idea seized me I perceived that the Spanish child had hit upon the plan +herself, and was nervefully determined not to disgrace her friends.</p> + +<p>As luncheon proceeded I almost forgot my fears in admiration for the +child's pluck. Her sensible, observant conduct delighted me, and I no +longer doubted her fitness for any social position to which she might be +raised.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson, as usual, captivated the party with gay sallies of wit. +Her pretty allusions to the faultless details of Miss Walton's table won +for her at once Miss Margaret's approval.</p> + +<p>"Your starched Celestial fills me with reverence," she declared, when +the impassible Wong left the dining-room, after depositing, with +majestic importance, a wonderful salad.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>"He never allows the maid to bring in the salad," Ethel explained, +mirthfully. "He considers a salad the culmination of his art, and +generally announces for the benefit of our guests, 'Heap fine salad! +Muchey good.'"</p> + +<p>"You tempt me to set up a house in Pasadena," Mrs. Sanderson said, "if +for no other reason than to eat, as often as possible before I die, a +perfect salad such as this. Shall we not start an establishment at once, +Sid? for the joy of a Wong who enjoys entertaining as much as does his +mistress? Can you invite friends in this irresponsible way at any time?" +the lady asked, earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," answered Ethel, "nothing delights Wong so much as company. +You know, a good Chinese servant is quite ignorant of his spinal +organism. He expects to serve you well for what you pay him, exonerating +you delightfully from the heavy obligations often imposed in America by +ambitious females who assist at cooking for a pastime."</p> + +<p>"Then you really don't have to hold a preliminary caucus to ascertain +the state of the cook's health and temper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> before you can find courage +to invite a few friends to dinner?" Mrs. Sanderson answered, +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" said Ethel. "A good Chinaman has the greatest reverence +for caste; his respect for his mistress depends largely upon what he +shrewdly determines in regard to her position in society. 'She very +high-tone lady,' is his favorite expression for a thoroughly admired +mistress. He considers it an honor not only to serve her to the best of +his ability, but regards her friends with equal consideration."</p> + +<p>"How delightfully comfortable it all sounds! Yet is there not a +possibility of converting these same convenient heathen into a state of +uselessness, rather than to Christianity?" Mrs. Sanderson pursued. "I +have heard," the lady continued, "that enthusiasts are already +metamorphosing some of the best cooks into poets and orators, as well as +first-class laundrymen into political economists."</p> + +<p>"Now," laughed Ethel, "you are tramping poor Margaret's toes. When we +first came to California my sister approved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> warmly of the education of +the downtrodden Celestial, but I fear that experience has withered her +philanthropy. One boy that we had, after professing a most devout +conversion, which necessitated his departure to school at the most +inconvenient times, suddenly conceived a renewed longing for the +exciting informalities of Chinese New Year.</p> + +<p>"He told Margaret, as he bade her a polite good morning, that he 'no +likey be good velly long. Have more fun be heap bad some time. Good Boss +forgive sins all samey when you be heap solly after while.' Even sister +was crushed by the theology. Our next boy was a genuine heathen."</p> + +<p>"I am astonished, Ethel," said Miss Walton, "I hope you will never again +repeat that blasphemous story."</p> + +<p>"Forgive her," entreated Mrs. Sanderson, "I would not have missed it for +a great deal, and although it seems unfortunate that our romantic +philanthropy is often quenched by a downpour of common sense, yet it is +perhaps safest for the world after all. I shall never cease to enjoy +your story, Miss Ethel. When my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> sympathies threaten to melt my +judgments I shall think of your theological heathen who rose superior to +his instructors, able to grasp so cleverly the pleasant features of +Christianity without its inconveniences."</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Sanderson finished her irreligious sally, Miss Walton's +pained, shocked expression was most apparent. She concentrated her +attention upon her jelly, with a well-bred annoyance that was readily +understood by the offender. The calculating woman, with no desire to +anger the truly conscientious girl, whose sectarian delight in the +teachings of her church made it impossible for her to tolerate the +semblance of skepticism, gracefully shifted the conversation to the +engrossing cotillion, afterward bearing down with conciliatory intent +upon the Christmas bazar soon to be held by the Guild of Miss Margaret's +church.</p> + +<p>"We will all come," she said, as we left the table. "One soon loses step +with events in San Gabriel, but the bazar will help us to catch up with +the world," she added, mirthfully.</p> + +<p>That Mrs. Sanderson was a scoffer of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> the most captivating and dangerous +type can not be denied. She loved to ridicule uninteresting things and +commonplace people; and doubtless this fact accounted for the dearth of +friends answering to her own age. It was to unthinking youth that the +flashing sarcasms and stinging flings at established usages and sacred +traditions appeared the embodiment of brilliant repartee. In complete +contradiction to her caustic beliefs, she seemed to the young the soul +of sincerity, working ever the most unselfish conditions for their +enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson disliked old people inhumanly, while she courted, with +every possible inducement, the society of the young.</p> + +<p>"I have a morbid horror of growing old," she would say. "Sid won't +promise to poison me, so I suppose I must provide myself with a +daughter-in-law. My best blood is French, and when the illusions are +once dispelled each new wrinkle will torture." On the day of the +luncheon, as we sauntered from the drawing-room into the library, Mrs. +Sanderson declared that she had conceived an idea for old age. "Your +father's study is an inspiration,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> she exclaimed, turning to Ethel. "As +soon as I am sixty I shall take down all the mirrors in my house and +prepare a similar retiring room, although more entirely barbaric. There +shall be no vestige of civilization in my den, nothing to encourage +reminiscences, nothing to suggest the masterful march of time. I see now +that it is the certainty of one's period which crushes. Indian +decorations mean absolutely nothing to the uninitiated. Wrapped in the +blanket of a remote chief one could forget even his birthday. There +shall be nothing in my room to remind me every hour that I am a +grandmother. Nothing to say—'You bought me thirty years ago,' or, 'We +are both growing threadbare together. Your hair is white and thin, while +I am quite out of style.' No, my dears, if I live to be old, I shall +never be tortured by relics of my own period. However," the cold, +worldly woman continued, smiling irresistibly upon her young companions, +who failed to comprehend her heartless theories, "I am not sixty. I have +several years before I must take to a blanket, so let us return to the +pretty drawing-room and Mariposilla<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> will play one of her witching +Spanish dances."</p> + +<p>"Be spry, Sid," she commanded, when the Spanish child obediently seated +herself upon a low chair preparatory to tuning the guitar, "a footstool +for the little feet; they look so pretty upon a cushion."</p> + +<p>The lady's open flattery appeared no longer to embarrass Mariposilla; +she was gradually growing accustomed to that, but when Sidney placed in +front of her the footstool, a richer flush intensified her beauty.</p> + +<p>"She must have a mantilla for her head," Mrs. Sanderson cried, as she +caught from her own shoulders the rich Spanish lace scarf, which she +wore in her drives as a throat protector. She threw it lightly over the +girl's dark head, allowing the ends to fall about her scarlet frock. +"There! is she not a divine señorita?" she exclaimed, as she viewed her +blushing plaything with critical delight. "Is she not exquisite?" she +continued shamelessly. "See how easily we have caught the loveliest +butterfly in all Old Spain! Play! Mariposilla, play!"</p> + +<p>When the child obediently struck the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> strings of the guitar, Mrs. +Sanderson declared that American women knew nothing of dress. "Why do we +not burn our bonnets, that our lovers may kneel to our lace mantillas?" +she said to Ethel.</p> + +<p>As Mariposilla paused in her playing, all applauded with the exception +of Miss Walton. From the first, she had appeared annoyed by the dramatic +conditions of the afternoon. As our hostess, she was oppressed with +suppression. I could see that the literal young woman, viewing all +things from a narrow and conventional standpoint, longed to escape from +the theatrical atmosphere which Mrs. Sanderson had so unexpectedly +created.</p> + +<p>I myself may have doubted the propriety of Mrs. Sanderson's course, but +at the time, I did not doubt the woman, and was so completely bewitched +by Mariposilla's beauty, that I failed to disapprove what appeared to be +only a pleasant pastime.</p> + +<p>Never before had I seen any one so lovely as this young girl. The rich +tints had kindled beneath her cheeks, while her eyes, when she lifted +them, shone with lambent reflections of wonderful, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>half-understood joy. +She appeared a vision from a lost century, playing upon the credulity of +the present.</p> + +<p>I do not wish to give the impression that Mariposilla was a marvelous +musician, for such was not the case. She only played with an original +abandon which made her movements and the customary little tricks of her +instrument appear more masterly than in reality they were. Her playing +depended entirely upon her mood, and that she was now happy, carried far +away from vexation or possible disappointment, was plain; for the +slender brown fingers picked the strings as never before. She seemed +perfectly absorbed in her music, and only when the long lashes lifted +for a moment did her wonderful eyes proclaim the truth she was +attempting to hide. When the lashes again drooped, soft, telltale +shadows quivered beneath the dark fringe that hid her impassioned joy. +The ridges of her small ears grew pink, her lips richer. The merest +reflection of dimples fled and returned to the glowing cheeks, as each +new emotion revealed her happy secret.</p> + +<p>The day, I have said, had been unusually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> warm. The sun had reached its +meridian without faltering; only above the mountains had the fathomless +blue of the sky been broken by a few thin clouds. Unexpectedly the air +grew chill as the sun fled behind a bank of fog, which spread each +moment with amazing density upon the valley.</p> + +<p>With the first dimming of the day, a change appeared in Mariposilla; +while Miss Walton grew at once serene. Unexpectedly and discordantly the +Spanish child ended her performance. Like a frightened bird she +fluttered to my side, her color gone, her courage shaken.</p> + +<p>"We must go," I said, turning to Mrs. Sanderson. "Marjorie must not be +exposed to the fog," I explained, as we bade good bye to Miss Walton and +Ethel. There appeared to be a mock significance in Miss Margaret's thin +voice when she invited us to repeat our visit. Ethel alone accompanied +us to the door.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER IX.</span></h2> + +<p>Never before had the unpretentious home of the Doña Maria Del Valle +appeared so complete a refuge as upon our return after the eventful day +in Pasadena. In the living-room our kind hostess had lighted a fire of +grotesque grape roots, that writhed like a holocaust of mummies. After +the gloom without, our welcome seemed perfect. The ruddy flames from the +fireplace, flickering against the dusky walls, had mercifully relieved +the row of saints, who in the daytime appeared to suffer persistently +the throes of indigestion. Likewise, from her frame above the chimney +shelf the little Spanish Virgin smiled serenely upon her holy Child. In +the firelight, she seemed to forget her atrocious finery in the sweet +consciousness of her maternity.</p> + +<p>The aged grandmother dozed in her accustomed chair. At her feet the +grayhounds, Pancho and Pachita, sprawled in longitudinal grace, dead +dogs, to all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>appearances, until a trespassing footstep attested their +vigilance.</p> + +<p>A faint, delicious odor of frijoles floated from the kitchen when the +Doña Maria opened the door to bid us welcome home.</p> + +<p>Marjorie flew to the strong arms overjoyed; but Mariposilla avoided her +mother as she hastily retreated to her own room, remaining apart until +called to supper.</p> + +<p>The watchful Doña Maria, observing that her child could eat nothing, +artlessly inquired the cause. "Are not the frijoles inviting?" she +asked, in simple distress. "I have prepared them most fresh, and the oil +is from a new bottle," the good woman pursued.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps my child is not well; if so, it is unfortunate that she should +have gone from home, for the good Father and Sister Francisco came at +noon. While I served them with fruit and wine the Father told much of +our dear Arturo, expressing often great joy that so fine a youth grows +rich, soon to return to the friends who await him with so much +affection. Sister Francisco was grieved that the convent is no more dear +to her child. She requested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> that the days be few until a visit is paid, +and left with her love a little gift."</p> + +<p>As the Doña Maria paused, she arose from the table and handed +Mariposilla a small religious book.</p> + +<p>The child had controlled herself with stoical determination throughout +her mother's reproachful disclosures, but, unable to do so longer, she +burst into tears and fled from the room.</p> + +<p>The calm Doña Maria took no notice of the tempestuous departure, but the +grandmother appeared distressed, muttering her disapproval in Spanish.</p> + +<p>I confess that I felt annoyed at Mariposilla's conduct. I could see no +reason for the outburst of grief and felt myself an innocent agent in +unsettling her happiness and disturbing her family.</p> + +<p>After supper, when I had undressed Marjorie, who was soon asleep, and +had put on a chamber gown preparatory to writing letters, a timid tap at +my door told me that Mariposilla was without. So fond had I become of +the child that I instantly forgot my recent resentment. Not waiting for +the penitent to come to me I met her at the door. Drawing her to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +couch I urged her to tell me quietly the cause of her unhappiness.</p> + +<p>"The señora will think me unworthy of her love," she cried, chokingly.</p> + +<p>"No, dear," I replied, "I shall always love you. I have had many sorrows +myself, and I know how hard it is to speak of them; but always when I +have confided in a true friend, I have felt better and sorry that I had +not sought relief sooner."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," she said, "and then you may despise me."</p> + +<p>She was very beautiful as she half drooped before me, her great eyes +moist, her dark hair loose about her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all, dear child," I urged, as she still hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I am most wicked!" she cried desperately. "I love not my people; I am +unhappy because I am not an American."</p> + +<p>A gush of tears terminated the confession.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" I said, drawing her to my side; "I am glad that you have +told me your trouble, for I think I can help you very soon."</p> + +<p>She lifted her face appealingly while I spoke.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," I continued, "I am sure that I understand your unhappiness. You +are not untrue to your people. You only desire to be an American because +you have perceived that they are more in touch with the times than your +own nation, who, from loss of fortune and other causes, are not what +they once were, or what they will some day be again. Your poor little +heart and mind are starving for food. You must be nourished, and then +you will be happy. It is perfectly right that you should admire the +superior attainments and polished manners of a race not your own. It +means no disloyalty to your people, only the desire for a broader life +and a higher culture.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure, dear child, that no one is ever satisfied. The +yearnings of the heart after unattainable desires is common in God's +wide creation. The longings of the savage are only different in degree +from yours or mine. Race puts no limits upon pure and laudable ambition.</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary for you to be an American to be all that a lovely +woman should be. The daughter of the brave, wonderful Doña Maria Del +Valle can make of herself whatever she determines."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>Mariposilla was still weeping gently.</p> + +<p>"You are very beautiful, dear child," I continued. "More beautiful than +any American girl I ever knew. Still there is a beauty which shines from +the soul and from the mind that you must try daily to acquire. Then you +will be lovely, without flaw.</p> + +<p>"If only you will be patient and true to your best ambitions, I am sure +that a great happiness will some day come into your life. Try to be +contented. Be a dutiful daughter to your dear mother, who has seen so +much sorrow, and has left only her precious child. Please her in all +things that are possible, and if you will do this I am sure that after a +time you will understand how wise and unselfish she has always been."</p> + +<p>Instantly the girl released herself, while she faced me with a +passionate despair I will never forget.</p> + +<p>"I will do all," she cried, "but marry Arturo. If I do not that I have +done nothing. The priest and my mother and the sisters at the convent +will curse me if I refuse. They will call me a shame, and, although I +love not Arturo, they would sell me for his gold."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>"No, dear," I entreated, "no one will compel you to marry Arturo. +Believe me, you shall do as you please, only you must not allow unjust +suspicions to make you miserable. Think no more for the present of +marriage, try only to learn things that will fit you for life and +happiness; after a time, if one should come whom you love, you can then +not only make him joyful with your great beauty, but he will love and +respect you, because you have acquired the knowledge that makes life +agreeable and comfortable long after youth and beauty have flown."</p> + +<p>"The señora is most wise," the child assented calmly. "Perhaps she will +teach me a little from her books, that I, too, may learn of the great +world; for, indeed, I will be good," she cried, brightening with the +determination.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mariposilla," I replied; "each day you shall have a lesson in +English, and soon you will be able to enjoy all that I enjoy; only in +return you must teach me Spanish, that I may also understand the +language and literature of your famous race."</p> + +<p>Thus the compact was sealed, and each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> day afterward found Mariposilla +seated quietly in my room, poring over an allotted task. Her stormy +passions seemed stilled. If the wind of destiny sometimes shrieked in my +watchful ears, it more frequently sighed plaintively as I devised new +educational schemes for my protégée.</p> + +<p>No one was more delighted over Mariposilla's apparent reformation than +the Doña Maria.</p> + +<p>Not only did the lessons progress with astonishing regularity, but work +on the altar cloth, which had been for long intervals neglected so that +its various stages of completion were easily detected in the several +soiled sections of the linen, was resumed with steady, plodding +determination. Now but one row of the little Jesus stitch remained to be +done in the beautiful cloth ordered months before by a wealthy devotee.</p> + +<p>The Doña Maria was in ecstasies when her daughter brought the task +finished, two days before Christmas; at the same time begging permission +to ride to Pasadena that she might receive for her labor the great sum +of thirty dollars.</p> + +<p>That same morning, when Mariposilla<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> was pressing carefully the handsome +piece of linen, Father Ramirez had looked into the kitchen and praised +her industry.</p> + +<p>"After all, she is a dear child," the old priest said, patting the dark +head. "She will yet make a true woman like her dear mother. Before long +Arturo will come, and the bells of Old San Gabriel shall ring again as +they rang for the Doña Maria long ago."</p> + +<p>Mariposilla flushed not. A deadly pallor extinguished the healthy glow +that the light labor had produced. Turning disrespectfully away, she +darted through the open door, and was gone.</p> + +<p>It was only after the old priest had left and the Sandersons had driven +into the long green tunnel that color shone again beneath the surface of +her cheeks.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER X.</span></h2> + +<p>The Sandersons did not remain long at the ranch. After their departure +Mariposilla saddled the pony, and, bidding us a gleeful adieu, cantered +away with the precious altar cloth.</p> + +<p>At parting, the Doña Maria had given her child, for a surprise, a dozen +exquisite doilies of her own workmanship. They were bestowed as a reward +for the girl's recent industry, and she was permitted to sell them with +the altar cloth.</p> + +<p>"Shall I not be rich?" she cried, brandishing in excitement a superb +riding whip, a remnant of former glories. "When I am come again the +señora will go with me to Los Angeles. There I shall buy beautiful +things for you all."</p> + +<p>An instant later she was flying down the green tunnel. As she passed +between the mammoth century plants, she waved once more her whip—and +was gone.</p> + +<p>"Dear child!" I said, as we entered the house.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," said the mother, "she is good of heart. If only she would listen +to the advice of Father Ramirez and marry Arturo, we might all be once +more joyful."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, "I hope it may yet be as you desire; but, if you will +pardon me, dear Doña Maria, for speaking plainly, let no priest or other +person come between your child and yourself. Mariposilla is still so +young that she is absolutely frightened at the thought of marriage. Let +her develop gradually in her own way, willful though it may appear.</p> + +<p>"I am sure that after a time, when Arturo returns, handsome and +successful, she will accept his proffered love."</p> + +<p>The Doña Maria's great, sad eyes filled with happy tears. "Blessings be +on you, dear lady!" she said; "I shall ever be happy that it has been +sweet to have given you our home."</p> + +<p>Kind Doña Maria! it was exactly what she had done—she had given us her +home. Generously, she had taken two strangers into her great motherly +heart to dwell.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson was to come this same afternoon, for a lesson in drawn +work.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>As I dropped into my accustomed nook of the veranda, the industrious +Doña Maria hastened out to the kitchen to perform a remaining duty. +Then, before she had made the still rich, dark hair tidy, and perhaps +said a prayer to the little wooden Virgin in the corner of her bedroom, +her pupil had arrived. Mrs. Sanderson was driven by a groom; her son was +not with her.</p> + +<p>Sidney had gone coursing with some people from East San Gabriel who kept +hounds, she explained.</p> + +<p>I remember that I wondered instantly if the man had followed +Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>As it was impossible to know, I could only appear interested in the +progress of the drawn work. For some unknown reason the lesson soon +lagged. Mrs. Sanderson grew irritable over her indifferent success, and +for the first time wearied me a little.</p> + +<p>The lady was in one of her intolerant moods. Her captious rejoinders and +censorious criticisms upon the guests of the hotel annoyed me. I +realized for the first time that possibly I myself might sometime become +a target for my capricious friend's sarcasms.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>Marjorie wanted to go for a walk, so, excusing myself, we departed.</p> + +<p>Holding my little one's hand, I tried to forget, in her sweet, +unconscious talk, the caustic brilliancy of the woman I had left. Every +stray dog or resting bird that enlivened our walk delighted the child. +When we came to some anthills she grew flushed and excited as she built +a fence about the thriving city to protect it against the invasion of +tarantulas.</p> + +<p>Ever since Antonio, the Mexican, had unearthed a tarantula one morning +in the corner of the orchard, Marjorie had regarded the ugly yet +comparatively harmless creature as California's one demon. Romancing in +her play, she slew the formidable monsters in single imaginary combat, +enjoying among the birds and butterflies the same enviable notoriety +that St. Patrick attained when the snakes fled from the Emerald Isle.</p> + +<p>Watching my child at play, I scarcely realized that the short winter day +was rapidly settling into twilight. At once hastening home, we found +Mrs. Sanderson gone and the Doña Maria busy preparing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> supper. Half an +hour later it was dark and Mariposilla had not yet come.</p> + +<p>I could see that the Doña Maria was uneasy, for she went often to the +door, once as far as the turn in the driveway. Supper was now waiting. +The frijoles were in steaming readiness, and yet Mariposilla was absent.</p> + +<p>All were growing alarmed, when the dashing of horses' hoofs told me that +not one but two persons had arrived. In a moment, I had flashed the +light of the room through the open door into the night.</p> + +<p>I heard distinctly the sweet, low voice of Mariposilla and saw her +lifted to the ground from her pony. In the uncertain light the strong +arms of Sidney Sanderson appeared to poise dangerously long the girlish +form that resisted not the delay of the transit.</p> + +<p>I doubt if the Doña Maria saw what I believed that I saw, for at the +time I think she had turned to speak to the anxious grandmother; then, +satisfied that the child had returned, she left the room.</p> + +<p>The barking of the vigilant dogs had drawn me instantly to the door, and +I remember how positively certain I then felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> that Sidney had kissed +Mariposilla during her groundward journey.</p> + +<p>At the moment I believed entirely that he had done this thing, I was +filled with indignation, and ready to denounce him fearlessly, until +Mariposilla, bounding to my side, radiantly innocent, from the uncertain +darkness, implored me to assist in detaining for supper the kind friend +who had proved himself so invaluable during the afternoon. I stood +bewildered as the child proceeded to disarm my suspicions. Calling her +mother from the kitchen, she begged her to press the invitation that +Sidney was hesitating to accept.</p> + +<p>That Mariposilla could be acting a part seemed impossible. Involuntarily +I followed the girl from her disappearance between the century plants +early in the afternoon, up to the present time, when she stood before +me, dazzling and lovely, telling what to all appearance was nothing but +the truth.</p> + +<p>As we seated ourselves about the supper table, I knew that my suspicions +were rapidly subsiding. Later I denounced myself humbly, for allowing my +imagination the absolute freedom of the night.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>Sidney had never before appeared so manly or straightforward. He seemed +highly amused at Mariposilla's ecstasy over his apparently accidental +appearance upon the scene of her disasters, while he ate with innocent +relish the supper which the hospitable Doña Maria delighted to serve.</p> + +<p>"I was ruined but for Mr. Sanderson," the Spanish girl explained +tragically. "I could not have gone to Los Angeles with the señora, and +the precious things for Christmas could not have been bought; because I +had stupidly lost the altar cloth and the gift of my mother. I was +returning home miserable, without the money for which I had labored; +wild with anger when I remembered how I had gone almost to Pasadena +before I knew that my treasures were lost. For wicked Chiquita had shied +in many places, and many strangers had passed upon the road, so I knew +that to search in hope would be useless. I could only weep upon the neck +of my bad Chiquita, feeling ashamed, but unable to forget my sorrow. It +was then that my friend saw me, and restored again my treasures.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p><p>"Was it not kind in our dear Lady to send him so quickly; almost as +soon as I had prayed through tears one little prayer?</p> + +<p>"Oh! it was joy to see again my things in the hand of a friend, when I +had believed them found by a stranger."</p> + +<p>As the child paused, she looked confidingly at Sidney, who smiled assent +to what she had been saying.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he affirmed with unusual animation, "I was permitted to play, for +the first time in my life, the exalted rôle of the good old man who +comes out of the bushes just in time to save the beautiful princess from +disaster."</p> + +<p>We all laughed, but Mariposilla sank her lovely face lower, while she +regarded her plate intently.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she lifted her great earnest eyes fearlessly to my own. They +were full of light and happiness. I doubted no longer that she was +innocent of what I had imagined.</p> + +<p>"I will call the señora early," Mariposilla said, when Sidney had gone +and we were parting for the night. She had been dancing about the room +clicking, in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>imitation of castanets, her cherished gold pieces.</p> + +<p>"Is it not grand to be rich?" she cried. "How happy I am this night! I +shall never be so happy again."</p> + +<p>She looked strangely prophetic as she spoke. She had not removed her +riding habit, and, while dancing, she caught up gracefully the +insubordinate skirt, which trammeled her exuberance. Floating about the +room, she appeared unconscious of everything but the delights of her +awakened body. Her feet and arms moved in an ecstasy of unrestraint. The +abandoned sway of her agile frame caught naturally each modulation of +the improvised castanets.</p> + +<p>"Come, dear Butterfly," I said, when she threw herself panting into a +chair, her eyes shining with excitement. "Fly quickly to bed or the +pretty wings will be weary for the hard, long to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the beautiful to-morrow!" she cried, rapturously. "I will call the +señora early—that not one moment of the precious day may be lost."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XI.</span></h2> + +<p>True to the arrangement, I heard the little bare feet patter across the +hall to my door with the first gleam of the bright December morning.</p> + +<p>The Doña Maria had prepared an early breakfast, but Mariposilla could +eat nothing in her excitement. The gold pieces were carefully counted +into the little purse, and the deliberate Antonio was soundly scolded +for his delay in bringing around the pony hitched to the old buggy, +which I earnestly hoped would not fall to pieces short of the station.</p> + +<p>As we parted from the Doña Maria, she requested me to select a +ready-made frock for Mariposilla, explaining that her daughter had been +invited to spend a week at the East San Gabriel Hotel with Mrs. +Sanderson.</p> + +<p>I was so astonished at the announcement that I could hardly conceal my +surprise; but the Doña Maria not appearing to notice it, I replied that +I would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> happy to serve her; at the same time, I decided to take +Marjorie and go myself to the hotel. Mrs. Sanderson had urged us to come +repeatedly, and I felt that now the invitation was imperative. +Mariposilla should not go to the Sandersons' alone. I had instituted +myself her guardian, and I would protect her not only from her +inexperience, but from unscrupulous attentions, selfishly bestowed.</p> + +<p>I knew that Mrs. Sanderson had secured the Doña Maria's consent for her +daughter's visit to the hotel during my absence the previous afternoon; +and I saw at once that Mariposilla had not known of the plan before. +However, her first demonstrative joy was smothered in quiet ecstasy. All +the way to the city she was rapturously solemn. Only her telltale color +and her eyes confessed the exciting dreams which were filling her +innocent brain.</p> + +<p>As the purchase of the dress had now become the mainspring of our +expedition, we went, at the termination of our short journey, directly +to a store, announcing through show windows its distinctive claim to +imported novelties. Upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> threshold we were met by a smiling French +saleswoman, possibly the only genuine importation in stock, but +wonderfully successful in discounting the abnormal developments of +Hebrew physiognomy visible in the ever watchful proprietor.</p> + +<p>It was but the work of a moment to abandon ourselves completely to the +feminine joy of our undertaking. Once within the toils of the +Frenchwoman, escape appeared the height of ingratitude.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla was soon radiant with delight as she tried on, for the first +time in her uneventful life, costume after costume, commenting +innocently upon the merits of one, while she deplored the deficiencies +of another. After many trials, she had almost decided to take a pretty, +rich blue serge, enlivened with touches of gay plaided silk, when the +wily saleswoman brought out unexpectedly from a perfumed box a beautiful +dress of cream cloth.</p> + +<p>The child held her breath as she begged to try on the wonderful frock +with the jaunty, sleeveless jacket, worn over a soft, creamy silk waist, +the entire costume<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> daintily brightened with bands, embroidered in gold +thread. When she stood arrayed before the long mirror, regarding +affectionately the stylish puff of the sleeves, and the circular, +girlish effect of the throat, outlined by a band of gold, her simple +vanity forgot concealment.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle is most bewitching!" the Frenchwoman exclaimed. "She can +not find one other costume so becoming. Her complexion looks most +perfect! So harmonious! So delightful!"</p> + +<p>In the mirror I could see reflected Mariposilla's extravagant joy. She +had never in her life before been so beautifully dressed. Instinctively +she snatched from her head her hat, discovering with quick perception +that its somber shabbiness detracted from the general effect of the +dainty costume. Standing for a moment unconscious of the audience, she +threw a kiss to her own lovely image. Realizing what she had done, she +flushed deeper and turned away.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle is an artist! She perceives that she looks most +beautiful," the Frenchwoman pursued. "She must certainly buy the +costume. There is about it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> an air. It has just arrived, and will soon +be sold. Mademoiselle must not hesitate."</p> + +<p>For the first time the thought of the price presented a possible +drawback to the inexperienced child. She turned from the mirror, +touchingly in earnest in her inquiry. "How much does it cost?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>When the saleswoman named the amount the disappointed girl began +heroically to remove the jacket. As she laid it aside she turned +instinctively to me for sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I cannot pay the price," she whispered. "It would take all that I have, +and there would be nothing left to buy the shawl for my mother, or the +slippers for my grandmother, or the doll for Marjorie."</p> + +<p>A moment longer she hesitated, the mist of disappointment gleaming in +her eyes. Then, with a quiet resolution that was wonderful, she +commanded the saleswoman to remove the coveted temptation, announcing +her determination to take the blue dress which she had previously +fancied.</p> + +<p>I was delighted at the character she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> evinced. I knew how bitterly +disappointed she was, and I was proud not only of her quiet +self-control, but of the loving thoughtfulness she had displayed in +remembering that her little store of gold must be divided with the +toiling mother, the old grandmother, and my own little child.</p> + +<p>"Do up both costumes," I said in undertone to the saleswoman, less +attentive now that she had discovered the extent of Mariposilla's +capital. Impertinently folding the discarded dress, she allowed +Mariposilla to struggle as best she could with her buttons.</p> + +<p>At my announcement she flew to assist, but I commanded tartly the +packing of our purchases.</p> + +<p>After we left the store I noticed several times during the day that the +child still remembered covetously the denied frock; but she behaved +sensibly, and after we had bought the shawl, and the slippers, and a +Chinese doll for Marjorie, and there was still money for a sailor hat +and a few trifles, she appeared satisfied. She enjoyed, with childish +appetite, our elaborate luncheon; while she evinced the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>warmest +interest in my selection of toys and books for Marjorie. When she +discovered that I had bought presents for her mother and the +grandmother, she seemed to have dismissed entirely the disappointment of +the morning.</p> + +<p>We left the city by a late afternoon train, and already twilight had +ceased to linger. As we stepped blindly into the early winter darkness +at the end of our short journey, the voice of Sidney Sanderson sounded +pleasant and assuring.</p> + +<p>"You see," he explained, as he unburdened our far-reaching arms, "I +fancied you would need assistance. Antonio gratefully resigned his +responsibilities, and I took the liberty of coming myself with a more +substantial vehicle."</p> + +<p>The escape from the uncertainties of the old buggy, to say nothing of +the eccentricities of the pony, filled me with gratitude for our +deliverer. After the tiresome day, it was truly delightful to find a +friend in the depths of the darkness. As yet I had not attained the +independence exhibited by many unprotected women whom I met, and +Sidney's unexpected courtesy so touched my heart that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> I meekly +determined to forget forever my suspicions of the evening before.</p> + +<p>I had never quite overcome my childish dread of the dark, and as we +stepped from the train to the wayside platform I shall never forget the +sickening wave of loneliness that deluged my courage. A longing for the +electric lights of the city, for the first time in months, fastened upon +me; while never before had a familiar voice sounded so welcome as did +Sidney's, coming from the uncanny denseness of the night. It was not +until we had reached the long dark tunnel of peppers that I regained the +composure which I felt continually from my first day with the Doña +Maria.</p> + +<p>Through the open door streamed a bright welcome, checking effectually my +transient discontent; for midway in the flood of light danced +Marjorie—a sprite in white, flushed and joyous, she watched for our +return.</p> + +<p>Within, the grape roots had been piled high. The supper table shone with +unusual luster. Old silver and rich red roses proclaimed the night a +gala one, and the kind Doña Maria, in her best<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> black silk, bade us the +old-time welcome of Christmas Eve.</p> + +<p>The grandmother, resplendent in great gold ear-rings, chattered +garrulously in Spanish, while Mrs. Sanderson smiled indulgently and +regally upon all.</p> + +<p>The lady was in demi-evening toilet, and the delicate tone of her +French-gray gown, embellished with lace and caught at the half low +throat by flashing jewels, was to Mariposilla a revelation. To the +simple child the handsome woman appeared a wonderful vision, from which +she could not withdraw her eyes. For the first time she beheld Mrs. +Sanderson in her most captivating rôle; the conventional habit of day, +exchanged for one of rare artistic beauty, had given to the lady a +sudden fascinating youth which was startling. In the less impertinent +light of evening, the encroachments of time were effaced. The +aristocratic features and dazzling teeth belied the years of the woman +whose supreme object had been their preservation. The beautiful hands, +ablaze with jewels, seemed to smite the humble room with light, when the +lady caressed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> with amused vanity, the bewildered child she had so +perfectly enthralled.</p> + +<p>"Fly, Butterfly," she coaxed, as Mariposilla lingered by her side; "Sid +is starving! and so are we all. Cast aside the old, dull frock and +dazzle us in the new one."</p> + +<p>I had always noticed that Mrs. Sanderson was exuberant in the evening. +To her theatrical nature there was something exhilarating in the flicker +of artificial lights. When high noon told her unpleasant truths, she +forgot them the same evening, amid shaded lamps and candles. An open +fire could warm her usually chilly sympathies, until she sometimes +forgot her selfishness in genuine kindness. At such times, occasionally, +she grew honest, and often liberal.</p> + +<p>She had declared that misfortunes and ugly surroundings would soon make +her a devil. It was only when deceived by luxury and flattery that she +was capable of good thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I am naturally depraved before I have had my bath and my early coffee," +she would say, jestingly, to the amazement of the literal, whom she +delighted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> to shock. "Sid, the scamp, knows better than to cross me +before luncheon. In the evening he is safe. When he sees that I am in +the ecstasies of dotage, a perfect old egotist, happy with illusions, he +imposes upon me shamefully."</p> + +<p>Strange, worldly woman that she was, it was impossible to condemn her +brilliancy.</p> + +<p>She had told us that her great grandmother was a Frenchwoman of rank, +and as I regarded her this Christmas Eve, I seemed to see the proud dame +of the fallen monarchy living again in the imperious form of her +descendant.</p> + +<p>I had not completed my hasty toilet when Mariposilla came flying to my +door, breathless. She held in her arms the dress of cream and gold.</p> + +<p>"See," she cried; "they have made a mistake! and I must again part with +the beautiful dress. Can I not wear it this once that my friends may see +it?"</p> + +<p>I had not the heart to rebuke her; she was so lovely in her ignorance. I +could only smile indulgently, as I bade her enjoy the frock, which was +to be her Christmas present.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>"Dear, kind Señora," she exclaimed, passionately kissing my hand; "I +will indeed be good! I will indeed learn fast."</p> + +<p>"Very well," I replied, "if you are good I shall always be glad that I +was able to please you. But come, dear child," I urged; "make haste, for +the Doña Maria is calling. She will be deeply annoyed if we allow her +supper to cool."</p> + +<p>It was astonishing how quickly Mariposilla complied with my command. Her +transformation appeared to occupy but a moment. And never was the +awakening of an actual butterfly more surprising or triumphant.</p> + +<p>Her joy in her enhanced beauty was rapturous and innocent. When we +entered the living-room she hugged herself with delightful vanity as she +approached the astonished Doña Maria.</p> + +<p>"Am I not grand? Am I not beautiful?" she demanded. "Is not my dress +more rich than the dresses in the green chest of my grandmother? Be +happy with me, dear mother. Kiss thy child, and give her at last the +little necklace of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> opals. See," she continued, coaxingly, peering into +a mirror, "see how sweetly the necklace will lie against my throat; just +as my beautiful Aunt Lola once wore it," she entreated in Spanish.</p> + +<p>"Hush, foolish child," the Doña Maria commanded sternly; for at the +first mention of the necklace the grandmother had shown ominous signs of +dissatisfaction. When Mariposilla persistently mentioned the name of the +dead Lola the old woman screamed angrily, growing each moment more +excited, until the patient Doña Maria coaxed her gently from the room.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," cried the penitent child, when the door closed upon the +now shrieking and unmanageable Spanish woman. "I am so sorry that I +compelled my grandmother to make a noise. She approves not of joy; and +my mother, too, is often sad when I am happy; for she then thinks only +of my dead father and the evil fortunes which have befallen us."</p> + +<p>For answer, Mrs. Sanderson drew the unhappy girl within the charmed +circle of her arms. With her soft, jeweled hands she clasped about her +throat a pretty string of gold beads. "Say no more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> about the opal +necklace," she said; "the little beads will do until you are older."</p> + +<p>When the Doña Maria returned, Mariposilla had recovered her spirits. She +was talking gaily with Sidney, unconscious of everything but the delight +of the moment. As her mother approached, she flew to her side, that she +might admire the necklace she had just received. With pretty entreaty +she begged the Doña Maria to thank once more the dear friends who had +given her so much joy.</p> + +<p>For a moment the mother seemed to forget everything but the touching +happiness of her child. A tender light shone in the great, dark eyes +when she thanked us in a little speech displaying the fervent +characteristics of her simple nature.</p> + +<p>The supper was now steaming upon the table. A great platter of chicken +tamales had been prepared, as none but the Doña Maria knew how to +prepare them. The fragrant coffee, the dainty biscuit and the rich +preserves and cream, tempted us delightfully with the unconventional +perfection of Spanish hospitality.</p> + +<p>The only restraint upon our complete enjoyment was the consciousness of +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> protesting grandmother. Mrs. Sanderson, I perceived, was intensely +annoyed.</p> + +<p>Her hatred of the imbecile tyranny of age was plain when the Doña Maria +excused herself, finding it impossible to remain longer away from her +unreasonable charge, now protesting in methodical shrieks.</p> + +<p>"Be happy, dear friends," she said. "Mind not the infirmities of my +mother. I will soon soothe her—in time—to sleep; when she will forget +for a season the sorrows of her life. Make free with all that is ours, +and enjoy, if possible, the supper which I have prepared. My daughter +will serve, and may the night be happy!"</p> + +<p>Dear, brave Doña Maria! how could we reverence her enough? How forget in +mirth the pathos of her noble unselfishness?</p> + +<p>Long after the Sandersons had gone, long after Mariposilla had ceased to +rejoice over her splendid fortunes, forgetting in the natural slumbers +of youth the caressing pressure of the gold beads, or the sweet secret +of the little bracelet hugging her arm, that she must not show, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +could kiss in solitude, long after the gorgeous air castles, built by +the ignorant, innocent young architect, had crumbled for the night, and +I had ceased to listen to the faint noises from the adjoining room, did +the patient Doña Maria keep her vigil.</p> + +<p>As I dropped to sleep I heard her tender voice soothing like an infant +the aged mother, who at last sank away into a long, irresistible +slumber.</p> + +<p>When the clear, yellow dawn of Christmas morn awakened the cocks of the +corral, I heard the Doña Maria knocking at her daughter's door. Opening +my own I inquired if her mother still slept, begging that I might +relieve for a time her patient watch.</p> + +<p>"The Señora is kind," she said, "but my mother will now sleep for many +hours. The Señora need not fear; she will scream no more. She has taken +the sleeping potion, and now I am free to go with my child to the early +celebration."</p> + +<p>Mariposilla was now awake. Her hair had fallen over her shoulders and +the little necklace still encircled her throat. About her eyes lingered +the rosy flush of her unbroken sleep. She sat up as we entered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> pushing +quickly beneath her nightgown sleeve a tiny rim of gold.</p> + +<p>"Come, my child," said the Doña Maria, "make haste and prepare for the +early celebration. Our sufferer sleeps at last, and we may now go +together to the church and thank once more the sweet Mother for the +birth of the Holy Child."</p> + +<p>I went back to my room as Mariposilla began to dress. A few moments +later I heard the outer door close gently, and knew that the Doña Maria +and her child had gone.</p> + +<p>A strange fear fastened upon me, driving me irresistibly to the +adjoining door. I opened it. The darkened room was a fascinating terror. +I entered, and approached the bed of the sleeping Spanish woman. Her +stillness was terrible. The old horror seized me. I felt once more the +power of my old enemy. Death seemed to be facing me again. The same +cruel, dreadful certainty that I knew so well! I staggered forward to +flee. I must have fainted, for when I revived I was lying upon the floor +in front of the little wooden Virgin. The blessed sunlight was peeping +from the sides of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> window curtains, while above the head of the +image there hung a golden beam.</p> + +<p>I arose and stood calmly by the bed of the Spanish woman.</p> + +<p>The linen was spotless; the pillow cases and night-dress of the sleeper +elaborate with the drawn needlework of the Doña Maria. The snowy +whiteness of the counterpane contrasted strangely with the bronzed, +weather-beaten features and large, gnarled hands of the woman beneath, +so like a mummy that her breathing alone seemed human.</p> + +<p>Yet regular and warm as an infant's, her breath issued through her +half-open mouth. No muscle stirred. No sound broke the silence; until, +in the distance, floating above the orange groves, and on to the +Christmas day, rang the bells of old San Gabriel.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XII.</span></h2> + +<p>A soothing peace possessed me, as I listened to the ringing of the old +bells. I left quietly the bedside of the aged sleeper to kneel a moment +later by that of my child. The healthy loveliness which I beheld +completed my restoration. As I kissed the dainty, dimpled hands, and +laid my cheek against the yellow curls, her warm, sweet breath infused +my flagging circulation with the energy of love.</p> + +<p>I no longer forgot my plans for the morning. Hastily dressing, I +gathered as quickly as possible the various mysterious parcels secreted +about my room, glancing occasionally at Marjorie to be sure that no +possum slumbers hid beneath deceitful lashes. Satisfied that my schemes +were unsuspected, I fled eagerly, with ladened arms, from the silent +house out into the crisp, inspiring air of the sacred morning.</p> + +<p>The sun was now well up. As it rose, it touched with magical radiance +the most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> distant reaches of the Christmas landscape.</p> + +<p>Reverently I lingered, enthralled with the breath of Judea. Standing +beneath the old palms I listened to an anthem, led by a lark and +sustained by the lowing cattle, who seemed to tell, as at first, the +birth of the long-expected Saviour; while the rosebuds reflected from +jeweled hearts his pure parables.</p> + +<p>About me the purple mountains gleamed with the fresh, cool touch of the +night. Between twin spurs, resting against the bosom of the sky, snow +had gathered, until in the distant outline a pure, white lamb appeared, +slain for the holy festival.</p> + +<p>Old Baldy, the high priest of the morning, until now had withheld the +fullness of his majesty. Suddenly the sun with golden shafts rent far +asunder the misty veil that had enveloped his hoary summit. Transfigured +with supernatural glory, the morning seemed to pause for one still +moment, as if to receive his benediction.</p> + +<p>"I, too, have been to the early celebration," I said to my heart, as I +turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> reluctantly to the pressing demands of the now inaugurated day.</p> + +<p>Hastily I hid the packages in various secret nooks, while I decorated a +great white rose tree with cornucopias and knicknacks.</p> + +<p>Hardly had the last bauble been hung upon the magnificent Christmas tree +when I heard the plaintive voice of my child.</p> + +<p>I hurried to the house to find the little girl upon the bed, struggling +bravely with her shoes and stockings.</p> + +<p>"Did the fairies come?" she demanded, springing into my arms for her +Christmas kiss.</p> + +<p>For my answer I carried her to the window, through which she beheld the +white rose tree.</p> + +<p>"See," I said, "how good are the good little fairies to good little +girls."</p> + +<p>"May I go as soon as I am dressed and pick the tree?" the child +besought, her eyes beaming with expectation.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "you may go, but I think the fairies would rather you +would wait until our kind Doña Maria and Mariposilla return from church. +The Doña Maria must be very weary; she has not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> slept all night for +watching at the bedside of the grandmother. I think I know a little girl +who might help to get breakfast, so that when the Doña Maria returns she +can refresh herself at once with some hot coffee. I wonder if the little +girl's name is Marjorie? Or perhaps I am mistaken; I may have forgotten +her name."</p> + +<p>Marjorie took one long, regretful look at the rose-tree; then from her +baby heart there escaped a tragic little sigh that was half a sob. +"Please, dear mamma," she said, bravely, "I will mind the fairies."</p> + +<p>Fortunately for both mother and child, their resolution was not long +tested.</p> + +<p>It took but a few moments to prepare the toast and coffee, for Antonio +had unexpectedly lighted the fire and filled the water kettle. Before +our simple meal was quite ready the Doña Maria and Mariposilla had +arrived.</p> + +<p>It was amusing to witness the Doña Maria's mortification when she +perceived that I had cooked the breakfast; her distress was genuine when +she declared that the Señora would certainly be ill. "I am ashamed that +I should have remained so long," she apologized. "The Señora should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> not +have arisen until our return. It is ill fortune that she has not +permitted me to prepare her a dainty holiday breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Dear Doña Maria," I entreated, "why will you deplore what is already +accomplished? I have told you often that a simple breakfast is all that +I require, and our frolic has given me a fine appetite. See," I urged, +"is my toast not a delicious brown? Make haste and enjoy the coffee, or +I shall be greatly disappointed."</p> + +<p>"The Señora is most kind," the Doña Maria replied, seating herself +submissively. With her dark hand she brushed away a tear. "We are ever +happy, my daughter and I, that we have known one so good and gentle," +she added, feelingly.</p> + +<p>Marjorie and Mariposilla had by this time declared it impossible to +resist longer the fascinations of the rose-tree, tantalizingly visible +through the open door. Gaining permission, they scampered away, followed +by the hounds. The dogs appeared to understand the occasion. They ran +forward, doubling over with excitement, as though expecting to find a +jack-rabbit suspended from a bough of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> Christmas tree. The picture +was a pretty one, and none of us enjoyed it more than the Doña Maria, +who soon left the table and joined the children in their merry hunt for +the hidden parcels.</p> + +<p>Marjorie led her about at will, compelling the sedate woman to stoop and +caper as she had not done for years. When the gifts had all been +discovered, we arranged them in rows upon the Bermuda grass, preparatory +to the untying of strings and ribbons.</p> + +<p>Marjorie's row was long and diversified, while Mariposilla declared that +she had never before received so many gifts at one time.</p> + +<p>"It is because we are so good," Marjorie explained; "for you know that +fairies never bring presents to naughty children, only just stones and +mud."</p> + +<p>We all laughed as we continued our occupation each untying in turn a +parcel marked with the name of the recipient and the good fairy who had +been responsible for its safe delivery from the foot of Old Baldy.</p> + +<p>With each discovery the air was flooded with shrieks of approval. +Marjorie <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>rejoiced over every little treasure, while Mariposilla +embraced us excitedly at each happy surprise.</p> + +<p>Even the Doña Maria grew artlessly gay, appearing to forget that the +grandmother might soon awaken, to be cared for like an infant, and that +Christmas was now but a colorless counterfeit of years past.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the sympathetic mother, when Mariposilla held up for +admiration a little silver bracelet; "it is almost like the happiness of +the old days. Not the same; for the Spanish gave not gifts, but the good +cheer is most sweet. I grieve," she continued, "that the Señora and my +child should not have known those once glad days—now gone forever. +Then, all went about from rancho to rancho, free from sorrow; always +joyful in abundance. But the holiday is no more what it once was—so +full of mirth and sweet enjoyment for both old and young; yet ever +sacred, for none dared forget to go to the old church when the bells +rang lovingly the birth of the Holy Child.</p> + +<p>"Dear Señora," she continued, her dark eyes intensifying with awakening +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>memories; "could you have seen the beauty of the old Spanish life, +then, with thy gentle heart, tears would now fall for those of us who +are left."</p> + +<p>With increasing melancholy she explained that her child refused to +grieve for the departed glory of her family.</p> + +<p>"I am often miserable when I remember how different I once felt, so full +of joy and pride when I dreamed that my children would thank always the +sweet Mother for the nobility of their father's name. Yet I blame not +Mariposilla; for she saw not my husband, Don Arturo. Her life was too +late to know of his goodness and beauty. I could forgive always her +thoughtless indifference, if only sometimes she would weep when I show +her the riding jacket embroidered with gold, and the botas of exceeding +richness, once worn by her dear father. But she is cold, and understands +not what she has lost. She would even profane the precious shawls of her +grandmother, urging that some be sold to envious Americans for gold!"</p> + +<p>Poor Doña Maria! I feared that her transient happiness had fled. But she +soon controlled the dash of bitterness that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> tinctured for a moment her +reminiscences, and continued to describe the wonderful days, once +enjoyed by her now scattered and Americanized people.</p> + +<p>"Think not, dear Señora, that I am ungrateful," she begged, sweetly. "It +is perhaps best that my child should grow like the Americans. Her older +kinsmen will soon be gone; the younger ones, like herself, care not to +continue in the old way, seeking to marry with strangers, forgetting +often even the religion of their childhood."</p> + +<p>I was loath to interrupt the gentle complaints of the Doña Maria; for +beneath the shadow of the venerable palms her sweet, low, sympathetic +voice enthralled me with realistic glimpses of her picturesque past.</p> + +<p>Tears dropped upon the brown cheeks when she told how she had knelt for +the communion that same morning, alone with her child, surrounded no +longer by dear, familiar faces.</p> + +<p>"How different it once was!" she explained eagerly. "How sad, yet good, +to remember how once the altar rail was thronged with near relatives and +loving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> friends. To think how joyful were our hearts when we had +received and could go absolved from the cold church into the warm +sunshine, there to speak pleasant kind words and wish to each other a +merry day. How beautiful to listen to the gay greetings of the young, to +grasp the hands of dear ones, and hear, upon all sides, 'Feliz noche +buena!'"</p> + +<p>"Come," she said, rising; "my mother still sleeps, and I will show you +the silken shawls, the lace mantillas, and the embroidered garments of +our family."</p> + +<p>Gladly I followed her to the little chamber, where she opened reverently +a huge chest, from which she drew, one by one, the beautiful relics of +her prosperity.</p> + +<p>With loving care she took from scented wrappings gorgeous shawls of +crêpe, blooming on both sides with rich, yet delicately wrought flowers, +mantillas of wonderful lace, and dainty bits of Spanish finery, that +brought to my lips repeated exclamations of wonder and delight.</p> + +<p>"I am happy to have shown the Señora my treasures," she said, flushing +with pleasure, as she drew, from a silken bag embroidered with silver, a +scarf which she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> had reserved until the last, as the most precious and +beautiful heirloom in her possession.</p> + +<p>Draping it pathetically about her somber figure, she urged me to admire +the delicate green which displayed so marvellously the butterflies +embroidered in pink and gold, studded with real jewels.</p> + +<p>"See!" she cried, caressing tenderly the clinging fabric; "is it not +wonderful! So bright and sparkling after all the sad years!"</p> + +<p>"The Señora will understand how dear is the scarf of the butterflies, +when I relate to her its story, explaining how it came from Spain, the +gift of my husband's grandmother; how I wore it to church upon our +wedding day to shield from the sun the neck and arms that were once my +foolish pride; how, when we were returning from our marriage, mounted +upon horses decked with roses and splendid with silver and jewels, my +husband, desirous that all should see the magnificence of my satin gown, +caught away playfully the scarf, throwing it about his own shoulders, +while he declared that all must behold the beauty of his bride. After<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> a +time, when our child was born, my husband brought again the scarf of the +butterflies, commanding my mother to wrap it about our boy, that he +might carry him upon the veranda to be admired by our assembled +household.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Señora, was not my husband proud the day he went with a company to +the church for the christening of our child? Many relatives had arrived +from Los Angeles and from Ventura, so that our house was overflowing +with cheer. The kitchen and the court were gay with preparations from +morning until evening. Although I could not go myself to the church, my +husband told me joyfully how the dear old Father who had married us the +year before took in his arms our boy, blessing him with double certainty +when he kissed his little cheek.</p> + +<p>"But too beautiful to live was our baby, and in one short year we gave +him tearfully to the sweet Mother of Heaven, who heard not our prayers +when our little one lay ill. Two more sons, grown almost to manhood, we +lost; and then my brave husband, who had ever grieved sorely for his +boys, went too.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>"I alone remained with my mother and my unborn child, who came not +until her father had been five months dead.</p> + +<p>"See," she said, wiping away the tears that suffused her great, sad +eyes; "see, dear Señora, the little petticoats of my dead babies, all +now yellow with age.</p> + +<p>"Who will care, when I am gone, for the worthless garments of my little +ones? Surely not Mariposilla, for she understands not why I should still +grieve, after the long years that have passed.</p> + +<p>"She loves, however, the scarf of the butterflies, and begs often to +possess it. When I am taken she may do as she desires with it, for it +will then be her own, to treasure or to resign unto strangers.</p> + +<p>"Yet I pray that she may always hold sacred the gift of her father's +grandmother; for she, too, was carried to her christening wrapped in the +beautiful shawl.</p> + +<p>"Well do I remember how sore was my heart the day that my mother went +alone to the church with my fatherless child. So ill was I, that I cared +not even to name my little daughter, entreating my mother to consult +with the priest, who might choose for us.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>"But my good mother was wiser than I, and when she had thought much she +remembered the butterflies upon the beautiful scarf, and how my husband, +Don Arturo, had delighted to behold them glistening in the sunlight when +I first wore the shawl to my bridal; how, afterwards, he insisted that +his children should first be shown to his household wrapped in the +splendid gift of his grandmother. Wisely she remembered these things, +and when, weeks after, I asked her the name of my child, I wept for joy +when she said, 'She is Mariposilla.'"</p> + +<p>Tenderly the dark hand folded and replaced in its embroidered bag the +precious scarf of the butterflies. Tearfully she laid it away by the +side of the sparkling riding-jacket and gorgeous botas of the dead +Arturo, while she reverently closed the old chest, relegating to its +scented depths the fading remnants of her former grandeur, together with +the sad, sweet memories of her poetic life.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII.</span></h2> + +<p>It had been arranged that we should go to San Gabriel late in the +afternoon of Christmas Day.</p> + +<p>As the time approached for our departure, I grew more reluctant to leave +the ranch. I was still loath to submit to the restraints of a hotel. Had +I dared, I would have abandoned the visit. It irritated me to submit +heroically to exile from Paradise, but there now seemed no alternative.</p> + +<p>The little valise had been packed for hours; the precious evening frock +safely folded away in its scented wrappings, together with little bits +of finery to be worn at the hotel. Mariposilla, radiant and expectant, +counted the moments which delayed our departure.</p> + +<p>Even the grandmother was now comfortably restored, having awakened from +her long sleep fresh and docile.</p> + +<p>No vestige of excuse remained to justify a change in our plans. An<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +ordained agreement of trifles appeared conspiring with Fate.</p> + +<p>As we bade farewell to the Doña Maria, I found it impossible to resist +the unhappy presentiments which thronged our departure.</p> + +<p>When we drove away with Sidney and passed between the great century +plants, a sudden fear seized my vacillating will. I knew in an instant +that I dreaded the possible consequences of what I had undertaken.</p> + +<p>In the front seat of the trap, with Sidney, sat Mariposilla, transformed +by excessive happiness and conventional garb into another creature. +Never again would she be the child she had been even that same morning, +when she had romped upon the Bermuda grass with Marjorie, flushed with +pleasure over her Christmas trifles. Now another flush was upon her +cheeks, another light shone in her eyes; for, even as I looked, +Mariposilla had bidden farewell forever to the restraints of her simple, +beautiful childhood.</p> + +<p>Had I created a scene by turning back in our journey into the world, it +is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> hardly possible that I could have obviated the difficulties of +Mariposilla's emancipation from the life she had determined to escape.</p> + +<p>As I continued to face the responsibilities of her case I grew more +tranquil. I reasoned that it was perhaps best not to resist the +unmistakable leadings of Fate, which seemed to point to a destiny for +the girl different from the one desired by the Doña Maria. Her +remarkable beauty, the truly good blood which ran in her veins, to say +nothing of her laudable ambition and determination not to accept a +husband dictated by the priest or her relatives, justified me in the +belief that she had outgrown the old life, which was now each day +growing more and more intolerable.</p> + +<p>With care and advantages, it seemed not only credible, but certain, that +Mariposilla might eventually satisfy her ambition.</p> + +<p>The longer I thought upon the subject, the more I felt it to be my duty +to watch jealously the marvelous and unavoidable development of this +wonderful girl.</p> + +<p>In a word, I compromised with my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>contending emotions, instituting +myself the guardian of her glorious beauty. Our arrival at the hotel was +concurrent with the usual lively glimpses of festivity always prevalent +at a pleasure resort upon the approach of evening. A gush of music, the +ripple of laughter, the tripping of feet, and the spontaneous rush of +cherubs in white frocks to investigate our arrival constituted for +Mariposilla and Marjorie a prime reception.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson awaited us upon the landing of the broad staircase, then +led us cordially to her own apartments. When she threw open the door to +her sitting-room, Mariposilla exclaimed with pleasure as the lady drew +her affectionately to the open fire.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, little one," she said. "I will draw some tea, while Sid +attends to the luggage. My pretty butterfly must be warmed after her +drive; for of course she is to outshine all beauties at the ball +to-night."</p> + +<p>As Mrs. Sanderson spoke, she went to the tea-table, where the kettle was +already singing.</p> + +<p>I could see, as Mariposilla received her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> tea from the hand of our +hostess, that the shell-like cup and saucer were a source of +apprehension. The child dreaded a catastrophe more than she would have +dreaded, a month previous, a dire calamity in her family.</p> + +<p>Covertly she watched me as I deposited upon the side of my saucer the +biscuit that must not interfere with the manipulation of my spoon.</p> + +<p>But, although she endeavored to follow my exact policy, her first +attempt at tea drinking was destined to be unfortunate.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla had not yet achieved the confidence necessary for the poise +and counterpoise of the treacherous spoon. The girl had not yet attained +the dallying point. She could not yet sip tea one moment with assurance, +the next, disregard the responsibilities of Dresden or Coalport china +while she chatted unconsciously with her neighbor.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding her most earnest efforts to succeed in the undertaking, +the spoon flew at an aggravating tangent across the room. In a frantic +lurch to capture it she upset her cup, spilling into her lap the +steaming tea.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p><p>In a moment Mrs. Sanderson was by her side.</p> + +<p>"Dear child," she said, sympathetically, relieving the girl at once from +her costly incumbrances. "I alone am to blame for offering you that +stupid cup. Sid declares each time it is used that it shall be the last.</p> + +<p>"You see," she added charmingly, "those miserable little feet, that look +so secure when the cup is standing upon the saucer, have a malicious way +of running away. They are just like the profligate dish that eloped with +the spoon, when the cow jumped over the moon."</p> + +<p>In a moment, Mariposilla had forgotten her embarrassment.</p> + +<p>The lady took her at once to her bedroom, where she sponged away the +stains, petting and reassuring the child until she glowed with +happiness.</p> + +<p>Soon Sidney came to say that our rooms were ready, urging us, as we +withdrew, not to be late for dinner.</p> + +<p>When we had unpacked our apparel, Mariposilla became at once absorbed in +the delights of her toilet, speculating innocently, while she dressed, +in regard to the mysteries of the cotillion, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> she was to witness +for the first time after dinner.</p> + +<p>The cream and gold frock was joyfully assumed, and if possible the +girl's pleasure was keener than upon the previous evening.</p> + +<p>With true womanly instinct she established the harmonious intimacy +between herself and her finery which at first had been lacking. She now +wore her gown with composure. None would have suspected that she had not +always been well dressed.</p> + +<p>She had pushed above the elbow the wide, puffy sleeves, displaying the +lower half of her rounded arms; while the smile that parted her lips +told plainly of satisfaction, when she regarded the effect.</p> + +<p>Now that her mother was absent she wore fearlessly the shining bracelet. +About her throat she fastened with delighted vanity the little necklace, +declaring, with one more loving glance into the mirror, that she was +ready.</p> + +<p>Marjorie, having finished her tea, had obediently retired, satisfied to +watch for a few moments from her bed our elaborate preparations. She was +deeply moved by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> our grand toilets, pronouncing us "the beautifulest +peoples in the house." I was the loveliest of mammas, in my long +neglected "dwaggin dress"; while upon Mariposilla she bestowed a +profusion of compliments, as pretty as they were genuine.</p> + +<p>When we had kissed the little girl good night, we started at once to +rejoin our friends. Half way down the hall we met Mrs. Sanderson and her +son coming to us.</p> + +<p>The lady wore a rich lavender evening gown, while Sidney for the first +time appeared before Mariposilla in the immaculate perfection of full +dress.</p> + +<p>I saw in a moment that the Spanish child was in an ecstasy of adoration. +Ever after, it would be useless for the Doña Maria to endeavor to +interest her in the magnificence of her father's once splendid apparel.</p> + +<p>Even upon the threshold of this new experience she was captivated beyond +release. Never again would she submit to her old life.</p> + +<p>The next moment was felicitous, when Mrs. Sanderson took caressingly her +hand. Drawing it within her own she commanded her son to escort us to +dinner.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV.</span></h2> + +<p>As we disposed ourselves about the friendly table in the cheerful dining +room, I could see that Mariposilla's wildest desires were at last +realized.</p> + +<p>She was trembling slightly, I fancied, as I glanced at her from my +opposite position, but in a moment she had controlled herself, and if +the ordeal of dinner had at first appeared formidable, she soon forgot +her fears in rapturous happiness.</p> + +<p>As upon the occasion of the Waltons' luncheon, she watched intelligently +my every move, making no mistakes, as she received prettily the +flattering attentions of those about her.</p> + +<p>As dinner proceeded, the girl's excitement was manifest only in her +transcendent coloring. She was dropping naturally, as well as +gracefully, into the most difficult requirements of her social +novitiate. As I watched her anxiously, I grew tranquil with the +assurance that the first step in her education had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>successfully +taken, exulting, as I reflected upon the complications of modern dining.</p> + +<p>One of my pet theories had led me to believe that I could discern +correctly the character or native refinement of anyone, provided I could +observe, unsuspected, his gastronomical endeavors. I had often +discovered inherent resemblances to the brute, or lingering traces of +the savage, as I watched covertly the table attainments of a person who, +under other ordinary conditions, appeared eminently correct. I felt +willing to stake extensive odds that Mariposilla's social success would +progress satisfactorily in intelligent ratio to her first unique +acquirement.</p> + +<p>Our coffee was served in Mrs. Sanderson's sitting-room, where we were +joined by a bevy of young people, to whom we were introduced in +anticipation of the week's festivities.</p> + +<p>Sidney and a young Englishman prepared to smoke, while the girls +gathered about Mrs. Sanderson, like moths around a candle.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard of the coincidence?" demanded Mrs. Wilbur, a dashing +blonde, who thus far in the season had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>monopolized the attentions of +the social leader's son. "Imagine, if you please, a shortage of young +women for our cotillion."</p> + +<p>"Just think of an extra man in San Gabriel!" shouted the girls in +chorus; while Mrs. Wilbur appealed confidentially to Mrs. Sanderson to +settle the impending difficulty.</p> + +<p>"We were expecting six couples from Pasadena, and now, at the last +moment, Ethel Walton sends word that the giddy widow who was to have +chaperoned her party is ill, obliging them to bring a maiden lady who +doesn't dance," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Delightful!" exclaimed the girls. "How jolly to boast a rover, and dear +Mr. Eastman at that."</p> + +<p>"Won't he be popular?" Mrs. Wilbur added, aside to Mrs. Sanderson, who +was at that moment glancing interrogatively at Sidney.</p> + +<p>The young man divined his mother's signal, for he came to her side with +unusual alacrity.</p> + +<p>"The very thing," the lady replied to his earnest undertone. "The +arrangement will be quite proper, and I am sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> that Mrs. Wilbur will +relinquish you for Mr. Eastman. Won't you, my dear?" the lady continued, +turning suddenly to Mrs. Wilbur, who was now beginning to suspect that +Sidney was quite satisfied to obey the suggestion of his mother.</p> + +<p>"It will be so interesting to watch Mariposilla dance in the cotillion," +Mrs. Sanderson pursued, bravely. "Dear Mrs. Wilbur will excuse you, for +my sake, I am sure, Sid," she added, sweetly, as she turned from that +somewhat ruffled young woman to the Spanish child, who was prettily +pleading her ignorance of cotillions.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear," she said, coaxingly, to the timid girl, "you dance +divinely, and Sid will take you through the figures beautifully."</p> + +<p>I saw that Mrs. Wilbur was chagrined and angry, for a hot flush had dyed +her cheeks, when she replied that of course Mr. Sanderson could do as he +chose. As far as she was concerned she would be greatly pleased to dance +with Mr. Eastman, having formerly refused him her partnership on account +of an early engagement with Mr. Sanderson.</p> + +<p>"My mother appears to have solved our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> difficulties. Mr. Eastman +certainly surpasses me as a partner, and as there is no robbery in a +beneficial exchange, with Mrs. Wilbur's permission, I will dance with +Miss Del Valle," the young man responded, indifferently.</p> + +<p>A suppressed titter from one of the girls had the unfortunate tendency +to increase Mrs. Wilbur's pique.</p> + +<p>She answered curtly that certainly Mrs. Sanderson had the first claim +upon her son. "Mr. Eastman is a delightful partner, and I am +exceptionally favored in the cut," she added, with spirit.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mrs. Wilbur," exclaimed a girl with baby-blue eyes and a +sympathetic costume, embellished by infant devices; "how dare you +perpetrate a pun? You are surely not ignorant of the punishment which +fits such a crime?"</p> + +<p>"While you, my dear, have yet to learn of penalties arranged for young +women who can not distinguish between a pun and a simile," Mrs. Wilbur +replied.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson, perceiving that the air was becoming tinctured with +personalities, declared that there were also penalties for being +disagreeable.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>"Come," she said, "let us resist the desire to quarrel. I am sure that +Mrs. Wilbur and Sidney are both satisfied, they have simply been +misunderstood; and under the circumstances it becomes a polite duty to +change the subject."</p> + +<p>As the lady finished her tactful and decisive rejoinder, she took from +the table a package which had just arrived by express from New York.</p> + +<p>"A box of chocolate creams for the one who guesses my Christmas gift," +she said, graciously, holding above the throng a long, narrow package, +that was certainly not suggestive of any particular thing.</p> + +<p>"Each person shall have three guesses, which Mrs. Wilbur will kindly +record."</p> + +<p>"Go, Sid, and fetch some paper," his mother commanded; turning sweetly +to Mrs. Wilbur, who was evidently weighing the consequences of refusing +to act as secretary.</p> + +<p>However, when Mr. Sanderson brought the writing pad and pencil she +accepted them with mollified mien.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brooke shall guess first," Mrs. Sanderson said, addressing the +diminutive Englishman, who was smoking before the fire.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p>"What do you say my package contains, Mr. Brooke?" the lady urged; when +the young man persisted in a grinning silence.</p> + +<p>"Weally, my deah lady, I am deucid poor at a fancy;" he at length +divulged.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," cried the aggressive baby girl; "say anything! Time is +precious."</p> + +<p>"As you insist," the man replied, "I fancy the package contains Mr. +Sanderson's sweetheart."</p> + +<p>"That is but one guess," objected Mrs. Wilbur, "there are two more +possibilities in store for you."</p> + +<p>"Three sweethearts, as you bother so," the Englishman replied, greatly +elated at his wit.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mrs. Sanderson. "Three sweethearts are surely not an +impossibility to a young man; are they, Sid?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," her son replied, as he lit, with adorable indifference, +a fresh cigar.</p> + +<p>"Now, my little Butterfly shall guess," Mrs. Sanderson declared, turning +to Mariposilla, who was the unconscious center of the admiring throng. +All listened eagerly to hear what the beautiful child would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> say; +suffused as she was with charming embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I am sure it is a gift of devotion and great affection," she answered +modestly, gazing with touching earnestness into the face of her adored +friend.</p> + +<p>"How extremely pretty!" approved Mrs. Sanderson.</p> + +<p>"Thus far the contents of the package is enchantingly abstract; can not +some one, who is matter-of-fact, indulge in a guess which is tangible?"</p> + +<p>In accordance with the request, there followed in quick succession a +volley of reckless ventures, each outdoing the other in substantial +reality.</p> + +<p>When the guessing ceased, Mrs. Wilbur remarked the weight of the +package, and announced that she believed the box contained shot. +"Nothing but lead could weigh so heavily, but of course, as secretary, I +am not guessing," she remarked, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Surely, you must guess!" Mrs. Sanderson urged, sweetly; but as Mrs. +Wilbur insisted that she preferred to keep out of the game, the lady +said no more, but proceeded to undo the mysterious parcel.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>A shout of admiration burst from the expectant company when she exposed +for view an elegant silver picture shrine, containing three superb +postures of a beautiful girl.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, I am right!" lisped the Rivulet, gleefully. "Did I not say +three sweethearts?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly Mr. Brooke has won," several cried at once.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so sure," retorted Mrs. Wilbur, in an undertone. "Did I not +say the box contained shot? If you doubt the fact, look at the Spanish +girl," she added, censoriously, to Sidney, who appeared not to hear.</p> + +<p>It was true that Mariposilla had grown strangely pale. She seemed like +one smitten by a remorseless blast. Instinctively she vanished from Mrs. +Sanderson's side, while her pitiful eyes implored me to take her away.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, at this particular time the tallyho arrived from Pasadena, +and to my infinite joy the situation was relieved. Mariposilla, +forgotten in the excitement, soon regained her composure, and later, +when we entered the ballroom, her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> color was restored and her distress +obliterated.</p> + +<p>I was glad that Mrs. Wilbur and I had alone witnessed the child's +jealousy. The rest of the company had been too busy admiring the +pictures to notice Mariposilla's pale countenance; while Mrs. Wilbur's +sarcasms had been uttered low, apart from the throng, as she sat by the +table on which she had been writing.</p> + +<p>I felt that the poor child's secret was safe for this evening, at least; +for I believed Mrs. Wilbur too wily to acknowledge her rival at present. +The woman of the world still hoped to distance the Spanish child.</p> + +<p>I could see that she was determined to drive her to a disadvantage if +possible.</p> + +<p>The cotillion was not to be enjoyed until a programme of dances had been +offered to all the guests of the hotel, some of whom had not been +favored with invitations for the cotillion.</p> + +<p>This arrangement proved fortunate for Mariposilla. She forgot her first +slight embarrassment entirely, as she glided happily among the less +exclusive throng, who good-naturedly jostled her as she passed in the +dance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>Sidney had assumed entire charge of her. He had arranged her programme +with great consideration, interspersing his own name freely between the +names of the most desirable men in the room; while he reserved for +himself the privilege of escorting her to the refreshment room, +preparatory to the cotillion.</p> + +<p>The evening from its beginning appeared auspicious for Mariposilla. +Between dances the child flitted to my side like a happy bird.</p> + +<p>"It is most grand, Señora!" she whispered, as Sidney drew her away for a +waltz.</p> + +<p>During refreshments, I noticed that Mrs. Wilbur was both fascinated and +annoyed at the sensation the girl was producing. Where would the matter +end? I asked myself.</p> + +<p>Even in the midst of Mariposilla's apparent success, I felt my heart +sinking with apprehension. "Why," I questioned, "Why did I let her +come?"</p> + +<p>The dancers were rapidly leaving the supper room, and when I looked for +Mariposilla, she, too, had disappeared. Thinking that she had gone below +into the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>ball-room, I followed hastily; but she was not there. Excusing +myself to Mrs. Sanderson, upon the plea that I must peep at Marjorie, I +ran hastily above, hoping to find my charge in one of the reception +rooms. Faithfully I searched the parlors and corridors, and later the +verandas, in vain, for a trace of the truants, so successfully escaping +me.</p> + +<p>There was yet Mrs. Sanderson's sitting-room. I must pass it on the way +to Marjorie.</p> + +<p>I hastily ascended the stairs, contemplating, as I flew along the hall, +my chances of interrupting a tête-a-tête.</p> + +<p>I felt indignant that Sidney Sanderson should abuse so soon my +confidence.</p> + +<p>I realized that Mariposilla already had been missed by her rival, and +the thought that the inexperienced child would doubtless be criticised, +and perhaps maligned, was decidedly irritating.</p> + +<p>Slackening my pace as I approached the vicinity of Mrs. Sanderson's +parlor, I perceived the door ajar. A second more and I comprehended the +absurdity of my vigilant endeavors. My conscientious plans and +sentimental reservations, thus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> far, were not proving superior to the +wiles of Cupid.</p> + +<p>I winced cruelly when I remembered the confident schemes for +Mariposilla's gradual translation into the bosom of the conventional +world.</p> + +<p>In the center of the room, her profile outlined by acute emotion, stood +the Spanish girl. Bending beside her, Sidney was evincing an ardency +entirely paradoxical, when I considered his indifferent temperament.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla held in her hands, which trembled, the silver shrine, +containing the pictures of the beautiful girl.</p> + +<p>"You love her not?" she repeated in an ecstasy of doubt; her voice +gradually rising in joy at the sweet denial she had forced from the lips +of her lover.</p> + +<p>Her head was still in profile, but the long lashes, that had lifted to +disclose her rapture, now dropped like a sable fringe upon her precious +secret, while she listened in silent contentment to the deep undertone +assurances of the man by her side.</p> + +<p>I could endure the restraint no longer. Tapping deceitfully upon the +door, I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>began at once an animated search for my fan, inwardly disgusted +with my cowardice, furious over my imbecile failure as a chaperone.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XV.</span></h2> + +<p>Mariposilla was the belle of the cotillion. Seated between Sidney and +Ethel Walton, she knew no embarrassment. When dancing, she was +absolutely free from self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>I assisted Mrs. Sanderson at the favor tables, where I had every +opportunity of observing the girl's behavior.</p> + +<p>She was constantly called out, and to my delight accepted her popularity +with gracious modesty.</p> + +<p>Often, when she came for a favor, Mrs. Sanderson delayed her to whisper +a compliment, or else to lavish upon her a marked caress.</p> + +<p>From first to last, the happy child was noticeably bedecked with +trophies of success. In her hair a number of gauzy butterflies of +different hues fluttered as she danced, encouraging the fancy that she +was truly related to the gorgeous little creatures after which she had +been named.</p> + +<p>By the side of the Spanish child the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> other girls appeared artificial. +Their respective claims to beauty seemed easily determined, the limit of +their fascinations soon estimated.</p> + +<p>"I never felt so blasé in my life before," Ethel Walton whispered, as I +handed her a favor. Later, when there was an intermission in the +cotillion, she crossed the room and sat by my side.</p> + +<p>"As I told you once, I feel dreadfully blasé to-night," she said, +picking to pieces a rose which had fallen away from her stylish gown. +"To watch your wonderful protégée rejoicing over the sweet, uncertain +trophies of her first cotillion, is entirely refreshing. Her extravagant +happiness makes me feel as though I had finished my course and been +decidedly beaten."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see anyone so effulgent?" Ethel continued, following with +her eyes the outlines of Mariposilla's figure. "No one in the room can +approach her in beauty," she mused amiably. "And yet the girl inspires +no jealousy; for, like Donatello, her moral nature seems absolutely +undeveloped. Sometimes she seems like an exquisite link between nature +and the fallen angels."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>"Have you, too, noticed this?" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Ethel replied, "I have been thinking about her ever since that +first visit to Crown Hill. If I am ever famous in the Salon, Mariposilla +shall be the theme for my picture."</p> + +<p>"If you work I am sure you will succeed," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall continue to work," she answered, "but even work is an +uncertain proviso. Sometimes I wonder why God inconveniences the +ordinary mortal with an imagination. Why does he not reserve the +allurements of art for the genius of the century alone?"</p> + +<p>"I so often envy my sister," the girl continued. "It is beautiful to +watch her at a high church service. This one exalted caprice seems to +satisfy entirely her cravings after the extraordinary. She believes the +tenets of her faith so implicitly that she is never beguiled into +uncomfortable doubts. She never reaches after unattainable things, and +is absolutely satisfied with the common conventions of life."</p> + +<p>"Then surely she is happy?" I replied.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>"Yes," answered Ethel, "but look at Sidney Sanderson. Certainly he is +in love with Mariposilla! Watch him a moment and see how he has +forgotten his blasé part to-night. All things considered, I believe the +match would be a good one," she continued. "Sid is carnal enough to +appreciate Mariposilla's physical perfection, and I believe he could +easily dispense with moral and intellectual qualities."</p> + +<p>Later, when Ethel bade me good-night, she whispered that I might depend +upon her as my ally. "If Mr. Sidney becomes too masterful let me know," +she said, gaily, as she enveloped herself in the folds of her evening +cloak.</p> + +<p>Long after the hotel had been hushed with the final hush which follows a +ball, I lay awake thinking of Mariposilla and the possible intentions of +Sidney Sanderson. Time after time her beautiful, passionate face +appeared before me, tortured, one moment, with wild, half-civilized +jealousy; the next, transcendent with blissful trust in the man she +loved.</p> + +<p>When I awoke from my unrefreshing slumbers at the usual time, aroused by +Marjorie, who had crawled into my bed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> I felt that I must invent a +pretext for returning Mariposilla as soon as possible to the care of her +mother.</p> + +<p>The morning was dull. A prophetic contrast to the glorious Christmas +dawn of the day before. The rains had been threatening at intervals for +several weeks, but the sun had dissipated the clouds each day, leaving +always the impression of a pleasant trick arranged for the bewildered +tourist, who, contrary to the example of natives and adopted +Californians, lugged about persistently his mackintosh and umbrella, +declaring each cloudy morning that rain must certainly fall before +night. Then, suddenly, the gray clouds seemed to melt into the liquid +blue of the sky, while against the sides of the purple mountains only +one long streak of vapor rested, like the shroud of a giant.</p> + +<p>The week before Christmas the sky had smoothed away its every trace of +rain. Light snows had sugared the feathery outlines of the distant +peaks, and the delighted tourist had hung up his mackintosh and +umbrella, deciding that the climates of Southern France<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> and Italy were +not to be considered with that of Southern California. Now the clouds +had returned reënforced. The range had grown richer in color, almost +black, except when the sun shot for a moment his presence in temporary +triumph against a spur, that glistened responsively, while the cañons +scowled in dark disapproval. Then, all at once, a gloom, like a +half-dropped curtain, settled back of the foothills, defying the +prophecies of the most ancient mariner of the Coast.</p> + +<p>As I awoke I felt with unusual depression the absence of the sun. And +when I drew aside my curtains I peered in vain for streaks of gold +threading the horizon. The morning was lifeless and gray. Even the great +clusters of cactus, the remains of the natural wall planted by the good +padres years ago for protection against the Indians, seemed an invasion +of gray spirits. Not so when the sun glanced their bristling tops, for +then they shone like knights in full armor.</p> + +<p>My heart went out in childish homesickness to the Doña Maria and the +little nest I had prepared for myself in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> her simple Spanish home. While +I dressed myself and Marjorie, I turned over and over the subject which +had taken possession of my thoughts. How could I escape the +complications of this inopportune visit? How could I, without offending +the Sandersons and noticeably meddling with the discretion of the Doña +Maria, return quietly with Mariposilla to the ranch?</p> + +<p>But the problem grew more difficult as the day advanced, for Mariposilla +was now in a seventh heaven, which surpassed entirely her expectations. +All at once she was the pet and sensation of the hotel. Mrs. Wilbur had +conquered her pique of the previous evening, and, for reasons clear to +herself, she flattered and patronized the child with unlooked-for +benevolence. The gay young woman seemed to have recovered her lost +temper, for she urged Sidney and Mariposilla to waltz after breakfast, +volunteering, with sweet unselfishness, to furnish the music for the +aimless crowd who had congregated in the ball-room. Later, the tennis +experts insisted on a few last sets before the rain, and all sauntered +in the direction<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> of the courts, pairing off as they went, drawn by the +flirtatious affinities of the moment.</p> + +<p>However, tennis soon languished, and the crowd returned to the +Sandersons' sitting-room to beguile the rest of the morning with guitars +and banjos. Mrs. Wilbur professed unbounded admiration for Mariposilla's +performances, and engaged to practice with her that same afternoon, when +the present audience had dispersed for beauty naps.</p> + +<p>"We could soon play together wonderfully well," she declared. The woman +had evidently decided that her best game was to patronize Mrs. +Sanderson's guest, if she intended to regain the attentions of Sidney +when the girl departed. Yet she loved to embitter the latent +apprehensions of the poor child by constant reference to the face in the +silver shrine. I could see that although Mariposilla carried herself +with unusual composure, there was beneath her stifling calm a lurking +tempest of doubt and jealousy. She seemed horribly fascinated by the +unpleasant possibilities of the beautiful face that occupied so many +conspicuous situations in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> room. She gazed again and again at the +lovely, aristocratic features which haunted her to despair. Once she +locked them passionately in their silver case. Quickly turning to a pile +of music, she tried to hide her secret; but Mrs. Sanderson had observed +her.</p> + +<p>"Looking at my beautiful Gladys again?" she said, drawing the blushing +child to her side. "I hope you will know her some day, for Gladys would +love you dearly. She adores everything beautiful."</p> + +<p>The color deepened beneath the Spanish girl's cheek as Sidney's mother +continued to explain the tender relations existing between herself and +the New York heiress.</p> + +<p>"Gladys is the daughter of a school friend, who died when her little one +was but six years old. She is my godchild, and I have watched the +motherless child grow up, thinking always of her loss. The dear girl has +many lovers, but refuses them all. She lives only for her father, who is +an invalid. She will never marry, I am afraid, during his life. I had +hoped to bring them both to California, but, instead, they have gone to +a sanatorium,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> about which Gladys has grown quite wild. The poor girl +believes that her father is going to recover, and has shut herself away +from society and friends, only to be disappointed," the lady added, with +calculating sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps her father will live many years," Mariposilla said, eagerly. To +the suspicious child no Providential arrangement could be more +satisfactory. That the father of Gladys might be spared to a green old +age would now become a part of her prayers. She would say, that very +evening, a double number of aves to our dear Lady. She would supplicate +her to keep the beautiful Gladys with her father in the hospital for +many years. Then, perhaps—she told her poor, foolish, jealous little +heart—then, perhaps, Sidney would love only herself.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI.</span></h2> + +<p>For a brief period in the afternoon the clouds of the morning promised +to disperse. The wind shifted from the rain quarter, and the sun made a +sickly attempt to shine.</p> + +<p>Patches of yellow light tantalized the sulky sides of the mountains. A +presumptuous rainbow started to span the sky, but parted in the middle +and soon disappeared in the settled gloom which quickly followed.</p> + +<p>When the sun first tried to break through the clouds, shortly after +luncheon, Mrs. Sanderson proposed a walk.</p> + +<p>"Come," she said, "I must have the air. One can not house up in +California. Even one day indoors stifles. Mariposilla has arranged to +practice duets with Mrs. Wilbur. Sid is obliged to go to Los Angeles; +Marjorie is asleep. Our best plan is to walk down to the Mission and +back."</p> + +<p>We had gone but half way to the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> church when we perceived that a +rain storm was now indeed coming. Each moment the air grew colder. The +wind suddenly ceased to compromise with the south, changing almost +immediately into the east. The mountains disappeared, and soon the +foothills were hidden beneath a smooth veil of mist. Several immense +drops announced the gathering downpour.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Mrs. Sanderson, "let us make haste, before we are +drenched."</p> + +<p>We were both famous pedestrians, yet before we had reached the hotel the +rain was pelting our faces with stinging persistency. We barely reached +the veranda when the deluge came.</p> + +<p>Those who have seen a California rainstorm, watching for days, perhaps +weeks, the baffled efforts of the clouds to wipe out the landscape, will +understand the term. No word but "deluge" describes adequately the +steady, unremitting torrent which breaks at last from the sky.</p> + +<p>As we entered the house I felt like crying. I was chilly and tired, and +had the feeling that I had been beaten even by Nature. There was now no +excuse for returning to the ranch until after the rain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> I had foolishly +pleaded the danger of exposing Marjorie to the drive, in case of a +storm, and now the rain had come—come to stay for several days; perhaps +for a week. I could not consistently depart until the downpour had +ceased.</p> + +<p>When I said early in the day to Mrs. Sanderson that the weather had +become so threatening that I would very much prefer taking the children +home, she silenced me by reminding me that Mariposilla was visiting with +the full consent of the Doña Maria.</p> + +<p>"The child would be heart-broken to lose one day of her promised week. +As for yourself, you need a change to wake you up. It is absurd for one +so young to refuse the natural enjoyments of youth, and I think your +determination not to dance a pretty but silly affectation. California is +not the place to mourn in. The climate is opposed to dejection. The +natives go to funerals in the morning and chase with the hounds in the +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Don't," I cried peremptorily. "Don't make me believe that you mean what +you say."</p> + +<p>"All the same, I do," she replied. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> am a fatalist, and while I am +permitted to enjoy myself, I shall avoid sackcloth and ashes."</p> + +<p>Perceiving that I was hurt, she endeavored to appease me.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, little dignity," she said, smiling her rarest smile. "You +are always preaching me silent sermons; though you don't mean to scorn +me, I feel your principle in the air, until I am wild to shock you in +return."</p> + +<p>Later, we went for our walk, each a little uncomfortable, as each began +to wonder why she had chosen the other for her friend.</p> + +<p>Upon our return Mrs. Sanderson had remained in the corridor in front of +the open fire attempting to dry her dress. I went above at once. As I +passed the familiar sitting-room I saw through the open door that the +room was deserted. Mrs. Wilbur and Mariposilla had evidently not made a +success of the practicing. Without stopping I went to my own rooms, +where I found Marjorie still asleep.</p> + +<p>Pushing open a communicating door, I saw Mariposilla upon her bed. Her +head was buried in the pillow, while long, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>choking sobs caught and held +her breath. She had been so happy but a short time before, flattered and +pleased because Mrs. Wilbur had invited her to practice duets, that I +was surprised at her condition.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, dear child," I said, gently, "what has happened."</p> + +<p>For several moments she refused to speak, but after a time she grew more +composed. It was clear to me at once that Mrs. Wilbur was responsible +for the girl's passionate grief.</p> + +<p>"Never mind my unhappiness, dear Señora," she said at last, touchingly. +"I am a poor, foolish girl, and must weep when I am sad; just as I +rejoice when I am happy. It is not so with the Americans—they smile +always, even though they are miserable."</p> + +<p>I found it impossible to insist upon a confidence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," I agreed, "as people grow wise and worldly, they generally +grow deceitful. I dare not advise you to cultivate insincerity; but for +convenience you must endeavor to control your emotions. You will, after +a time, learn that it is often best to smile, even though you feel +sore.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> Often a heartache or a heart hunger will go away when we have +bravely concealed it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I have done so!" she cried, fiercely. Rising from the bed she +confronted me excitedly. Upon her sweet face, still wet with tears, +there was an exultant expression, mingled with tragic distress.</p> + +<p>"She knew not that I was unhappy! She thought only to make me wretched, +but I wept not until I was alone," she sobbed, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>Poor little one! how my heart ached for her! How readily was she +acquiring the miserable experience from which I would have saved her. +Never again could she be the Mariposilla she had been before this +unfortunate visit.</p> + +<p>The flame was now lighted which threatened to consume her.</p> + +<p>"Come, dear," I said; "you must not mind Mrs. Wilbur. She is a vain, +foolish woman. If she has hurt your feelings, she has shown herself +coarse and vulgar. Perhaps we had better order a close carriage and go +back to the dear Doña Maria," I continued, jumping at the opportunity to +escape from our difficult surroundings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>"No, no!" she cried, passionately; "let us not go away. I will be +foolish no more. I will look no more into the silver shrine if only we +may stay longer."</p> + +<p>It was impossible to repulse her confidence. I could not then urge her +to shield her love from the probabilities of disappointment. I could not +add to the anguish of her afternoon. I shrank from assisting Mrs. Wilbur +in her cowardly attack. At present I must wait. A few days, at most, +would restore the child to the care of her mother. I would then know +better what course to pursue.</p> + +<p>In my inmost heart I believed that Sidney Sanderson would be willing to +marry the beautiful Spanish girl, but as yet I could not interpret his +mother.</p> + +<p>I was beginning to feel more and more the woman's artful depth, but yet +I did not really doubt her.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla was now quite composed; the thought of our return to the +ranch had silenced her at once. She bathed her face and dressed for +dinner with the greatest care, soon appearing as if nothing had occurred +to disturb her.</p> + +<p>In defiance to the pelting rain, an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>impromptu dance was arranged for +the evening.</p> + +<p>After dinner the young people flew to their rooms to improvise fancy +costumes, for Mrs. Sanderson had decided that the ball should be masqué.</p> + +<p>The lady showed at once great energy in arranging the costumes to be +worn by Mariposilla and Sidney. After considerable maneuvering, she +succeeded in converting her son into a splendid Spanish cavalier. She +had upon her wall a superb trophy of a sombrero, ornate with silver +decorations, which, with other trifles and a red silk scarf properly +arranged, completed the gallant don of the past. Mariposilla, in her +actual character of sweet señorita, was enveloped in a rich mantilla of +black lace, coquettishly caught upon the shoulders and to the hair with +pink roses. A short black satin petticoat displayed the pretty little +feet, encased in dainty slippers that shone with jeweled buckles. The +girl's bare arms and hands glittered with the contents of Mrs. +Sanderson's jewel box.</p> + +<p>We all confessed that we had never seen anyone more beautiful. The +theatrical<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> yet natural character which she assumed had driven away +every vestige of her depression. Never before had the child appeared so +gay. Mrs. Wilbur's most insinuating remark had now no sting. The joyous +present was enough; she would not believe that the future might be full +of tears.</p> + +<p>I remembered, long afterwards, how Sidney Sanderson had forgotten to +look bored; and how both he and Mariposilla had neglected everyone in +the room but each other, like two happy children in their devotion.</p> + +<p>Not once again while we remained in the hotel did I see a shadow upon +Mariposilla's brow. In vain did Mrs. Wilbur endeavor to excite her +jealousy. The child was too happy to doubt. Each moment she grew more +beautiful, maturing almost as we watched her, with the ripening +influences of her strong first love.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII.</span></h2> + +<p>The breath of Easter was in the air. It was hard, even in that last +penitential week, to renounce the seductive wooings of those first April +days. In the little Episcopal chapel, or in the venerable Mission, we +acknowledged each evening our infirmities; but with all our abnegation, +there was for some of us an heterodox satisfaction in hastening away +from our prayers.</p> + +<p>We wanted to exult, rather than to bemoan "our manifold sins and +wickedness."</p> + +<p>We were not sufficiently impressed with our depravity to smell +brimstone, when the air was richly purified with the scent of orange +blossoms and millions of newborn roses.</p> + +<p>Doubtless our lenten orthodoxy would have developed more strongly in the +cutting blast of a Manitoba blizzard. We would have felt more contrite, +drawn by the persuasive chastisements of a sweet spring cyclone. But in +such days as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> ones which followed each other like glad birds in a +flock, it was difficult to assume a despondency adequate to the +penitential demand.</p> + +<p>The Gold of Ophir rose and Mariposilla were now blooming together. The +old house was bright, outside and in, with light and glory.</p> + +<p>From the veranda and the crest of the roof, long sprays of dazzling +bloom swept voluptuously to the sky. In the blushing hearts of myriads +of buds and blossoms, the sun whispered each day his rapturous secrets.</p> + +<p>Wonderful from its first hour of triumph until its last pale, +dilapidated petals have fallen to the ground—a moral to its transient +magnificence—this rose is tragic.</p> + +<p>It seems always the glorious prototype of Mariposilla, who ever stole +its fickle lights and shades. As I watched, through those eventful +weeks, the marvelous unfolding of bud to flower and child to maiden, I +was never able to separate them in my thoughts. Their analogy was +captivating.</p> + +<p>I have already said that I learned instinctively to watch for the girl's +mood in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> the complexion of the rose. When the edges of its petals burned +with fire, I knew that Mariposilla, too, glowed with hope and ecstasy. +When the fog smote sullenly the golden heart of the Ophir, I felt +without looking that the girl, too, was pale, tortured with jealousy, +and indefinite forebodings. Thus for me there will always remain the +fancy that between this rose and the Spanish child there existed a +kinship—a subtile sympathy, that each unconsciously felt when the other +was near.</p> + +<p>Looking back over those happy days, they seem fraught with no ordinary +conditions. Unconsciously all took part in the several acts of a +realistic drama.</p> + +<p>I see now, as I could not then see, the innumerable cues, the important +by-play and scenic situations, which eventually led up to an inevitable +climax.</p> + +<p>As the weeks glided away, I no longer doubted Sidney Sanderson's love +for Mariposilla. Had there been a sign of opposition on the part of his +mother, I would have warned the Doña Maria. But, to the contrary, Mrs. +Sanderson increased her affection daily for her pretty plaything;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> often +alluding to the girl's beneficial influence upon her son.</p> + +<p>"The scamp is head and ears in love!" she said one day. "Just look at +him. I should die of rage and jealousy if I didn't adore his sweetheart +myself," she confided.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla and Sidney were at the far end of the veranda, oblivious to +all but each other.</p> + +<p>The woman then went as far as to intimate that a few years in a +fashionable New York school would do all that was necessary for +Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>"Beauty such as hers would be ruined by rigorous education. Fortunately, +Sid hates wise women. Imagine Mariposilla developing the occult +transitions of theosophy. Come here, you pretty butterfly!" she cried. +"Sid is a greedy boy to keep you away so long. Go fetch the guitar; I am +just in the humor for music."</p> + +<p>Thus the woman countenanced the wooing, petting, and enriching with +gifts the happy child, while she silenced my own doubts and those of the +Doña Maria.</p> + +<p>That Mrs. Sanderson was selfish, worldly, and at times mercenary, I +well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> knew. However, these very attributes led me to believe that she +would gratify herself and her son. I knew how thoroughly she would enjoy +the absolute control of Mariposilla, how extravagantly she would equip +her with the elegancies of life, exulting that Sidney's wife eclipsed +always the beauty of other women.</p> + +<p>Beauty she worshipped.</p> + +<p>It had never occurred to her that Sidney might possibly marry a plain +woman.</p> + +<p>"If Sid should marry a homely girl, I should hate her," she said, one +day. "Is he not splendid?" she would ask, when her son chanced to dwarf +physically his associates.</p> + +<p>And Sidney's exterior was admirable. He dressed perfectly, and there was +about him the freshness of perpetual bathing. To Mariposilla he was the +ideal type of masculine American elegance.</p> + +<p>She scorned each day in her secret soul the careless, unconventional +dress of the remaining Spanish men of her acquaintance, feasting her +eyes with childish delight upon every detail of her lover's faultless +attire.</p> + +<p>Yet, withal, Sidney was not a fop. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> was too blasé, and at times too +sullen, to represent the gibbering class to which his immaculate and +ultra-fashionable clothes might have otherwise attached him. But his +unbounded reticence was his greatest protection; while it gave him, with +some, a reputation for depth. Many believed that, although not brilliant +in conversation, he sympathized silently with culture, and was shrewd in +business affairs. In truth, Sidney had never taken an active part in his +mother's financial transactions; but that her son was a dummy she +carefully concealed. There was a laudable spirit in the woman's +attitude. Her affectionate subserviency to her boy in the eyes of their +friends was admirable.</p> + +<p>I had so often seen wealthy mothers humiliate and belittle their sons, +that, although I believed Mrs. Sanderson to be the business brains of +the family, I was glad that she abstained from flaunting the fact.</p> + +<p>I think I understood the elements of Mrs. Sanderson's character at that +time quite well, with one exception. Unfortunately, I stopped too soon +in my analysis. I innocently took it for granted that she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>possessed a +moral side to her worldly and perhaps frivolous nature. Here was my +fatal mistake. I did not understand that the woman would unflinchingly +sacrifice any one for selfish, momentary enjoyment.</p> + +<p>In all cases her own pleasure was suggested by the inclinations of her +son. To keep him contented and passably respectable, she would have +ruined her dearest friend.</p> + +<p>Ethel Walton was arranging an entertainment to take place shortly after +Easter. The girl was an enthusiast. Everything that she did called for +her heart's best efforts.</p> + +<p>Her present schemes were charitable. The Episcopal church needed an +organ, and Ethel had determined that the necessary money should be +raised. Her artistic and really poetic nature had found an outlet in the +existing emergencies of her church, and she boldly originated a grand +rose pageant. Each day she grew more enthusiastic over her prospects of +success.</p> + +<p>All the youth and beauty of Pasadena had been pressed into the carnival. +The opera-house had been generously donated by the owner; while the +papers each day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> keyed to the highest pitch the expectations of the +public, by promising the most ravishing display of beauty and flowers +ever gathered upon the celebrated Pacific Coast.</p> + +<p>Even the Doña Maria had been beguiled into loaning treasures from the +sacred green chest. But, best of all, she had generously consented to +allow Mariposilla to dance, when Ethel explained, in her pretty way, +that everyone was taking part, for the glory of Pasadena, if not for the +church.</p> + +<p>"Will you believe it?" she said; "I have had scarcely any opposition. My +dances are all full, and I have two magnificent marches composed of +beauties, whose scrupulous parents can't quite go the tripping, but are +delighted to allow their consciences a constitutional walk."</p> + +<p>The rehearsals were, of course, an interesting excuse to go to Pasadena; +and each week we drove over with Mariposilla. At home she was +continually practicing her steps, and the clicking of castanets soon +grew familiar. She was alive with enthusiasm and expectation; while her +costume to be worn upon the eventful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> night became a matter for our +united thoughts, before it was at last satisfactorily designed.</p> + +<p>It was all that the Doña Maria could do to restrain her restless child +through the long, religious hours of Good Friday. When they knelt +together in the old church, Mariposilla listened not to the solemn +prayers. Sternly her mother rebuked her inattention; but the girl's eyes +were flooded with happy dreams, and she forgot over and over again the +crape-draped cross. The pictures of the stern, gloomy saints failed to +frighten her into a state of contrition. Only to the Virgin did she +sometimes lift her wandering eyes to implore protection for the lover +now absent from her side.</p> + +<p>When the sun rose gloriously upon the last day of the penitential +season, Mariposilla's spirits rose too. Nothing could restrain her.</p> + +<p>"I am most tired of prayers!" she cried, innocently joyous in her +emancipation, as we went together, at the request of the Doña Maria, for +lilies.</p> + +<p>Like a field of snow in the sunshine the tall, pure flowers bloomed in +symbolic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> beauty, for the world's glad festival. Our offering to the +sweet Mother and the holy Child was a thousand—and on Easter day they +would make glorious the old church.</p> + +<p>For years the Doña Maria had dressed the ancient Mission for Easter, and +for several seasons her daughter had also assisted. Now for the first +time the girl plead excuses.</p> + +<p>She wanted to go to Pasadena with Sidney and Mrs. Sanderson, as there +was to be a rehearsal of her dance in the afternoon and Ethel had urged +them to drive over early and lunch at Crown Hill.</p> + +<p>Sadly the Doña Maria turned from the basket of white roses she had just +gathered.</p> + +<p>"What!" she exclaimed, "does my child refuse to honor the sweet Mother +and the holy Child? Never before has she thought it other than joy to +arrange the holy altar."</p> + +<p>"Forgive Mariposilla, dear Doña Maria," I said. "Let me assist this +year, and later, when the work is completed, I will drive the child +myself to the rehearsal."</p> + +<p>To this arrangement the mother agreed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> and in consequence we had gone +for the lilies early, reaching the old church in advance of other +workers.</p> + +<p>As we drove through the long, shaded roads of San Gabriel, the waysides +seemed lined with devotees. Everyone was going to some church with +flowers. Wagon-loads of lilies and roses were soon a common, though not +less beautiful spectacle. Loveliest of all were the little children, +hastening eagerly upon their sweet errand, with arms almost hidden +beneath fragrant burdens.</p> + +<p>We met one small child carrying in proud distinction a cross of violets. +Another bore a crown of golden poppies, smiling with the light of the +foothills.</p> + +<p>When we approached the Mission, groups of Mexican children, many of them +in their bare feet, thronged about us with funny little offerings, +composed of flowers whose astonishing tones were often a mad blending of +orange and deep pink.</p> + +<p>The near advent of the happy festival had awakened in these humble +breasts and uncultivated natures a God-given love for the beautiful. +Each arrangement of flowers told a touching story. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> every bunch was +hidden the angel of the child who gathered it.</p> + +<p>When we halted with our fresh burden, Father Ramirez, who was standing +in the doorway of the ancient church, hastened with courtly +consideration to assist us. The old priest commanded the staring +children (in Spanish) to carry the flowers into the church, as he +gallantly hitched our horse.</p> + +<p>Once free from the wagon, I found it impossible to resist the +picturesque old stone stairway, which leads from the ground to the choir +above. Stealing a moment from my duties, I ran up the rough, time-worn +steps, and from a little overhanging balcony caught the morning vision +of the valley, stretching peacefully beyond.</p> + +<p>"Some time I must come here in the moonlight," I said, as I descended +and entered the chilly old church. "Surely I would learn sweet secrets +which the sun each day effaces."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII.</span></h2> + +<p>It had been an eventful day for Ethel Walton. Now but a brief half hour +remained to determine the creditable success of the rose pageant.</p> + +<p>With a sandwich in her hand, she had slipped into the rear passage +leading to the door of Mrs. Sanderson's box.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't come in," she replied to her friend's entreaty to enter. "I +want just one little peep at the audience, while I eat my supper. I must +feel particularly inspired in this last dreadful moment. And the house +is grand," she exclaimed, triumphantly. "'Delightful to the ravished +sense,'" she hummed, enveloping herself gleefully in the folds of a +sheltering portière.</p> + +<p>"What a relief, after all these weeks! Sister has just come from the +front, where they are actually speculating on the tickets. It sounds too +good to be true. I hear the distant strains of the new organ!" she +cried, dramatically. "If only we can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> postpone the murder of the calcium +light man by our bloodthirsty Professor Tiptoe success is ours!"</p> + +<p>She flew gaily from the box to attend to the last few arrangements that +prefaced the overture.</p> + +<p>Pasadena's handsome opera house had been, possibly, the supremest +blessing of the great boom. At the time it was built, few doubted the +absolute necessity of a rival city for the south of the State. +Fortunately for beautiful Pasadena, the men with visions were ruthlessly +awakened to find Los Angeles still the acknowledged commercial center of +the valley. In the meantime, her aristocratic suburb had an opera house +and a number of other delightful conveniences that might have been +delayed in the absence of a boom.</p> + +<p>The audience assembled upon the night of the pageant indicated assured +prosperity. The sight was an opulent surprise for the uninstructed +stranger. Not a vacant seat was visible. The upper galleries were +crowded to the wall; many were standing in the aisles.</p> + +<p>From our box we rejoiced for Ethel in the finished brilliancy of the +scene.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>"Every one in the set is here but the Prince of Wales," Mrs. Sanderson +remarked, jestingly, as she surveyed with honest astonishment the +elaborate equipments of the evening.</p> + +<p>Extending completely around the balcony, across the proscenium, and +encircling both upper and lower boxes, bloomed a variegated band of +exquisite roses, four feet in width.</p> + +<p>Here and there the luxurious band turned from a knot of glorious +Duchesse into a stretch of Maréchal Neil, which farther on caught hold +of the vivid Henrietta. Touching close the pure French rose-color, the +simple, unaffected La Marque lay like a field of snow between voluptuous +meadows—for next beyond, almost throbbing, scintillating with every +change of the lights, shone the Gold of Ophir.</p> + +<p>In its distinctive beauty, it seemed to steal from the wonderful galaxy +of bloom the composite glory of all.</p> + +<p>Last in the wonderful band, the Jacqueminot imparted its dark beauty, +also its rich odor of high-born culture that lingers in the petals long +after their color has fled.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>Although the general scheme of the pageant had been a secret, it was +soon understood that the roses used in the decoration of the auditorium +were sympathetic representatives of those personified upon the stage.</p> + +<p>Each dance was to be an idealization of a particular rose. In the +audience, personal preferences were quite noticeable; for favorite +dances were boldly championed, not only in corsage bunch and +boutonnières, but by superb bouquets of enormous size.</p> + +<p>It is doubtful if more beautiful floral decorations were ever seen. +Viewed from the stage, the dress circle and parquet appeared a huge +garden of beauty; the boxes, fairy bowers, twined with their +representative roses.</p> + +<p>Those attending, almost without exception, were in full evening dress.</p> + +<p>Gay parties of visitors from the various hotels waited eagerly for the +rise of the curtain, satisfied that the decorations of the house +justified great expectations for the performance. Anon, were heard +surprised confessions from the provincial Easterner, who had for the +first time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> discovered the existence of a civilized West.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilbur laughingly owned that her only opportunity for enjoying a +peep at the notorious "wild and woolly" was one afternoon when she had +gone into Los Angeles to a wild and woolly show from New York. The show +pretended to represent the common peculiarities of the West, whereas she +blushed to acknowledge it an embarrassing portrayal of Eastern conceit +and prejudices.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla was to dance in the Spanish dance. She was to personify the +Gold of Ophir rose—their subtile charms would mingle at last.</p> + +<p>It is hardly necessary to relate that our box bloomed with her chosen +rose; that we ourselves heralded our devotion by wearing no rose but the +Gold of Ophir.</p> + +<p>As the overture died away, the curtain lifted upon a scene at once +familiar with local beauty. The time of year was supposed to be +November; and at the foot of the protecting Sierra Madre, whose tops +stretched away in the distance, we beheld the old garden of Las Flores. +The gray haze of summer still hung about the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> peaks, for the Silver +Harlequin, the son of the mighty Rain God, had not come.</p> + +<p>Nature was inactive, as yet unable to overcome the lethargy of her +annual rest.</p> + +<p>In the garden, sheltered by interlacing trees and tall palms, upon a +couch of verdure, slept the goddess Flora—her pagan spirit now at last +purified and free, after weary wanderings in regions of ice and snow.</p> + +<p>Close to the Goddess slumbered the golden Poppies, who ring always the +first sweet bells of spring. The Poppies were dainty children, whose +golden heads and gowns of yellow and green told instantly the story of +the Foothills. The music, which from the first had been soft and dreamy, +now suddenly grew harsh. Its poetry was gone, for stealing into the +peaceful garden came the ashy Breath of the torrid Desert.</p> + +<p>At last he had outwitted the Silver Harlequin, the son of the mighty +Rain God! and his diabolical joy was horrible to behold. His agile +movements were wonderful, as he appeared to actually float through the +air. One moment he leered at the unconscious Goddess, the next he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +satirized, in a demoniac dance, the belated Harlequin. Then, unable to +control his mad fury longer, he summoned from his desert kingdom an army +of Cacti to despoil the beautiful Valley. At the head of this evil +legion, bristling with cruel needles, and grotesquely formidable in its +reality, the Breath of the Desert took formal possession of the Happy +Valley. Through excited gestures he commanded the Cacti to take root in +the fruitful land, to spear the charming plants and choke the tender +flowers; while he breathed upon the sleeping Flora his own fiery breath, +that she might never again gaze into the shining face of the Silver +Harlequin, or feel the touch of the gentle maiden, Spring.</p> + +<p>But his conquest is short, for, even as he exults, the Silver Harlequin +appears, glittering and strong, from the realms of the Rain God.</p> + +<p>In his hand is the magic sword with which he fells to the ground the now +powerless Cacti; then, in majestic anger, challenges to single combat +the vile usurper.</p> + +<p>A moment the irreconcilable enemies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> pause, and then ensues a deadly +fight; thrilling and uncertain as the passionate music leads it on. +Again and again each combatant strives for mastery. Implacable hate +flashes from their burning eyes as their merciless swords strike fiercer +and fiercer. Now, wilder grows the combat; wilder speaks the music, +until at last the fatal plunge is made. The magic sword of the Rain +God's son has triumphed. At the feet of the glittering Harlequin the +Breath of the Desert falls.</p> + +<p>The music then sank into a low, sweet whisper of melody, while at the +same instant the precious rain was heard. The veil of mist ascended from +the glad "Mother Mountains," and a glorious rainbow proclaimed the +advent of the gentle maiden, Spring, who came joyfully from the Magic +Cañon. In her train danced a company of wee, fairy raindrops, who +deluged the Valley gleefully with showers from their sparkling wands.</p> + +<p>Spring held in her hand the magic fern, stolen from the queen of the +highest waterfall of the Enchanted Cañon. With her glittering band she +descended the mountain to do obeisance before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> mighty Harlequin; +then with the wonderful fern she awoke the golden Poppies and the +sleeping Goddess.</p> + +<p>In the second scene, Nature is fully aroused, and gracious Flora smiles +again. The maiden, Spring, pulsing with joy, clad in a robe of palest +green, adorned with sprays of maidenhair from the far, cool cañon, the +breath of almond blossoms in her golden locks, dances before the +Harlequin the dance of Spring. Gliding about the garden she tells her +wonderful secret with poetic grace, falling at last upon her knees +before her shining master, who commands her to bid the Poppies ring once +more the glad, golden bells of Spring.</p> + +<p>No words are spoken. All is action—poetry in motion, intensified by +music.</p> + +<p>As the drop fell on each of the scenes, the house grew stormy with +applause, the air sweet with flying bouquets; while the audience turned +one to another to exclaim at what they had seen, and to speculate upon +what was yet to come.</p> + +<p>The curtain now rose upon the carnival of the Foothills.</p> + +<p>The season had advanced to the latter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> part of February, and from field +and roadside trooped the wild flowers.</p> + +<p>In a succession of charming dances and marches, children and young girls +personified, in artistic and sympathetic costumes, the wealth of wild +flowers which each year adorns the Southern California spring. First +came the Poppies, ringing long chimes of golden bells to the music of +their dainty yellow feet, while close to them marched, in bewildering +phalanx, the delicate lavender Brodiæas. The Brodiæas were graceful +maidens in æsthetic gowns, overlaid with the effective flowers that +trailed from a belt, like green silk cords tipped with purple tassels. +Their pilgrim hats were solid with purple bloom; their long pilgrim +staves a marvel of loveliness, covered with ferns and nodding lavender +flowers.</p> + +<p>Next came the Wild Daisies—dear little girls in quaint, creamy gowns, +sprinkled with yellow field flowers. On their heads, demure Dutch caps +produced the impression of careworn Gretchens, as they sat upon +three-legged daisy stools, knitting their stint of a daisy stocking. +Last, from the Foothills came the Baby-Blue-Eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>—wee men in blue, +trundling small wheelbarrows overflowing with starry blue flowers.</p> + +<p>When each group of wild flowers had in turn completed the dance or march +expressing its idealized part in the carnival, they together formed into +a triumphant tableau as the curtain fell, stormed again with +enthusiastic applause.</p> + +<p>But the event of the evening was yet to come. The rose pageant was about +to begin, and Mariposilla would soon dance.</p> + +<p>Thus far there had been no delay in the performance, no uncertainty, no +halt. We rejoiced momentarily for those who had worked so tirelessly.</p> + +<p>The director of the orchestra, a German, intense and enthusiastic, had +worked hand in hand with Ethel to interpret to the highest degree her +poetic ideas. The little man's delight was visibly manifest as the +performance proceeded. Not once did the music halt, not once did the +intelligent leader fail to intensify the climax of the stage.</p> + +<p>When the drop rose for the grand pageant of the season a hush was upon +the house.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>Then murmurs escaped from all.</p> + +<p>"How superb" exclaimed Mrs. Sanderson, her handsome, critical face +softening with pleasure.</p> + +<p>It was now the season of Easter; the rapturous Valley was in its glory. +High up in the mountains, in a wooded cañon, fringed with growing ferns, +beneath a canopy of roses, we beheld the Goddess. The simple outlines of +her classic robe defined her nobly. Her charming, gracious bearing was +beyond expression, her serene beauty the theme of all.</p> + +<p>Before her knelt the Silver Harlequin.</p> + +<p>With dignity the smiling Flora commanded him to arise and produce the +pageant of Roses, the glory of the year. Now, in obedience to the +Harlequin's magic sword, the Spirit of Easter is felt in the land. +Mission chimes smite suddenly the air. The music deepens into a grand +march, while the bells strike time to its solemn measures. Then appears +a wonderful procession moving slowly to the old church; for from the +far-reaching ranchos of the Valley have assembled strong youths and +sweet señoritas. The snowy robes of the neophytes are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>embellished with +symbolic stoles of white roses; in their hands they carry long fronds +from the date palm, that wave as they march to the victorious strains of +the music. The girls follow, wonderfully beautiful in the ever-changing +lights that intensify their pure robes, or color, with violet, and +green, and amber, the long, floating veils fastened to crowns of white +roses. Pure roses deck their throats and glistening arms, while in their +hands they bear tall tapers in rose candlesticks. Like a beautiful +vision they pass and repass, the waving palms and shining tapers telling +a sweet story of youthful devotion to a poetic religion. Then the music +deepens, the fickle lights intensify, and the old bells ring sadly and +solemnly the chimes of a picturesque and dead past.</p> + +<p>As the White Roses drifted away, the scene suddenly changed.</p> + +<p>In a blaze of light and music, the Silver Harlequin now called before +the Goddess an array of dainty color and grace. Stepping the faultless +measures of a court quadrille came the ladies of the Duchesse Rose. Clad +in Empire gowns of pink, garlanded with pink roses, wearing huge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> hats +from under whose rose-laden brims they glanced with coquettish charm, +they took all hearts by storm.</p> + +<p>Next in the marvelous pageant came the Yellow Butterflies, born in the +hearts of the great Maréchal Neil. One by one they flitted with bright +yellow wings from the dark hiding-places of the garden.</p> + +<p>The sixteen glancing creatures were blondes. Golden hair floated about +their white shoulders, and golden crowns sustained the jeweled antennæ, +which quivered while they danced. Maréchal Neil roses clung to their +gowns and smiled into their faces, as they poised and wavered in the +gorgeous, ever-changing lights.</p> + +<p>Now from the distant Orient were seen approaching dark beauties clad in +the purest rose color. They were borne by slaves of the Sultan in +sumptuous sedans covered with rich Henrietta roses. As the beauties left +their flower chairs, they posed gracefully before the goddess, then sped +away to perform a charming tamborine dance, which fully realized the now +exalted expectations of the audience.</p> + +<p>Hardly had the roses of the Orient vanished before the garden was again +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>brilliant. The sweet Jacqueminots had come in dainty aprons, big +kerchiefs, and colonial caps. Industriously the pretty maidens plied the +rose-twined spinning wheels of their grandmothers, until the imaginary +stint was spun; then, abandoning their picturesque wheels, they joined +in an old-fashioned dance upon the green.</p> + +<p>When the colonial maids had passed from sight, followed by rounds of +patriotic applause, Mrs. Sanderson moved nearer to the front of the box.</p> + +<p>"The señoritas have discharged their spiritual duties; they are coming +now to dance," she said, smiling, as she eagerly scanned the side +approaches of the stage.</p> + +<p>She had but ceased to speak when from secluded Spanish gardens, +flourishing now only in the imagination of the aliens who destroyed +them, came the dark, happy, historic señoritas.</p> + +<p>Emotional, fickle, passionate—rare personifications of their typified +rose—the matchless, wonderful Gold of Ophir. A hush of surprise for a +moment pervaded the house; then its enthusiasm burst forth, when the +sixteen señoritas began to weave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> and glance in the intricate measures +of an old Spanish dance.</p> + +<p>"Where," whispered Mrs. Wilbur, "did Miss Walton find these marvelous +creatures? And how did she create such costumes?"</p> + +<p>"The coloring is perfect," Mrs. Sanderson declared. "The fickle shading +is all there, showing in every detail. See how the Ophir buds nestle in +the yellow lace mantillas. The effect is thrilling."</p> + +<p>Fast and daintily flew the thirty-two golden feet. Brilliantly flashed +the jewels on the white arms, swung high at the bidding of castanets. +Then the spirit of the music changed, and the señoritas vanished into +the shadow of the trees, to return instantly with gorgeous hoops of +Ophir roses. Dancing again, they formed at last on each side of the +garden.</p> + +<p>From this living phalanx of bloom, extending like twin sprays of the +marvelous Ophir, sprang Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>Shaming not her prototype, she stood before us, the vision of all that +we had anticipated.</p> + +<p>For a moment she hesitated, trembling like an Ophir bud in the breeze. +Then her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> lovely, tearful eyes sought for Sidney. For once in his life, +the man forgot himself. For once, honest emotion swayed him.</p> + +<p>Leaning unconsciously from the box, enamored, forgetful of the audience, +spellbound, he snatched from his coat the rose that Mariposilla had +given him. Pressing it to his lips, he flung it at the feet of the +trembling child.</p> + +<p>It was enough. The dancer's response told passionately, without words, +what she never could have said.</p> + +<p>Her form seemed suddenly enveloped in translucent light. She was +oblivious to everything but the rapturous moment.</p> + +<p>Clad in the fatal satin skirt of the Doña Maria's little dead sister; +about her throat, the coveted necklace of opals, and, draping her +beautiful head, the filmy yellow wedding lace of her mother, she danced +as she never danced before. She seemed a marvelous apparition, freed +from a haunted chamber of the Alhambra. With every step, with every +movement of the palpitating figure, with every droop of the deep-fringed +eyelids and every fling of the glancing arms, the ecstatic passion of +her young life was manifest.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p><p>Unconsciously she imparted to the dance of her nation the tragic +possibilities of her nature.</p> + +<p>Forgetting all restraint, all method, she abandoned her liberated body +to the emotions of her throbbing soul.</p> + +<p>Long afterward, all remembered how she had swayed the great house into +irresistible tumult; then suddenly had floated mysteriously away, lost +in the dazzling retreat of the señoritas.</p> + +<p>The pageant terminated with a superb tableau, symbolizing the end of the +prolific rose season.</p> + +<p>At Easter, and for a number of weeks after, nature grows prodigal. Then +comes a lull. The roses have exhausted themselves. The brilliant +carnival is over, and a number of weeks must now elapse before the vines +and bushes gather strength to flower again.</p> + +<p>With an appropriate accordance to reality, the closing tableau +represented, with poetic significance, the return of Spring, accompanied +by wild flowers and roses, to the Magic Cañon.</p> + +<p>From the front of the garden the brilliant procession wound upward in +tiers of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> harmonious color, until, far above in the mountains, the +Silver Harlequin and Spring stood close to the entrance of the Magic +Cañon. From the heart of this enchanted spot all had issued—a divine +secret; all were again returning to sleep until nature bid them once +more arouse. This last magnificent spectacle was glorified by strong +rose lights; while from above a silent rain of variegated rose petals +fell like a soothing benediction.</p> + +<p>When the curtain was at last down, the artistic and financial success of +the pageant was the theme of the entire community.</p> + +<p>The profits of the matinée, to be given the next afternoon, would more +than defray expenses, and the proceeds of this victorious night would be +safe.</p> + +<p>Ethel and her able assistants were happy with excitement. Upon the now +demoralized stage they were receiving congratulations from throngs of +friends. Ethel stood like a delighted child between her father and the +rector, when Mrs. Sanderson approached to utter the pretty things she +always said so well.</p> + +<p>At her side stood Mariposilla, flushed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> and submissive to the woman's +bold caresses.</p> + +<p>"Our little Butterfly is weary after her wonderful flight," the lady +said, turning to the rector in her inimitable way. "Bring the little +one's cloak, Sidney," she continued, addressing her son, who went at +once to find a rich, fur-lined garment belonging to his mother.</p> + +<p>"There," she said, when the young man returned with the wrap and placed +it solicitously about Mariposilla, "the dear child will now be quite +safe from a cold."</p> + +<p>The running hither and thither was at last decreasing. The lights were +growing dim and the performers were rapidly dispersing. We ourselves +were just leaving the stage, when Ethel flew to my side and claimed +Mariposilla for the night.</p> + +<p>"She must come home with me," she declared. "I want to take care of her +for to-morrow. It is perfect nonsense for her to drive to San Gabriel +when she must return at noon to-morrow. I am determined to have my own +way to-night," she cried. "It is the duty of all to spoil me this once," +she declared, when Sidney interfered, volunteering to bring <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>Mariposilla +to the opera house in good season the next day.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the girl with an oracular shake of her finger, +"Mariposilla belongs to me to-night. You may control her movements after +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly the child yielded to the decision of Ethel. As she parted +from her lover she unconsciously smiled up into his face a regretful +good-night that answered touchingly his own silent renunciation.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX.</span></h2> + +<p>Ethel went early to the opera house the morning after the eventful night +of the pageant. The flowers would need freshening, and the girl was +determined that the matinée should give full satisfaction to those who +had been denied the excitement of the opening night. She knew that many +delicate persons and children would attend in the afternoon. There would +also be critical ones, who, having failed to secure tickets in time for +the evening performance, would come to the matinée, perhaps with +ungenerous spirits. For these reasons Ethel desired that the decorations +of the house and stage should both delight and astonish, as they had +done upon the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Afterward the girl told how she had felt almost like weeping when she +entered alone the dark, chilly opera house.</p> + +<p>"It seemed like a great tomb, with its thousands of wilting roses," she +said. "Until joined by others, I was filled with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>horrible depression. +I felt as if something miserable was about to happen. The flowers really +looked no worse than I had expected, for the gorgeous band was still +effective; but its first, perfect freshness was gone, its roses were +dying, and I was alone at their death. Of course," she continued, "I +felt better when we covered the withered places with fresh roses, but I +was still restless and foolishly apprehensive."</p> + +<p>Yet, with all the girl's uneasiness, she had little time for indulging +nervous presentiments. There was much work to be done, and the time was +short. Even when the decorations had been satisfactorily freshened, her +unreliable performers would have to be looked after.</p> + +<p>One girl had left a candlestick, which must be retrimmed; another had +forgotten to take home her hoop, which had to be twined with fresh Gold +of Ophir roses. Last of all she must collect and sort carefully all the +necessary articles that would be called for by fair irresponsibles at +the very last moment.</p> + +<p>When I joined her in the green room at one o'clock, she looked anything +but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>dejected, as she dabbed energetically the contents of a rouge pot +onto the cheeks of a procession of maidens, filing in turn before her.</p> + +<p>"There! go in peace, and dance your best," she cried, flinging away the +ruddy rag as the last of the file passed on to the artist who was doing +the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Everything moves anxiously to-day," the girl said, pathetically, while +she rested a moment against the wall. "I suppose I am a simpleton, but I +feel as if the crack of doom were at hand. Mariposilla is late, although +I told them to send her at half past twelve, and the Harlequin's wife +has forgotten his cap," she said, almost hysterically, as she turned +from my side to answer a volley of unnecessary questions.</p> + +<p>"Where shall we go, Miss Walton?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Walton, can't I have some paint on my cheeks?"</p> + +<p>"Please, Miss Walton, my slipper is untied!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Walton, my sister has lost her hat."</p> + +<p>"Go directly onto the stage and stay, in readiness for your positions," +the girl answered, distractedly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p><p>"Come," I said, hoping to take her a moment out of herself, "Come with +me into one of the flies; I have something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Dear me," she exclaimed, "what can have become of Mariposilla?"</p> + +<p>"She is safe to-day," I answered, as we entered the fly. "She is safe +to-day! But what will become of her to-morrow? The Sandersons have +gone!"</p> + +<p>"The Sandersons gone!" the girl repeated, in excitement. "Where have +they gone?"</p> + +<p>"They left to-day at noon for New York, to enable Sidney to marry, if +possible, Gladys Carpenter. Her father has just died. With his death the +daughter inherits three millions."</p> + +<p>The words had but escaped my lips when a commotion in the adjoining fly +betokened some catastrophe. In a second we had pushed through a crowd of +frightened girls, to bend in horror over the prostrate form of +Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>"She is dead," cried Ethel. "She heard what we said and our words have +killed her."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" I whispered, "she has only fainted. Get water quickly."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p><p>Ethel flew at my bidding, while I unfastened the little bodice that but +a moment before had heaved so lightly with the pulsations of a happy +heart. Dear little Butterfly, I thought, how cruelly have your poor +little wings been crushed!</p> + +<p>Hot, indignant tears rained from my eyes, as I superstitiously unclasped +the opal necklace, once worn by the beautiful, unfortunate Lola.</p> + +<p>Ethel had now returned with the water, and the crowd, still pressing +about us, was creating a panic.</p> + +<p>"Stand back," I cried. "Don't you see you are taking every breath of the +air?" As I spoke, the excited, curious, theatrical throng fell away.</p> + +<p>Enveloped in her mother's wedding lace, that in the fall had shrouded +her with prophetic significance, Mariposilla lay like one dead, +unconscious of a miserable awakening. As I bent beside her I almost +dreaded to see the heavy fringes lift from the beautiful eyes that I +feared would never shine again with their old happy light.</p> + +<p>"Dear child!" I whispered, as I applied the water, "what can we do to +mend your poor little broken heart?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>While I yet spoke, the delicate eyelids began to quiver, and a little +hand to tremble. A tired sigh and then a stifled sob burst from the +lips.</p> + +<p>"Darling, be brave, you have only fainted. I will take you home to the +dear Doña Maria," I said, as naturally as I could.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla lifted her great sorrowful eyes in mute entreaty; then two +heavy tears rolled to her cheeks, imploring me to fulfill my promise. I +knew that it was best to take her home while she wished it.</p> + +<p>In her weakness she had not the strength to realize her sorrow. She +seemed almost to have forgotten the occasion of her shock, for she +closed her eyes at once, and submitted almost unconsciously to her +transportation to the carriage. Tenderly we placed her on the very +cushions from which she had sprung, but a few hours before, radiant and +expectant.</p> + +<p>Would she not see Sidney! The cruel night, and the long, uneventful +forenoon were at last over. Now she could dance again for her lover. +When it was all over, she would ride away with him in the gay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> trap. He +would tell her once more how fondly he loved her. Tell her how beautiful +she was—how much more beautiful than the cold, wise Gladys. Then she +would go again to the dear, bright hotel for dinner. She would sit by +Sidney. He would watch her every desire, and when dinner was ended they +would go to the pretty sitting-room, where she would look fearlessly +into the silver shrine; for never again would she be jealous and weep. +No, no! not when her lover had sworn that he loved not the cold, +beautiful Gladys; that he cared not for her riches or accomplishments. +Then, after a while, all would go to the ball-room; Sidney would lead +her to dance, and Mrs. Wilbur would be unhappy. But she—she, +Mariposilla, would be joyful!</p> + +<p>Poor, foolish little Butterfly, flitting eagerly from flower to flower, +drinking, unconsciously, deadly poison with honey, how cruelly different +from the sweet dreams of the morning would be the realities of the +evening!</p> + +<p>While she ran gaily from the carriage at noon, full of sweet, innocent +visions, the ironic interpretation of her pitiful fate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> was even then +decided. For, flying from rash promises, flying from the distractions of +her beauty, flying from the tardy entreaties of conscience—Sidney +Sanderson and his mother had gone.</p> + +<p>With every intervening mile they were outstripping her ruined love, were +nearing the selfish goal of the mother's ambitions; nearing the desolate +Gladys, who, bowed with grief, and ignorant of all, would take, at the +entreaty of her dead mother's friend, the reluctant lover who could +never make her happy.</p> + +<p>Poor Gladys! Poor Mariposilla!</p> + +<p>Even before I allowed myself to acknowledge the perfidy of the woman +with whom I had been so intimately associated, I began to understand +her, when, early in the morning, a groom from the hotel brought me a +note, asking me to drive over at once, as they were to leave that day at +noon for the East.</p> + +<p>"Duty compels us to go," Mrs. Sanderson wrote, shamelessly.</p> + +<p>The word "duty" aroused at once my suspicions. I felt with a creeping +certainty that Gladys Carpenter was the woman's prey. I believed that +some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> unexpected turn of fortune had revived Mrs. Sanderson's ambitions.</p> + +<p>I was sure that she had at one time relinquished all hope of obtaining +the heiress for her son; but I felt on my way to the hotel a sudden +presentiment that, on account of some unlooked-for occurrence, she was +going to New York to revive her abandoned schemes.</p> + +<p>I felt an uncomfortable stiffness as I entered the once familiar +sitting-room, now in a state of wild disorder.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sanderson was on her knees, packing the last trunk. Upon the floor +were piles of clothing and innumerable trifles, which she had torn from +the wall.</p> + +<p>"Dear child! How good of you to come!" she said, extending her hand with +brazen determination. "It would have broken our hearts to have left +without seeing you. And dear Mariposilla! and Pet Marjorie, and the good +Doña Maria—how can we ever be reconciled to leave them?"</p> + +<p>"Why is your departure compulsory?" I asked, coldly.</p> + +<p>The woman perceived instantly that I understood her, but her control was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>perfect. Her will was diabolical, yet for a moment a gleam of anger +darkened her eyes. Then she answered naturally:</p> + +<p>"Dear Gladys has lost her father. She is perfectly crushed, and has +wired us to come at once."</p> + +<p>I stood like a stone, while she told again of the intimate relations +that had always existed between the families.</p> + +<p>"Gladys is just like my own child," she continued, turning away her face +with the pretense of forcing a protruding Indian basket into the trunk. +"We are so disappointed to miss the matinée," she said, with her face +still in profile. "Sid begged to stay until to-morrow, just to see +Mariposilla dance, but I persuaded him that it would be brutal to +neglect Gladys one moment longer than the necessary time for our +miserable journey."</p> + +<p>Before I could reply she had crossed the room to her son, who was +fumbling over a finished trunk.</p> + +<p>"Don't touch the things in the tray," she cried, nervously. "I never saw +such a boy. This morning he actually packed books on top of my best +tea-gown."</p> + +<p>I knew that the insolence of the woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> had cowed me. She was sublime in +her villainy.</p> + +<p>I stood helplessly rooted to the spot which I had first selected upon +entering the room. Too weak to stand unsupported, I leaned against the +table. My perverse silence must have astonished the woman, but she +talked on loquaciously, appearing not to notice my lack of interest.</p> + +<p>How I despised her! How hard she looked to-day, when only the night +before I had thought her charming and humane.</p> + +<p>Doubtless she had slept but little since she left the box in the +Pasadena opera house. In the strong morning light she looked old and +strangely haggard. Dark circles defined more clearly the faint network +of wrinkles beneath her eyes. Her whole countenance was drawn with the +tension of her anxious night.</p> + +<p>Her aristocratic nose seemed elongated with the avaricious thinness +noticeable in grayhounds when the chase is at its height. Even the +delicate, shapely hands appeared parched and old.</p> + +<p>Never again would I think of the woman as beautiful.</p> + +<p>I saw her now for the first time in her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> true, deplorable character. +With but one object to accomplish, her masterful selfishness had taken +possession of her soul. Closing tightly its chamber, she refused to hear +the entreaties of the outraged voice that plead in vain. For Mrs. +Sanderson, retribution was the ghost of the cowardly; repentance, a +science to be skillfully ignored.</p> + +<p>I could endure my thoughts no longer.</p> + +<p>"Good bye," I said, coldly, as I walked mechanically to the door.</p> + +<p>As I spoke, the woman raised herself with decision from the floor. With +outstretched hands she attempted a fraudulent embrace; but I anticipated +the movement in time to escape.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" I cried, in childish tremolo; "you must not touch me. I will +not pretend that I am sorry that I will never see you again. I will +never forget what you have done. Now I will go away, despising you, to +the unhappy child whose life you have ruined for selfish amusement and +the idle entertainment of your son!"</p> + +<p>At last I had spoken, and at last she recoiled before me.</p> + +<p>Without waiting to hear what she would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> attempt to say, I fled like Lot +from the City of Destruction. But fatal curiosity I had not, and I cared +not how the Sandersons writhed in the fire of my indignation.</p> + +<p>My only desire was to get out of the house and never see them again.</p> + +<p>As I left the hotel the groom in waiting advanced to drive me home.</p> + +<p>"I will walk," I said curtly, spurning even this last attention from the +woman I had left.</p> + +<p>Later in Pasadena, when I heard the departing shriek of the Overland, +with its echo flung fatefully back from the mountains as the train +rounded a curve, I knew that the Sandersons had cut loose forever from +the complications of their San Gabriel episode.</p> + +<p>In justice to Sidney, I believe him to have been the better of two bad +people. I believe that in his sensual selfishness he would willingly +have resigned his mother's ambitions in regard to a marriage with Gladys +Carpenter, glad to enjoy, for a time at least, the simple fascinations +and marvelous beauty of Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>The man was so perfectly carnal, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> easily bored by the least +intellectual superiority in a woman, that I believe he would have +remained true to his own choice, had it not been for his mother's +threats and positive command to marry, if possible, the three millions +at hand.</p> + +<p>I know that the thought of the classic, high-bred, sorrow-bowed Gladys +must have been a cold shock, after his recent associations with +Mariposilla. He must have remembered long how the Spanish girl adored +him openly with all her young heart. Perhaps even as he went away the +man held in cowardly reserve the possibilities of a refusal from the +heiress.</p> + +<p>I knew without being told that the conflict between the mother and son +had been bitter. The mother had conquered, but Sidney had managed to +write a parting note to his abandoned sweetheart, which the poor child +unfortunately received. His slender promises only delayed her final +despair, making it hopeless for those about her to arouse her pride or +to graft in her trusting heart a proper disdain for the false lover.</p> + +<p>I afterwards read his cowardly note, and saw clearly its import.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>Now that Mrs. Sanderson had at last wearied of her infatuation, the +proud, high-born Gladys, with her millions, would eclipse a dozen +Spanish beauties. Soon she would laugh and jest over the affair with her +New York friends, describing Mariposilla delightfully, while she +enlarged upon the poor child's passion for her son.</p> + +<p>I have since wondered if the Spanish girl would have been happy had Fate +consented to her choice. I sometimes believe that eventually the +restraints and requirements of the untried life would have wearied her. +I also believe that with a nature so true, so simple and affectionate, +she would have done her best to excel in the eyes of those she loved. In +a responsive atmosphere her proud ambition would have fulfilled her +will. With the cold and critical she would have lost her subtile charm. +Away from her mountains and unconventional life she might have learned +sad lessons. She could never have conned them alone without an aching +heart; for, like her rose, she would have grown pale and dejected away +from the sunlight of love.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XX.</span></h2> + +<p>In Southern California that part of the year extending from the middle +of November to the middle of May virtually represents to the stranger +its season.</p> + +<p>The secret of the delightful summer, tempered, especially in the San +Gabriel Valley and the vicinity of Santa Barbara, by unfailing +sea-breezes, would astonish the infidel tourist who has flown excitedly +away, stubbornly denouncing the summer as unbearable. Perhaps he has +experienced two or three warm days in May that have played a trick on +the tardy trade winds. If so, he comprehends perfectly, from a few +weeks' sojourn, the imminent danger of climatic cremation.</p> + +<p>He believes, ignorantly, that he has fled from the mid tropics, when he +mops the damp perspiration from his gigantic brain-front in the dizzy +June of an interior town. Devoutly thanking the kind Providence that has +returned him to Tuckersville, he proceeds to write for the Tuckersville +<i>Sun</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> full particulars relating to the climate and limited resources of +Southern California.</p> + +<p>Still, contrary to the slanders of the Tuckersville man, the weather, +with the exception of a few warm days in the early spring, remains +delightfully cool from the middle of April until the middle of August.</p> + +<p>September is possibly less agreeable, for it is then that people are apt +to believe themselves tired or warm, and there is a general wishing for +change.</p> + +<p>In the sweet, quiet summer, one wishes for nothing.</p> + +<p>Refreshing breezes from the broad Pacific extend inland for many miles, +and if occasional warm days come, the coast is near by, always inviting +for a day those who do not care to stay long by the sea, or cannot +afford a protracted outing.</p> + +<p>For those who desire weeks of recreation and salt bathing, the Pacific +coast offers every advantage. On the irresistible Santa Catalina Island, +at the pleasant hotels that dot the coast, or in the poor man's +sequestered cañon close to the sea, there are opportunities of rest and +enjoyment for all.</p> + +<p>To the resident of the San Gabriel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>Valley, who truly loves its grand, +natural beauty enough to enjoy the free gifts of each day, there is +about the summer a never-ending sense of peace and rest.</p> + +<p>The winter months are restless and rushing—full of social excitement +and alive with indefatigable sight-seers. As long as the tourist is +abroad in the land his presence is a perpetual challenge. His +disappointments are personally felt each day by his friends.</p> + +<p>It is unfortunate that much of the picturesque hospitality of earlier +days should have given way to a more laborious and less charming mode of +entertaining. Now, the Marthas of pretentious country houses and elegant +villas are "cumbered about much serving."</p> + +<p>I had fortunately escaped both convention and routine in my life with +the Doña Maria Del Valle, but I had been drawn by degrees into an +experience that, from the beginning, was an anxious strain. I was now +almost ill; I needed a change and the sea.</p> + +<p>Yet I dared not desert Mariposilla, for I felt daily the burden of the +part I had taken in establishing her intimacy with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> the Sandersons. I +was determined to restore, if possible, her stolen happiness. The child +seemed now comparatively docile and less changed than I had feared. I +did not expect her to resist at once her first crushing disappointment, +but in a few weeks I expected to take her to the seashore, when I hoped +to surround her with new friends and new pleasures.</p> + +<p>Time alone could help her, and I was full of hope.</p> + +<p>I had now fully determined to educate Mariposilla, to fit her, with the +Doña Maria's permission, for intimate contact with the dangerous world.</p> + +<p>So infatuated I became with my plans that I again misunderstood the +girl, while I foolishly lost sight of her race inheritances.</p> + +<p>I thought she would revive, after a time, as an American girl would have +revived. I expected her to be restored, with new beauties of mind and +character.</p> + +<p>As the days went by and nothing unusual happened, I told myself, +joyfully, that experience was working the cure. I believed that soon a +womanly scorn would heal effectually the wound which Sidney Sanderson +had inflicted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p><p>The girl had not grown less beautiful. With her trouble there had come +into her face, after the first wild paroxysms of grief, a look that I +could not interpret. I know now that it was the reflection of hope, a +hungry, superstitious expectancy that tugged hourly at her heart.</p> + +<p>Sidney's parting note had inspired in the ignorant girl the faith that +he would return.</p> + +<p>She had grown very gentle. She went regularly to mass, and arranged +flowers each day in front of the little Spanish Virgin. One day I +noticed that she had wreathed the picture in ivy, and ever after the +grotesque little Mother displayed her finery subdued by the dark, cool +leaves.</p> + +<p>In the child's own room was carefully treasured every trifling relic of +Sidney's past devotion. She had decked the whitewashed walls, in +imitation of Ethel Walton's æsthetic chamber, with every small, sweet +souvenir of the winter. The favors she had received at the eventful +holiday cotillion surrounded the little looking-glass. Above her bed +hung a cane and a cast-off tennis cap of Sidney's; while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> tenderly +hidden from sight, except when she opened the drawer each day to weep, +were the innumerable trinkets and gifts that her false lover had given +her.</p> + +<p>Every empty candy-box and every withered flower had been lovingly saved.</p> + +<p>She still wore about her throat the little necklace, but the bracelet +she concealed pitifully beneath her sleeve.</p> + +<p>Each day she dressed with unusual care, expecting always the return of +her lover.</p> + +<p>One day a lover came. Not Sidney, for whom her poor heart pined, but +Arturo, her kinsman.</p> + +<p>There was no scene, as we had feared, for the Doña Maria had warned the +young man to restrain, for the present, all signs of impatient passion.</p> + +<p>"Speak to her not of love," she said, sadly, when she had confided to +the burning, indignant youth by her side the present state of +Mariposilla's feelings. "The poor, foolish child yet believes that the +American will return," she explained. "Be patient, dear son," the Doña +Maria besought when Arturo chafed under his tedious restraint; "the +American will soon marry the choice of his mother;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> then will my poor +deluded child lie crushed; yet, by the will of God, she will revive.</p> + +<p>"Tell her not yet of love, only of the success and riches which you have +gained. Treat her gently, as a sister, and in time all may be as we +desire."</p> + +<p>It was surprising how considerate the handsome, hot-headed Arturo +remained, restrained always by the quiet persuasions of the firm, quiet +Doña Maria.</p> + +<p>The boy's unexpected return had been full of comfort to the lonely +Spanish woman. She loved her grandnephew as a son; while she rejoiced +daily that the young man was growing more and more like her own lost +Arturo, whose name he bore.</p> + +<p>As the summer wore away, the Doña Maria grew content. She believed that +Mariposilla would outgrow her sorrow, that in time Arturo would be +successful in his suit, and that she might yet live to hold in her arms +the children of her dear ones—dark, rich little beauties, who would +preserve through yet another generation the inheritance of the Spanish +blood.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p><p>"How often did I weep when I thought of my child united not with one of +her own race. When I saw in my dreams grandchildren—pale little ones +that I could not love, I cared scarcely to live," she said, +pathetically.</p> + +<p>With the exception of the Doña Maria's mother, who was now confined to +her bed, our household moved as usual.</p> + +<p>Arturo took a masterful charge of the neglected ranch, and, as the +summer advanced, a gradual calm pervaded both the land and the family.</p> + +<p>Through the middle of the day all enjoyed the refreshing siesta, and by +the early afternoon the ocean breeze was stirring delightfully. Great +baskets of luscious fruits were picked daily and placed about the +veranda. In the grape arbor a table held always a pitcher of cool +lemonade, delightfully softened with fruit flavorings.</p> + +<p>The Doña Maria loved to prepare pleasant drinks, and, now that Arturo +had returned and Father Ramirez came more often to the ranch, the good +woman had frequent opportunities for serving her friends.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>She revived the pleasant Spanish custom of gathering in the arbor for +light refreshments. Each day she grew happier and more hopeful in regard +to the future of her child.</p> + +<p>The old priest also believed that Mariposilla would soon recover from +her childish disappointment and be but too willing to accept for a +husband the handsome Arturo, who had now a half interest in a large +quicksilver mine in Old Mexico.</p> + +<p>During the quiet afternoons Arturo took the greatest pains to explain to +Father Ramirez his plans and ambitions. In the old summer house the +young man would spread out the map of Mexico, tracing eagerly the new +railroads, while he located, enthusiastically, his mine.</p> + +<p>"There is no country like it," the younger man would declare, joyfully. +"I am impatient every moment that I remain away.</p> + +<p>"Of course, the American hounds are stealing in, just as they stole into +California. Their cursed gold ought to buy them Paradise; yet, in Mexico +they can never be the aristocracy. The gates and doors of the old +families will always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>remain barred to the pale thieves who seek to +enter."</p> + +<p>"Be not so angry with the strangers, my son," replied the old priest. +"Remember that gold and brains are both necessary in the development of +any undeveloped country. The Americans have both. Love of race is noble, +but often it dwarfs the mind. The cosmopolitan will ever succeed, while +the narrow and revengeful will generally fail. But here comes the Doña +Maria, we will contend no more," the old priest exclaimed, joyfully, as +he clasped the hand of his dear old friend.</p> + +<p>"Arturo is a true son of Spain," he said, gazing into the burning face +of the youth he had always loved. "He is unlike his generation. He +should have lived earlier."</p> + +<p>I had heard without attempting to listen. Through my open window I often +caught snatches of conversation that gave me a pleasant insight into the +lives of these most interesting people. The warm, unrestrained affection +and tender social relations existing between the old priest and his +parishioners were things that I had not until now understood.</p> + +<p>I often heard, in quiet, half undertone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> the name of Mariposilla. +Sometimes Arturo grew passionate in spite of his discretion. Then the +old priest would reprove him gently; for he was a born Jesuit, +restraining all those about him with calm determination.</p> + +<p>"Peace, my son, always peace!" he would say. "Time alone can do for us +what haste could never accomplish. Soon the blow will descend, for the +false lover will marry the heiress. The poor little one will be crushed +for a time, and then she will revive.</p> + +<p>"Remember, through these hard weeks of waiting, only your love. Let not +anger or revenge fill your young heart. Keep that ever clean and pure, +ready for the treasure it shall some day hold."</p> + +<p>"I will try to obey, Father," the young man replied, rebelliously. "It +is easy for you to reprove," he exclaimed. "You who have never known the +misery of a hopeless love."</p> + +<p>A strange shadow flitted across the old priest's face. "How knowest +thou, my son, that I never battled with unrequited affection? Judge not +that the old father is stone. He was once even as thyself. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> God +forbid that he should think of aught now but the world beyond, and poor +souls trying to find it."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Father," the young man said, tenderly. "I will be a good +son, and, in return for my obedience, you shall one day order the chimes +of Old San Gabriel to ring for my wedding."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI.</span></h2> + +<p>The announcement of the marriage of Sidney Sanderson to Gladys Carpenter +reached us during the latter part of June.</p> + +<p>We were indebted to Mrs. Wilbur for the New York papers in which we read +the embellished details of the "strictly private nuptials." The several +accounts agreed in pronouncing the marriage the most noteworthy +matrimonial event of the early summer. The facts, in brief, were as +follows:</p> + +<p>"The beautiful bride, heiress to three millions, although in deep +mourning for her father, had laid aside, only for the wedding ceremony, +the somber robes of her recent bereavement. At the close of the +impressive yet simple service, she had resumed her mourning, preparatory +to the departure for Scotland. On the historic isle, sequestered in a +romantic castle overlooking Loch Lomond, Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson would +spend their honeymoon. Society had unanimously agreed that a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> match more +suitable in every way had seldom occurred. The high social position of +both parties, the beauty and fortune of the bride, combined with the +popular traits of the handsome groom, pointed unmistakably to social +leadership.</p> + +<p>"The palatial home of the late Rufus Carpenter would, doubtless, become +a recognized center, when his beautiful daughter again rejoined with her +chosen husband, the charmed circle of the Three Hundred."</p> + +<p>This is the substance of what we knew. All that we would ever certainly +know of the two lives in question.</p> + +<p>For us the history of Sidney Sanderson was virtually closed. I alone +claimed the privilege of imagining his uneventful end.</p> + +<p>A creditable career he could never have. A life of indolent luxury, +environed by the ordinary excitements of club life, would be the +probable limit of his achievements.</p> + +<p>His domestic life would, in time, become a monotonous restraint.</p> + +<p>In dismissing him, I will always believe that he thought often during +the years of his aimless existence of Mariposilla. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> beautiful dark +eyes, flooded with adoring love, must have haunted many of the +indifferent hours spent with his highly refined, philosophical wife.</p> + +<p>After the first cool understanding, when both the man and the woman +acknowledged the disappointment that each felt in the other, their lives +would run on quietly and indifferently, each moved by separate interests +that enormous wealth made possible.</p> + +<p>Their elegant home I can readily picture. Artistic rooms, undisturbed by +little meddlers. Silent halls, in which echoed no voices of children.</p> + +<p>Dark shades, often drawn close before the windows of a mansion deserted +for months at a time, by reason of the protracted absence of both +mistress and master, who seldom traveled in the same direction, finding, +as the years made plainer the remoteness of their tastes and principles, +that antipodal distances alone could insure for each a comparative +comfort.</p> + +<p>I learned from authority that Mrs. Sanderson escaped old age.</p> + +<p>On the verge of the dreaded boundaries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> of infirmity her selfish +energies gave way. An unexpected puff of disappointment chilled her +nerve, while it extinguished, midway in its socket, the brilliant candle +that had cheered no lonely heart, had illuminated no sorrowing soul.</p> + +<p>For Mariposilla alone the announcement of Sidney's marriage contained +crushing evidences of his final desertion. The poor child had always +believed that her lover would return. We had never been able to convince +her of the hopelessness of the dream.</p> + +<p>Now that the blow had at last descended, we hoped for much.</p> + +<p>Through all the long weeks we had done nothing but wait. Even now we +must wait still longer. We dared not show impatience at the child's +terrible grief, when she remained as one stunned, refusing, day after +day, our sympathy and society.</p> + +<p>It was only in the cool of the evening that she left her room to join +the family upon the veranda. Then she would slip away by herself, hiding +in the darkest corner among the vines, a listless shadow in white that +we dared neither to comfort nor to rebuke.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p>The summer was now at its height; the days were warmer and the cool +nights more welcome. The haze had thickened about the mountains; the sky +was often without a cloud.</p> + +<p>The seaside resorts were crowded with pleasure-seekers. Only the +industrious ones of the Valley remained at home to attend to the immense +fruit crops, ripening every hour.</p> + +<p>The hotels and villas were undergoing repairs for the ensuing winter. +Society, in a body, appeared to be rusticating at Santa Catalina.</p> + +<p>We, too, would have gone to the sea, but sorrow held us down with a +relentless grip. The once happy household of the Doña Maria Del Valle +was no longer the abode of peace and joy.</p> + +<p>Each day Mariposilla required more care, for she was now really ill. She +went about the house and garden as usual, but we had thus far failed to +arouse her from her grief. Each day she grew more silent and suspicious, +shedding fewer tears, but refusing always to listen to a word of +reproach against the man who had deceived her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>Now, in addition to the anxiety for her miserable child, another stroke +had fallen upon the Doña Maria.</p> + +<p>The angel of death had entered again her home—her aged mother was +dying. Father Ramirez had administered the Holy Sacrament, and now only +the most powerful opiates could relieve, temporarily, the aged sufferer, +sinking away from a horrible disease that for years had been +unsuspected.</p> + +<p>To myself fell the incessant care of Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>It was seldom now that the sad-eyed Doña Maria left her mother's +chamber. She had procured a Mexican woman to superintend the household, +while she devoted herself, lovingly and unceasingly, to the care of the +sufferer. Day and night she watched alone, until I feared she would drop +under the strain.</p> + +<p>It was astonishing how tenaciously the aged woman lingered. Sometimes +she would revive, with almost supernatural strength. Stimulated by the +opiates, she would protest desperately against remaining in bed. The +poor old creature seemed to think that the bed alone was responsible for +her death.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>In her less painful moments, when the opiates soothed without +stupefying, she talked excitedly in Spanish, living always far back in +the days of her prosperity.</p> + +<p>She was again on the far-reaching rancho, riding by the side of her +husband, or dispensing free hospitality to a house full of guests. +Always with her were the two little daughters, Maria and Lola.</p> + +<p>"She remembers not the sorrows which have befallen us," the Doña Maria +would say with tearful eyes, that each day grew larger as the rings of +sorrow deepened beneath them. "She mercifully believes that my dear +sister and I are still little ones at home.</p> + +<p>"We are continually running from her side with messages for the maids.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes she commanded us to stop our play and go to the old church +for prayers. Again, she coaxes our father to buy more jewels, that we +may outshine in beauty our neighbors at the grand wedding, soon to occur +upon a distant rancho, where there will be for days feasting and great +joy.</p> + +<p>"Is it not kind, dear Señora, that the old mother should depart among +pleasant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> memories, knowing not of my poor child's humiliation?"</p> + +<p>As the Doña Maria spoke, the glory of unselfishness lit for a moment +with saintly beauty her dark, worn face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear friend," I replied, "it is kind and sweet that the loved one +can go to rest in peace, but it is wrong for you to refuse relief from +the heavy strain of the sick-chamber. Oblige me this once by allowing +your place to be filled. You will be ill, I am sure, if you take neither +air nor rest."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, dear Señora," she replied, "I am happy for your thoughtful +care; but I can now no longer take rest away from my mother. Sometimes I +fall, for a few moments, asleep by her side, but I wish always to be +near, that I may watch tenderly until her spirit has flown.</p> + +<p>"I should grieve sorely if another closed forever the dear eyes."</p> + +<p>I saw that the devoted daughter was happiest performing alone the last +few duties that after death grow measurelessly sweet, and said no more. +A few hours later the Doña Maria stood at my door quiet and tearless.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>"Dear Señora," she said, "my mother is dead."</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" I cried, daring not yet to presume with sympathy. Under +the first cold shock of the impalpable mystery, I longed for a task that +would check the dreadful, unsatisfied questions that thronged my mind.</p> + +<p>"There is little to do. Arturo had gone for Father Ramirez.</p> + +<p>"If only the Señora will speak to my unhappy child, I shall be most +thankful. Tell her that her grandmother is no more, but restrain her +from coming for a time into the chamber of death.</p> + +<p>"Soon I shall have done all. I shall then come for my child and lead her +to the dear one."</p> + +<p>As the Doña Maria finished speaking, she vanished from my side.</p> + +<p>As I heard her close the door of her mother's room, I knew that she +would first pray before the shrine of the little Virgin.</p> + +<p>For a moment I listened in the silence, almost longing myself to entreat +comfort of the image.</p> + +<p>I remembered how I had fainted Christmas morning, and how gladly I had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>regained consciousness in the protecting presence of the little Mother. +I knew that the Doña Maria would gain strength and courage before the +shrine of her implicit faith, and my own heart hungered for a touch of +palpable comfort.</p> + +<p>What if the little image was only painted wood? It whispered something +to the simple, aching heart that a stern theology could never say.</p> + +<p>Alas! I knew that for myself there was nothing but blind hope and +fruitless speculation. I could never have knelt before a picture or a +shrine, but I envied, none the less, the Spanish woman who found peace +and comfort, while I so often suffered in the dark, unsatisfied and +rebellious.</p> + +<p>When at last I heard quiet steps, I knew that the Doña Maria had arisen +from her prayers. I knew that in her sorrowing heart there was a blessed +faith, childlike and strong, that would help her to perform, quietly and +correctly, the last sad offices for her dead.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII.</span></h2> + +<p>I sought in vain about the house and garden for Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>The child had not been away from the ranch since the news of Sidney's +marriage, and her sudden absence alarmed me.</p> + +<p>I remembered that it was Saturday. Perhaps Mariposilla had gone to the +old church for confession. Arturo had the pony, and for a moment I was +in despair.</p> + +<p>Fortunately a neighbor arrived with a horse and buggy, which I borrowed.</p> + +<p>I was determined not to alarm the Doña Maria, and drove away at once in +the direction of the Old Mission. The road, for the first time, seemed +long and uninteresting. The neighbor's horse was an ancient nag, who +discovered at once my impatience and inexperience. He absolutely refused +to accelerate his midsummer dog-trot. The persuasions of a stranger he +ignored.</p> + +<p>Despairing, I submitted, while I vaguely questioned myself as to what I +should do,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> in case Mariposilla had not gone to the church.</p> + +<p>When at last I caught sight of the long, gray outline, hiding among +cool, green peppers, my heart seemed to stand still.</p> + +<p>As I turned into the main approach leading to the Mission, the old bells +broke suddenly the oppressive silence. Their melancholy strokes were for +the dead; perhaps for the Doña Maria's mother, I thought.</p> + +<p>Mechanically I counted the tolls, until their number had reached +sixteen, then the old bells paused a moment before they again repeated +the years of the youthful dead.</p> + +<p>Upon approaching nearer I perceived that a funeral procession had just +left the church. An assistant priest and a barefooted Mexican altar-boy +stood framed in the arch of the ancient portal.</p> + +<p>The sad little procession was now entering the old graveyard at the rear +of the Mission. I could hear the sobs of the mourners, and my heart went +out to the poor mother, garbed in faded mourning, bowed with both grief +and labor.</p> + +<p>The little coffin was borne on a bier by six swarthy young Mexicans, +possibly one of them the lover of the dead girl.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>The sight was pathetic, and at this particular time I felt it to be +more than I could bear.</p> + +<p>A moment later I peered into the old church—it was empty.</p> + +<p>Where now could I go? To whom should I apply for help?</p> + +<p>Father Ramirez was evidently not about; a strange priest had followed +the funeral procession, and doubtless the old friend of the Del Valles +had gone at once with Arturo.</p> + +<p>I had probably missed passing them by taking a different road, having +endeavored to shorten the distance by a cut through a ranch.</p> + +<p>Mechanically I climbed into the buggy, believing that there was no +course left but to return home for assistance, when in the distance I +saw, almost like a sign from on high, the deserted hotel of East San +Gabriel.</p> + +<p>Without stopping to consider the probable absurdity of my surmise, I +started the old horse upon the maddest race of his life.</p> + +<p>In my excitement the wielding of the whip was a nervous joy.</p> + +<p>The old bones of the beast seemed almost to crack as he leaped along the +road.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p><p>All at once I seemed to be acting without reason, for when I at last +entered the grounds of the deserted caravansary, there were no evidences +to justify my suspicions.</p> + +<p>The summer's silence was intense; not a human being was visible, and the +desolation pervading the deserted resort was sickening as well as +satisfying.</p> + +<p>I felt that I had been absurd to believe for a moment that Mariposilla +could have wished to reënter the place, and I was also convinced that, +in her feeble condition, she could never have walked the distance from +the ranch.</p> + +<p>The old horse was now resting in front of the silent hotel, and my very +inaction was unbearable. I racked my brain to the verge of despair, +before I again hit upon a possible explanation for Mariposilla's +disappearance.</p> + +<p>Why had I not thought of it before? Why had I taken it for granted that +Arturo had gone alone for Father Ramirez? The priest drove always in his +own conveyance, and what could be more natural than to believe that +Arturo had induced Mariposilla to accompany him upon his errand? Was it +not reasonable to believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> that the young people had laid aside their +personal feelings at such a time, desiring to perform together a last, +trifling duty to the dead grandmother?</p> + +<p>True to the comforting inspiration, I had turned the reluctant horse to +leave the grounds, when, rushing joyfully in front of the astonished +brute, I beheld the hounds, Mariposilla's grayhounds, who knew where +their little mistress was hiding.</p> + +<p>Hastily hitching the horse to the nearest tree I reconnoitered at once +the long veranda. Each door that I tried was locked; the windows were +fastened, and the inside blinds closed.</p> + +<p>Close at my heels followed the dogs, now wildly excited.</p> + +<p>As a last resort, I decided to urge them to lead me.</p> + +<p>"Dear Pachita! dear Pancho!" I cried, patting encouragingly their long, +beautiful heads, while I entreated their almost human eyes to reply. +"Take me to Mariposilla."</p> + +<p>"Where is Mariposilla?" I repeated, slowly, "your dear little mistress, +Mariposilla?"</p> + +<p>For a moment, the poor brutes whined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> piteously; the next, they had +darted away to the rear of the hotel.</p> + +<p>I followed hotly, and at the corner of the house I perceived them wild +with excitement at the foot of the escape ladder, leading from the +ground to the upper veranda.</p> + +<p>I needed no more to convince me of the truth.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla had ascended the ladder which the dogs had not been able to +scale. The half-frantic girl had sought to enter again the rooms once +occupied by the Sandersons.</p> + +<p>I delayed no longer. In a moment I was above, trying in vain the doors. +As I approached the window of Sidney's now deserted bedroom, I perceived +instantly that its glass had been shattered, and knew at once that +Mariposilla was within.</p> + +<p>For a moment, I stood rooted with apprehension; I dared not enter. A +horrible dread deprived me of strength, until from within a piteous +sobbing, more musical, more welcome than any sounds which I had ever +before heard, told me that the child I sought was safe.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" I cried, springing into the room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p><p>There, upon Sidney's deserted bed, upon his pillow, lay Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>For a moment I shrank away, for the child had not heard me enter. I +would willingly have allowed her the full extent of her strange, unusual +consolation. Now that she was safe, I would have stayed with her the +remainder of the afternoon, but the thought of the Doña Maria compelled +me to speak.</p> + +<p>"Dear child," I said, approaching the bed; "you must come home. We are +in great distress. Your grandmother has just died."</p> + +<p>"Just died?" she repeated, touchingly. "Why can I, too, not die? Indeed, +kind Señora, I am most tired of life; I would gladly go with my +grandmother."</p> + +<p>"No, dear," I answered, "you must not want to die. It is wrong for you +to remain so miserable. You should remember your dear mother, and try to +recover your spirits, to be once more our good, happy child.</p> + +<p>"Think no more of Sidney; dismiss now forever from your thoughts the +selfish man who has deceived you."</p> + +<p>Like a young tigress wounded into fury, the girl sprang from the bed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>"I blame him not," she cried, passionately. "It is the wicked, wicked +Gladys who has stolen his love. I knew she would coax him from me when +she sent so often her beautiful face to his mother.</p> + +<p>"She loved him much, I was sure, but he said always that he loved her +not in return; that she made him most tired, when he must listen to her +learning and long words.</p> + +<p>"That he loved none but me—poor, little Mariposilla, who knew nothing +but to love him only."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," I said; "you have loved as few ever love. I pity the man +who has thrown lightly away your warm, true heart; but I know that after +a time you will cease to pine. You will see that Sidney gave you up, not +because Miss Carpenter was more beautiful, or that he loved her more, +but because she had millions of dollars to make his life luxurious and +idle.</p> + +<p>"Be a brave girl," I continued, noticing with pleasure that the child +had brightened visibly at my words. "Be good and brave for your own +sake, and for the sake of the dear Doña Maria.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p><p>"Come home before you are missed, or your mother will be greatly +distressed by your absence."</p> + +<p>Obediently she followed me from the room, and down the ladder. As we +drove away from the grounds she threw her arms about my neck and sobbed +pitifully.</p> + +<p>"Dear, kind Señora," she cried, "I will be good; indeed I will be good.</p> + +<p>"If Sidney loves Gladys only for gold, he will yet come back! he will +yet be mine!"</p> + +<p>It was impossible for me to misunderstand the girl's passionate meaning. +I trembled at the recollection of the opportunities and temptations of +the winter. For the first time a terrible realization of the child's +Spanish inheritances seized me. I felt that she would never acknowledge +moral barriers to be a final restraint to her denied destiny; never be +able to resist the undisciplined desires of her heart.</p> + +<p>For the present I could not hope to unfold the immoral, or impossible +consequences of Sidney Sanderson's return. Nothing but time and angelic +patience would enable me to make plain to the ignorant girl the +arbitrary laws of fate.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII.</span></h2> + +<p>The sun had departed for the day, the evening had flushed and died in +the cool arms of night.</p> + +<p>In the chamber of death there was now the breathless calm which follows +when all has been done.</p> + +<p>Before the little Virgin, and about the spotless bed, where in purest +linen slept the mother of the Doña Maria, holy candles had been lighted. +Still unmolested stood the small stand covered with a fine drawn linen +cover, upon which had rested for weeks the tumblers and bottles needed +now no longer.</p> + +<p>"See," the Doña Maria said tenderly, "see the spoon in the potion I had +prepared but a moment before the poor suffering body found peace."</p> + +<p>When I offered to remove the medicines, the devoted daughter was not +willing.</p> + +<p>"Touch not the table yet, kind Señora," she pleaded. "Wait until the +dear body has been taken away; then will I find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> courage to disturb the +tumblers that the dear hands once held."</p> + +<p>As the Doña Maria spoke, Mariposilla entered the room, bearing a little +cross of white roses. She laid it timidly upon the breast of her +grandmother; then, frightened and hysterical, she fled from the bed.</p> + +<p>"Poor child," said the Doña Maria, "she fears death greatly. She thinks +only of the fire that must at first purify the soul, not of the joys of +eternity.</p> + +<p>"Go now, Señora, retire at once for the night. You are weary and in need +of rest.</p> + +<p>"I care not for company. I will remain alone with my mother and our +blessed Lady. I desire to entreat that the sufferings of the dear one +may be short.</p> + +<p>"Surely the dear Lord will have mercy upon the aged one who has already +endured so much upon earth."</p> + +<p>"Good Doña Maria," I plead, "you will surely be ill if you kneel all +night in prayer. To-morrow will be a sad, hard day, and without rest you +will be unfit for its strain."</p> + +<p>"No, Señora," she replied firmly; "I shall not be ill. After midnight I +shall sleep; until then I shall pray."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>I saw that my persuasions were in vain, and left her alone with her +dead.</p> + +<p>As I passed through the living-room to reach my own, I was startled by a +white-robed figure in front of the Virgin's picture.</p> + +<p>The full July moon, streaming through the open door, discovered +touchingly the hopeless misery of Mariposilla. She was in her nightgown, +gazing piteously into the illuminated face of the unsympathetic doll +above the chimney shelf.</p> + +<p>As I approached her, she turned sadly from the picture.</p> + +<p>In the moonlight, I saw great tears shining in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"She loves me not; she is angry and smiles no more," she said, +despairingly.</p> + +<p>The child's lovely face expressed so perfectly the agony of desertion +that I felt powerless to comfort her. Her firm belief in the Virgin's +displeasure had torn from her heart its last hope. For weeks she +believed that the little mother would have mercy, would intercede for +her, and restore in some miraculous way her lover; but to-night the +Virgin would not smile. She refused to pity her sorrowful child.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mariposilla," I said, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>remembering the tactics that I sometimes +employed with Marjorie; "you must not think because the Virgin refuses +to smile that she is angry.</p> + +<p>"We ourselves cannot smile. We are sad and awed by the presence of +death, and surely it would be heartless for 'our Lady' to smile, when +those who love and trust her are in trouble.</p> + +<p>"You are nervous and weary. You shall room with me to-night. I have +already prepared you a nice bed upon my couch."</p> + +<p>I drew her gently in the direction of my room, persuaded that I had +quieted for a time her moody fears.</p> + +<p>"No! no!" she cried, bursting away from me; "I can not sleep. I will +never sleep again."</p> + +<p>She rushed, passionately, through the open door into the moonlight. In +her bare feet, clad only in her flowing nightgown, she stood like a +spirit among the dark vines and lacy shadows of the old veranda.</p> + +<p>Her hair fell about her shoulders like a tragic veil, while a sudden +agony touched her young, white face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>"You know not what I have suffered," she sobbed. "You think I shall +forget, but I never shall. I can not bear that he should not be mine."</p> + +<p>"If only he had gone away like my grandmother, I could endure never to +see him again. He would then be mine! all mine, and I could go joyfully +into a convent and pray always for his soul."</p> + +<p>Her voice had grown tearless and sharp.</p> + +<p>From the corner of the house a tall, dark form was approaching.</p> + +<p>"Come in quickly," I whispered; "Arturo is listening."</p> + +<p>She obeyed me now, sinking wearily, as we entered my room, upon the +waiting couch.</p> + +<p>I was devoutly thankful when I believed her to be sleeping.</p> + +<p>She had scarcely stirred for nearly an hour, and I told myself, wearily, +that I, too, might perhaps catch a little rest. The day had been a +perpetual strain. I was not expecting or intending to sleep soundly, but +I felt a merciful relief in lying quietly by the side of Marjorie.</p> + +<p>For the night, at least, Mariposilla was safe. I could only hope that +the morrow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> would dawn more tranquilly than the trying day now, at last, +over.</p> + +<p>After the funeral, I intended to go immediately to Catalina with +Marjorie and Mariposilla. I would wait no longer; the heartbroken child +must leave San Gabriel at once.</p> + +<p>I was arranging my plans most carefully, when I fell asleep from +absolute exhaustion.</p> + +<p>When I awoke, the moon was no longer casting fantastic shadows. My white +walls were no longer softened by elfin touches.</p> + +<p>The shadow vines and pepper branches had disappeared in the honest light +of the July sun.</p> + +<p>The morning was yet deliciously cool, but the day was fairly begun, even +now brimful of sweet odors and bird-music.</p> + +<p>The mockers, who had sung all night, were not yet weary, but less +belligerent. At night they sometimes quarreled, but in the morning their +little disagreements were adjusted.</p> + +<p>As I delayed to open my eyes, half awake, but unwilling to shock too +soon the last lingering desire to doze, I seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> hear a familiar +rebuke from the great pepper tree beyond my window.</p> + +<p>"Señora! Señora! Señora!" called an old mocker. "Get up! get up! get +up!" screamed his neighbor from the next limb.</p> + +<p>I fancied now as I listened, that the birds had tried to awaken me in +the night. Vaguely returned an ugly dream, with the ceaseless call of +the persistent birds.</p> + +<p>In a moment I remembered all. The dead grandmother, Mariposilla, the +midnight cry of the mockers—"Señora! Señora! Señora!"</p> + +<p>Mariposilla?</p> + +<p>Where was she? When had she slipped away? Did the birds alone know?</p> + +<p>The couch was empty. Each pillow bore the mark of the child's weary +head.</p> + +<p>In the night, while I slept, my restless captive had fled.</p> + +<p>I sprang across the hall to her room; it was empty, and the bed +undisturbed. Trembling I entered the death chamber. The Doña Maria was +alone; her child was not with her.</p> + +<p>The good woman was again before the shrine of the Virgin, repeating a +last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> prayer for her dead, preparatory to the painful duties of the +morning.</p> + +<p>The front window shades were closely drawn to exclude the morning sun, +but looking north, to the great, quiet mountains, an open window invited +the cool breath of the day.</p> + +<p>Without understanding my motives, I took a hasty survey of the silent +room. To all appearances everything was as usual.</p> + +<p>A sheet had been drawn over the face of the dead, and the holy candles +were burning low and pale.</p> + +<p>Mariposilla's little cross of white roses was still fresh where the +child had placed it, the table of medicines undisturbed except the +tumbler containing the unused opiate.</p> + +<p>Horrible discovery!</p> + +<p>The poisonous glass was gone, and the dark, innocent-looking bottle that +remained was empty.</p> + +<p>How could I grasp the frightful suspicion? How believe that the Virgin +had forgotten her child? How bear the burden of my own selfish slumbers?</p> + +<p>Why in the night had I not understood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> the mocking-birds when they +called in vain, "Señora! Señora! Señora?"</p> + +<p class="center">* * * * *</p> + +<p>A few moments later Arturo bore in his arms from the arbor the lifeless +body of Mariposilla.</p> + +<p>From her beautiful face the color had faded forever.</p> + +<p>We laid her upon her own bed, still robed in the little nightgown, for +the long sleep that had closed at last the wakeful eyes.</p> + +<p>Poor foolish, beautiful little Butterfly, her summer was now forever +ended.</p> + +<p>As I performed for the dead girl the last few loving labors, I acquitted +her in my inmost heart of her terrible crime. She had meant only to +rest, to forget for a time in sleep the anguish of her cruel +disappointment.</p> + +<p>When from between the great century plants, the yellow edges of their +spears shining like avenging swords, passed the hearses—the black one +bearing the aged Spanish woman, the white one bearing Mariposilla—I +remembered the tragic blooming of the Gold of Ophir rose.</p> + +<p>I saw again the old veranda illuminated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> with Easter glory. I saw timid +buds open to full roses. Scintillating in the spring sunshine, more +lustrous than all, I saw a child-bud burst into a maiden flower. I saw +its petals deepen with the kisses of the sun; then I saw them pale and +fall to the ground; for the sun had hidden his face.</p> + +<p>I saw the great-hearted Doña Maria bending wearily, as she attempted to +gather the scattered petals. I saw the dark Arturo kneel beside her.</p> + +<p>Together they seemed to pray; but in the heart of the man was born a +horrible curse for those two, now far away.</p> + +<p>In my misery I saw the Demon of Selfishness, blacker than night, blacker +than death.</p> + +<p>I tried to pray—but I could only weep.</p> + +<p class="tbrk"> </p> + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mariposilla, by Mary Stewart Daggett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARIPOSILLA *** + +***** This file should be named 39709-h.htm or 39709-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/0/39709/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Martin Pettit and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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