A Little Girl in Old San Francisco

  CHAPTER XIII

  BALDER THE BEAUTIFUL

  They were planning at the school for a May Celebration. They would goclear up the bay in a boat to San Pablo, and have a picnic and a danceout of doors, and come home in the moonlight.

  So it was a little late, and Bruno stood watching out for her. "Goodold fellow!" she said, with a pat. Miss Holmes had a visitor, she sawthrough the open window. She went round by the kitchen.

  Bruno tugged at her skirt.

  "What is it, Bruno?"

  His eyes had a sorrowful look, she thought. "What is it, what do youwant?"

  He tugged again at her skirt.

  "Well, come on. Though I've stacks of lessons to learn. Look at allthose books."

  She dropped them on the step, and followed the dog. Up the windingpath, and now there was water enough for a musical trickle over thestones.

  There was Balder's basin, where he was so fond of disporting himselfafter the rains filled it up. Oh, what was that lying on the side,that still white thing glistening in the sunshine!

  "Bruno?" She stamped her foot and looked upbraidingly at him. Had hebeen playing roughly with her pet? Oh, what was the meaning of theseblood-stained feathers about his neck! She flung herself down besidehim. The eyes were dull and partly closed. She stroked the whitefeathers with tender hands.

  "Bruno, I shall never love you again, never! Oh, how could you!"

  He took a few steps away. Then he dragged some tumbled gray thing toher feet. Why, that was a fox, with his bushy tail. They had beenhunted a good deal and were giving civilization a rather wide berth.

  She looked at the dog, who told the story with his eyes as he glancedfrom one to the other. She reached up and put her arms about his neck.

  "Oh, Bruno, I'm sorry I blamed you. I thought perhaps you were alittle rough, but you cared so for my beautiful Balder that I mighthave known you couldn't hurt him! And that wicked, wretched fox! Well,I am glad he has his deserts. But that will not bring back my dearBalder. Oh, have you gone to join the old heroes in Valhalla? For Ican't think you were just a common bird. You would have gone back toyour kind if you had been. I ought to write a lament for you."

  Pablo was coming up the road with a back load of brush. But he droppedit in dismay as she called.

  Bruno pawed the fox, then gave it a push, and glanced up at Pablo.

  "You see--the fox must have crept up here, and seized my dear Balderby the neck and killed him. And Bruno made him pay for it."

  When Pablo was deeply moved or amazed, he went back to his Mexicanpatois, that Bruno had come to understand very well, and noddedsagaciously.

  "The thief! The murderer! Last year, you know, your uncle and I shottwo of the bloody thieves over the ridge there, and I've not seen onesince. Bruno seized him by the throat, and has torn him well. Look atthe brush--why, a lady could put it on her tippet. And the skin--I'llhave that. We'll throw him out to feed the hawks. Oh, the poor gull!He was like folks, Missy, you had all trained him so much. Oh, don'tcry so, Missy."

  Bruno came up and rubbed her shoulder, licked her hand, and gave alow, mournful lament of sympathy.

  Laverne rose and took the dead bird in her arms. The visitor had gone,and Miss Holmes stood out by the door, wondering. The procession tooktheir way thither.

  "The mean, sneaking brute, that he should have come just when I hadgone. The bird was so fond of paddling round there. Strange that henever wanted to go with his kind, but most things want to keep by you,Missy."

  They told the sad story over. Laverne laid the gull down tenderly on abit of matting.

  "Pablo, will you wash his neck and have him all clean and white?"

  "My dear," Miss Holmes said, and clasped the child in her arms,letting her cry out her sorrow. She and Bruno went down to meet UncleJason presently. No grief, hardly a disappointment, had come near heruntil now. How could he comfort his darling? And he felt with Pablothat the bird had been almost human.

  "I wonder," he said in the evening, "if you would like to have himmounted. There's an old Frenchman down in Rincon Street who does thisto perfection. The birds look alive."

  Laverne considered. "No, I believe I would rather have him buried. Ishould think how the sly fox crept up and dragged him out before hecould turn to defend himself. We will put him in a box and bury him.Oh, Balder, I shall miss you so much."

  "I think I could capture one easily."

  "To be sure you could. They're stupid things," subjoined Pablo.

  "But he wasn't. Uncle Jason, I think some wicked fairy changed himfrom something else, for he used to look at times as if he had a storyin his eyes. No, I don't want another. And I should always be afraidof a fox."

  He snuggled her up with his arm close about her. So they sat until thestars came out, twinkling like live spirits in the cloudless blue. Itwas warm, with all manner of odors in the air, and the hum of thecity, lying below them, came up faintly. Oh, how he loved her. And heprayed there might never come any deeper sorrow to touch her tenderheart.

  Pablo dug a grave the next morning, and they buried Balder thebeautiful. All day she dreamed of the Norse gods, and of Hermod, whotook the journey to the barred gates of Hell, at Frigga's earnestpersuasion, and how every rock, and tree and all living things weptfor him, except one old hag, sitting in the mouth of a cavern, whorefused because she hated him, and so Balder could not return. She wasa little absent, and missed two or three questions, and Miss Bainasked her if her head ached, she made such an effort to keep the tearsfrom her eyes.

  So Balder slept under a straight young pine near the little lake theyhad made for him. Pablo skinned the fox with great zest, and made ofit a fine rug, with a strip of black bearskin for a border.

  She wondered whether she ought to feel merry enough to go on the Mayparty. But the children insisted. The boat was a fine strong one, andthere really was no danger; Uncle Jason was assured of that. Then itwas such a glorious day. There was a fog early in the morning, and thefight between the golden arrows of the sun and the gray armor thatcame up out of the sea. Sometimes it did conquer, and came over thecity, but this morning it was pierced here and there, and then torn totatters, driven out beyond the strait, into the ocean.

  Miss Bain took supervision of her scholars, and Miss Holmes had manycharges not to let the little girl out of her sight a moment. Therewere a number of schools, but some of the children preferred the Maywalk, and the treat afterward. They started off with flags flying, andthe young Geary Band had volunteered their services. There were adrum, two fifes, a cornet, and a French horn, and the boys began withthe stirring patriotic tunes. But even here the old negro melodies hadfound their way, many of them pathetic reminders of the cotton fieldsof the South, that seemed to gain melody from the stretch of bay.

  They passed Fort Point and Alcatraz Island, where the government wasbeginning magnificent defences, its high point looming up grandly.Angel Island, then almost covered with a forest of oak, yet oddlyenough containing a fine quarry, where laborers were at work, hewinginto the rock, almost under the shadow of the waving trees. YerbaBuena, with its fragrant odors blown about by the wind, smallerislands, big rocks rising out of the sea, the inhabitants beingchiefly birds; vessels of nearly every description, and intent mostlyupon trade, plied hither and thither. Here was another strait openinginto San Pablo Bay, into which emptied creeks and rivers, theSacramento washing down golden sands; and the San Joaquin. And upthere was the wonderful land where the Argonauts were searching fortreasure with less toil and anxiety than the elder Jason, though here,too, there were treachery and murder.

  Almost by the strait there was a beautiful point of land jutting outin the water, and nearly covered with magnificent trees, that hadgrown so close together that the branches interlaced and made arches,while underneath were aisles, carpeted with fallen leaves and moss,that made you feel as if you were walking over velvet. You could seeSan Raphael and San Quentin, and the mountain range with the one highpeak, as you looked westward; eastward there was, after t
he woodland,meadows of richest verdure, with their thousand blooms nodding gaylyto each other, and softly gossiping, perhaps about these strangenewcomers, who were presently to disturb their long, longpossessorship. There the great, grand Sierras, that looked so near inthe marvellously clear air.

  They found a choice spot, and built a fire--it would not have been apicnic without that. There were boys, of course, though a girl wasrestricted to a brother or cousin. I fancy some cousins were smuggledin. They ran about; they were even young enough to play "tag," and"blind man in a ring," and "fox and geese," which was the greatest funof all. Then they spread out their tablecloths on a level space, andthough real paper plates and thin wooden ones had not come in yet,they had made some for themselves that answered the purpose. They weremerry enough with jests and laughter.

  Olive Personette was quite the heroine of the day. Miss Isabel'sengagement to Captain Gilbert, who had been appointed to take somecharge at Alcatraz, and had come of an old Californian family, besidebeing educated at West Point, was still a topic of interest, becausethere had been two other aspirants for her hand who had quarrelled andfought a duel, which was quite an ordinary matter in those days,though frowned upon by the best people. So neither had won her heart.One was lying in the hospital, the other had fled northward. But ithad made quite a stir.

  Of course, she had asked Victor, importuned him, though he had meantall the time to come. He was a fine, manly fellow now, and the girls_did_ flock about him. He had such a grave, courteous manner, andnever descended into rudeness, though he was quick enough at fun, andit does not need an intricate order of wit to amuse before one istwenty.

  Olive picked out the most prominent girls for him, and kept him busyenough. But he managed now and then to pass Laverne and say a word toshow that she was in his mind.

  "I think Isola wanted to come very much," he announced to her once."She's taking such an interest in the pleasures that girls have, andshe has grown stronger. Father is planning some day to take a sail allaround the bay, just a little party of us, and we want you and MissHolmes."

  That was such a delight. She did not refuse to talk to other boys, butshe liked the girls better. Her rather secluded life had not given herso much interest in hunting and fishing and ball-playing andrace-running. Then on Sunday there was always horse-racing up on thetrack by the old Mission. Church-going people, not really members, butthose who considered it the proper thing to pay a decorous attentionto religion, went to church in the morning and drove out in theafternoon. Throngs of fine carriages, and handsomely dressed ladies,men on horseback, with enough of the old-style attire to stamp them asMexican, Spanish, or the more than half Old Californian. Many of themore successful ones began to plume themselves on a sort ofaristocracy.

  The boys knew the favorite horses, some of their fathers owned a fasttrotter. But somehow she did not care much to talk about them, thoughshe had gone out occasionally with Uncle Jason, and it was exciting towitness the trials of speed. But she liked better to jog about onPelajo and talk in the lovely by-paths they were always finding.

  After the repast they swung in hammocks and talked over plans, orrambled about, then the band played for dancing. No gathering wouldhave been perfect without that. Of course, they flirted a little, thatwas in the young blood, but they came home merry, and had not disputedunduly about their respective admirers.

  Victor found time to say that he should come over next Saturday."We'll have a nice time, all to ourselves," he whispered, and sheglanced up with delighted eyes.

  All her life thus far had been very quiet, in spite of the fact thatshe was in such a turbulent place, and with all sorts of people,gathered from the ends of the earth; where seldom a day passed withoutsome tragedy. And it seemed as if the city was coming nearer andnearer, though it went southward, too, and all along the bay, docksand wharves and warehouses were springing up in a night.

  Victor came over the following Saturday as he had promised. They satunder the pine tree and wrote verses to Balder's memory. Victor hadfound a volume of Scandinavian legends and poems, and they werefascinated with it.

  "Of course, we can't write anything like that," she said simply, "butyou notice these do not rhyme. Do you not think it really grander,tenderer?"

  "I heard a voice that cried 'Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead! And through the misty air, Passed like the mournful cry Of sunward sailing cranes.'"

  "You repeat poetry so beautifully," he exclaimed, enchanted with thepathetic voice, that could express so much, yet was so simply sweet.

  They were not born poets. He had great trouble about his Latinhexameters. He could feel it floating through his brain, but it wasvery elusive, vanishing before it was caught. She made a few littlelines without rhyming.

  Then he told her of the other god that had ruled a realm of lovelythoughts, until, as the legend ran, when Christ, the Redeemer ofmankind, was born, a great groan was heard all over the isles ofGreece, the rushes bowed their heads, and the waves shuddered when itwas proclaimed that Olympus was dethroned, and Pan was dead.

  "And that dismal cry rose slowly, And sank slowly through the air, Full of spirit's melancholy And eternity's despair As they heard the words it said-- Pan is dead, great Pan is dead-- Pan, Pan is dead."

  And then, as they listened, the gulls' cry came to them, toned by thedistance, softened by the murmur of the wind into a requiem for thedead Balder.

  After all he did not tell her what he had meant to. He would put offthe evil day.

  Everybody--children, I mean--was anxious about examinations. Very fewreally longed for them, but there was the vacation beyond.

  She had been wandering about one afternoon, Bruno keeping close to herside, though there was little to call strangers up this way. The viewwas finer from the Presidio, and the principal fishing ground wasfarther down below. So, when Bruno gave a growl, she started andglanced about, and saw some one toiling over the rocks with a cane. Avery old woman it seemed, as she leaned upon her stick, and hardlyknew which way to go.

  "Hush, Bruno, hush!" she commanded.

  The figure came nearer. Bruno was not at all pleased with it.

  The rough hair was a grayish white. A flowered handkerchief was tiedover it with a knot that hid the chin. The garments were coarse andfaded, the short skirt of a Mexican woman, and clumsy shoes.

  "It is Laverne Chadsey." Something in the voice connected it with thepast. And now that she straightened herself up, she was quite tall.

  "But I don't know you," Laverne said, rather hesitatingly.

  "Then the disguise must be very good. I am an old--shall I say, oldfriend? We were not very warm friends when I knew you."

  Was it a school friend playing a prank?

  "I am so tired." She dropped down on a stone. "I wanted to see youfirst--I am a little afraid of Miss Holmes." Then she pulled off theheadgear, afterward the gray wig.

  Laverne stood astounded. "It isn't, it surely isn't Carmen Estenega!"

  "Why--yes; you know you saw me last at the Convent."

  "And you were going to be married."

  "Oh, what a blind idiot I was! But it was considered a great thing,and I didn't know how any one might love then. I know now. I have runaway. I would kill myself sooner than marry Pascuel Estenega."

  Laverne drew a long breath. Yes, this really was Carmen. The eyes, themouth, when she talked, but there was a fire in the face that had notbeen there in childhood, and a spirit that half frightened Laverne.

  "I want to see your uncle. I have a note to him, from--from a personhe has confidence in. And I want to tell him my story. I think mentake a different view, of some things, at least I believe he will, andanother person thinks so."

  She blushed as she uttered this.

  "You ran away--from the Convent?"

  "Yes. It was very skilfully planned. They were not quite so strict--Iwas to be married in a month, there in the chapel, and they allowed metime to mysel
f. I had a--a girl devoted to me, who did embroidery andsewing, and she carried notes. Then there was a place in the oldgarden where the railing was broken, but it was hidden by theshrubbery. A girl had seen a snake there, and no one would go near it.We used to meet there when his vessel came in. And it was allplanned."

  "He--who? Not----" and Laverne hardly knew how to put her question.

  "Oh, not Pascuel Estenega. He love a girl!"

  The face seemed to quiver with scornful indignation, and the eyesfairly blazed.

  "He is an American. He is in the employ of your uncle, and he will begood to us both. Perhaps in his youth he knew what love was. We aregoing to trust him. He comes up with the trading vessel on Saturday.He put me on another, the _Lulita_, an old Spanish thing, and I was anold Mexican woman. No one suspected. We came in at noon, and I walkedoff. Gracious! how the world has changed. I had to ask the way; no onepaid any attention to an old woman with a stick, and bent in theshoulders."

  She gave a triumphant laugh.

  "But--your marriage----"

  She seemed to study Laverne from head to foot, and the girl shrank alittle.

  "Holy Mother, what a child you are! Not in long skirts yet! And youknow nothing about love; but you may some day. Not like the heat thatis in the Spanish blood, when it is roused, but many a woman is givenin marriage who knows no more about it than a child. Papa Estenegacame to see me when I had been in the Convent some months. I do notunderstand, but mamacita has some old portraits and archives andjewels, that came from Spain, and we are the last of the two houses.He was very anxious for these, and mamacita had no son. So when shecame they signed a marriage contract. Pascuel had been ill, and thedoctor had taken him away for his health. We went out to the estate.It is a splendid old place. I was very proud then of being chosen asits mistress. Well, perhaps I held my head too lofty. Then I heardthat years before Pascuel had wedded a young girl, and when her babywas born dead, he treated her very bitterly, and one night she threwherself down an old well, though it was said she had gone out of hermind. He came to the convent after a while, and I thought I shouldfaint when I saw him. He was a shrunken-up thing, a good head shorterthan his father. Oh, I do believe I could have married Papa Estenegamore willingly. His eyes were small and cruel, he had a greatmustache, over a hanging lip, and his hair was already turning white.Then I began to place some credence in what one of the girls said, andrepeated it to mamacita. Panchita was sent away from school the nextweek, and no one knew just why. Mamacita would not hear a word, andsaid it was sheer envy; that any girl would be proud of reigningthere, and being the mother of an Estenega heir. And then I saw SenorJose Hudson, the American, and my heart seemed to go out of me atonce. We talked with our eyes, and then he sent me a note. He came tochurch two or three times, but of course we hardly dared look at eachother. He found this broken place, and I used to steal down there. Oh,it was delicious! I told him all the story, and he said we would runaway and that I should be his wife. He had no estate, but he couldmake enough money to take care of me, and that we would go farthernorth, and be, oh, so happy with each other. So I seemed to give in,and fretted mamacita no more, and they began with the trousseau. SenorHudson planned it all, and brought me the wig and the garments. Andone day, just dusk, I slipped out, a lame old woman, and a servanttook me to the boat. He was waiting there, and we had a talk. You see,it would not have been best for me to come on his boat. When he askedme if I had any trusty friend in San Francisco, I spoke of you, and hesaid, 'Oh, that is my master. Jason Chadsey owns the boat. I haveworked for him two years. Go straight to him and he will befriendyou.' So he wrote the letter I have in my hand. I could not seek himin that busy place, where there were crowds of men around, so I foundmy way up here. Juana had written me about it, though I was frightenedat every step. And I found you. I saw you up here with the dog. Youknow in that old time I did not care much for you, we were taught thatthe Americanos were interlopers, and would sweep us out of our homes,drive us, heaven only knew where, but now, because I have found one sosweet and noble and tender, I can see the virtues and graces in youall. And I know you will befriend me."

  She knelt suddenly at Laverne's feet, and snatching her hands, coveredthem with kisses. Isola Savedra sometimes did this. The child wasconfused, helpless.

  "And the Senor Chadsey will be good to me for the sake of SenorHudson. It will be only two days. And will you beseech your Senora tobe kind and pitiful, and to pardon this attire, as if I was a beggar?"

  A bell rang then. It was Miss Holmes' call for a return home, awarning that it was near supper time.

  "Come," Laverne said. She was still bewildered, but led the way. Andthere, turning round the corner, she saw Uncle Jason, so she ranforward with outstretched arms, her light hair flying like a cloud.

  "Well, little one!" smiling fondly.

  "Something so queer has happened." She was out of breath, and flushed,for her heart was beating tremendously. "Carmen Estenega is here andshe is going to marry the man you have talked about, Joseph Hudson."

  "Why, the vessel has not come in, will not be in until Saturday."

  "Yes. She wants to wait here for him. Oh, Uncle Jason, you will begood to her. She has run away from the convent, and it is like a storyfrom a book. Come!"

  Carmencita stood where Laverne had left her. For the first time shebegan to feel frightened. "Oh," she cried, "have pity on me; do notsend me away until Senor Hudson comes, and you will see that my storyis true."

  "What is all this?" He looked from one to the other. Miss Holmes cameout. Then Carmen turned scarlet, remembering her attire.

  "It is--" Miss Holmes looked her over.

  "Carmencita Estenega, who asks shelter for two days, and prays thatyou will not betray her to a cruel life. Oh, like the other poor lady,I should drown myself."

  "You have run away from a convent?"

  "Oh, let me explain!"

  She told the story over again as they stood there, now her voiceathrill with love, now piteous with entreaty. And it did move JasonChadsey's heart. Besides, he had found the young fellow trusty, andliked him, and his note was very straightforward.

  "We will talk more at length about it," he said gravely, "and I daresay supper is ready."