VIII
After that, Magdalena had brain fever. It was a sharp but brief attack,and when she was convalescent the doctor ordered her to go to thecountry at once and let her school-books alone. As Mrs. Yorba never lefther husband for any consideration, Magdalena was sent to Menlo Park withMiss Phelps. The time came when Magdalena hated the monotony of Menlo,with its ceaseless calling and driving, its sameness of days andconversation; but at that age she loved the country in any form.
Menlo Park, originally a large Spanish grant, had long since been cut upinto country places for what may be termed the "Old Families of SanFrancisco." The eight or ten families who owned this haughty precinctwere as exclusive, as conservative, as any group of ancient countyfamilies in Europe. Many of them had been established here for twentyyears, none for less than fifteen. That fact set the seal of gentleblood upon them for all time in the annals of California,--a fact inwhich there is nothing humourous if you look at it logically; there isreally no reason why a new country should not take itself seriously.
Don Roberto owned a square mile known as Fair Oaks, in honour of theancient and magnificent woods upon it. These woods were in threesections, separated by meadows, and there was a broad road through each,but not a twig of the riotous underbrush had been sacrificed to afoot-path. A hundred acres about the house--which was a mile from theentrance to the estate--had been cleared for extensive lawns, ornamentaltrees, and a deer park.
Directly in front of the house, across the driveway and starting from anarrow walk between two great lawns, was a solitary eucalyptus-tree, oneof the few in the State at the time of its planting. It was some twohundred feet high and creaked alarmingly in heavy winds; but DonRoberto, despite Mrs. Yorba's protestations, would not have it uprooted:he had a particular fondness for it because it was so little like thepalms and magnolias of his youth.
To the left of the house at the end of an avenue of cherry-trees was animmense orchard surrounded by an avenue of fig-trees, and Englishwalnut-trees.
The house was as unlike the adobe mansions of the old grandees as wasthe eucalyptus the palms. It was large, square, two-storied, andalthough of wood, of massive appearance. It was, indeed, the mostsolid-looking structure in California at that time. A deep verandahtraversed three sides of the house, its roof making another beneath thebedroom windows. Its pillars were hidden under rose vines and wistaria.The thirty rooms were somewhat superfluous, as Don Roberto would havenone of house-parties, but he could not have breathed in a small house.The rooms were very large and lofty, the floors covered with matting,the furniture light and plain. Above, as from the town house, floatedthe American flag.
Colonel Belmont's estate adjoined Fair Oaks on one side, theMontgomerys' on the other; and the Brannans, Kearneys, Gearys,Washingtons, and Folsoms all spent their summers in that sleepy valleybetween the waters of the San Francisco and the redwood-coveredmountains; these and others who have nothing to do with this tale. HiramPolk had no home in Menlo, excepting in his brother-in-law's house. Someof his wife's happiest memories were of the Rancho de los Pulgas, andshe refused to witness its possession by the hated American. So Polk hadbought her one of the old adobe houses in Santa Barbara, and each yearshe extended the limit of her sojourn in a town where memories werestill sacred.