"Nonsense! Mr. Ajax."
"He is set on matrimony. You are the one woman in the world for him. Take him, Gloriana; and then we'll all live together for ever and ever."
"Mr. Ajax, you'd sooner joke than eat."
"I'm not joking now. Uncle Jake is an honest man, with money laid by. He would make you comfortable for life, and such a marriage might pave the way to--to a better understanding with Doctor Standish."
Her face flushed at these last words, and fire flooded her eyes. Looking at her, I realised that long ago this worn woman must have been a beautiful girl.
"No," she answered steadily. "I wouldn't say Yes to the Angel Gabriel. Uncle Jake and I would make a baulky team. He's obstinate as my old mule, an' so am I. An' there's another thing: I'm most petered out, an' need a rest. Mattermony ain't rest."
My brother had tact enough to change the subject.
Descending the San Lorenzo grade, a sharp incline, Gloriana called our attention to a view panoramic and matchless beneath the glamour of sunset. Below us lay the mission town, its crude buildings aglow with rosy light; to the left was the cañon, a frowning wilderness of manzanita, cactus and chaparral; to the right towered the triune peak of the Bishop, purple against an amber sky; in the distance were the shimmering waters of the Pacific. Upon the face of the landscape brooded infinite peace, and the soft shadows of evening.
"In Californy," said our passenger, "the glorious works o' the Lord air revealed. There's the Bishop: he looks fine to-night. Ye kin see the peak, but the sea fog's crawlin' in, an' shets off the main body o' the mountain. That's wher the fogs air always thickest. An' that's wher I lost my way, Mr. Ajax. Yes, sir, my feet stumbled on the dark mountain, as the prophet says, but I clumb the stony places, an' now, on the top, its clear."
"Gloriana," said Ajax, after a pause, "will you allow my brother, who is a grave and learned signor, to plead your cause with Doctor Standish? I know what lies nearest your heart."