Finally, the time for the homeward journey had arrived. The British ship was sailing out of San Francisco harbor, on the afternoon tide.
Lady Romalda and Señor Mendoza were standing on the forward deck, looking out over the vast, restless sea. She was talking rapidly. He spoke little.
The vessel began pitching on the swells that precede the bar.
It was the moment of parting.
They stood, hands clasped. The lady's eyes were streaming. The Administrator's good-by broke in his voice.
A boat was lowered over the side, and Señor Mendoza was rowed to the fort.
The ship gathered headway, crossed the bar, and lost itself in the horizon of the ocean.
CHAPTER XXXII
A WEDDING
Merrily rang the chimes in the old belfry of the Mission church of San José de Guadalupe. "Come! Come! Come! Come, Come!" the call sounded far out into the valley shimmering in the green of springtide.