He then said: “I have been your ambassador before this queen, and her majesty has granted your petition. So you have nothing more to do now than to fall on your knees and kiss her hands.”
Whereupon, down went Clarence again on his knees, and seizing her hand, kissed it warmly and repeatedly, in spite of Doña Josefa's protestations, saying:
“That will do. Once is enough—once is enough. Reserve your kisses for younger hands.”
“I'll warrant he has plenty more in reserve,” Don Mariano said, laughing.
And it was true, for Clarence was so happy that he could have kissed the entire Alamar family—all, all—irrespective of age or sex.
The days now passed pleasantly and peacefully enough at the Alamar rancho.
Don Mariano knew that he would have to go through many disagreeable scenes with the squatters when the appeal should be dismissed, but as the law would be on his side finally, he confidently hoped to see the end of his troubles, intending to allow the squatters to keep their homes, provided only that they would fence their crops and pay their own taxes.
Clarence reconciled himself to wait until the fall to take that ring which Mercedes had told him to bring himself. This would be the most judicious plan, as he would thus take the necessary time to have the mines prospected and to decide about their purchase, before going to New York. In the meanwhile he worked in the garden, fenced and prepared ground for planting grapevines and fruit trees. He read and wrote love letters, and passed nearly all of his evenings at the Alamar house, holding Milord, who always came to be held by him as soon as he arrived.
The telegram from Fred Haverly came in due time, a few words only, but how exhilarating they were to Clarence, making his pulse beat high.
It read thus: