“He said worse—but you had better hear no more.”
“That is awful!” the poor child exclaimed, clasping her hands in eloquent protestation; then adding: “Mamma, I will try to have courage. I don't know what I am to do. But if my father has been so grossly insulted, I must feel for him. I must not be selfish. I don't know what I'll do,” and the unhappy girl pressed her hands to her forehead, as if to keep together her distracted thoughts.
“I think the best thing for you to do is to go to bed. To-morrow your father will see Clarence. That is George's advice, and I think it is good,” said her mother, as she kissed and embraced her, adding: “the sweet, blued-eyed baby is too young to get married, any way, and can well wait four years, and then be only twenty-two years old.” But seeing the blank despair in those expressive eyes, Doña Josefa hastened to add: “I don't say that you will wait that long, but that you are young enough to do so.”
When Mercedes was again alone, she tried to think it was her duty to her father to break her engagement. Her mind utterly refused to see the matter in that light, but as her older sisters had said her engagement ought to be broken off, and her mother spoke of the wedding being postponed, it was clear that she could not be married on the 16th. Would Clarence be willing to wait? and these thoughts revolved around her mind in a circle of coils, worse than the one which so enraged and hurt Darrell.
Madam Halier and Victoriano ate their dinner alone—with Milord for sole company. Poor Tano, though he had laughed heartily at Darrell's plight, was scarcely less distressed than Mercedes, and anxiously looked for Clarence's return.
In the meantime this young gentleman was traveling at the rate of twelve miles per hour, and would have come faster had the road been better. He had been obliged to delay, because Hubert had telegraphed that if he waited two hours he would give him a definite answer about Gabriel's business. The answer came, and it was all that could be desired. Gabriel could go at any time, or wait until the first of October to take his place at the bank. Clarence was delighted to have this good news to carry to Mercedes, with the addition that Fred said that the mines developed richer ores every day. He had an offer of two million dollars for his mines—but both Hubert and Fred advised him not to sell.
With these cheerful thoughts, he was getting into his phæton, when the notary, who had made the entry of Don Mariano's conveyance, came close to him, and said in a low voice, and looking mysteriously around:
“Look here, it may be nothing, but those two fellows are so tricky and slippery that I always imagine they are up to something, and both have been twice to look in my books at the entry of the land conveyance which Señor Alamar made to you. They might mean mischief, though I don't see how.”
“Of whom are you speaking?” Clarence asked.
“Of Roper and Gasbang. Why should they wish to know about that conveyance?”