“You can refund me the price of one hundred and sixty acres, father, if you are too proud to accept that from me, which is little enough, considering your generosity to me all my life. The other two claims, you know, you said would be one for Retty and the other for myself. This house and the orchards are all on your claim.”
“I have taken a dislike to the whole thing,” said he, waiving his hand, as if to shift the position of the land in question. “You can have it all, together with the Alameda farm. There are other lands in California.”
Mrs. Darrell and Clarence looked at each other. The case seemed hopeless. All were silent.
Mr. Darrell continued: “All I want before I leave here is to give your greaser father-in-law a sound thrashing and another to that puppy, Gabriel, who is so airy and proud, and such an exquisite, that it will be delightful to spoil his beauty.”
“But why should you wish to do that? What has Don Mariano done to you? and if Don Gabriel threw his lazo on you, it was to protect his father.”
“What has the old greaser done? He inveigled you into that land business, and you together have made me ridiculous. That is what the matter is.”
“Then you don't believe me?” Mrs. Darrell said.
“Don't you take so much credit to yourself, and throw yourself into the breach like a heroine. If the Don hadn't had that pretty daughter, Clarence would not have been so obedient to his mother, perhaps.”
Clarence rose to his feet, very pale, but he sat down again, and controlling himself, said as calmly as possible:
“I had never seen one, not one of Don Mariano's daughters when I went to offer to pay for this land.”