Years before, when she was Lizzie Mechlin, she had moved in what was called San Francisco's best society. Her family, being of the very highest in New York, were courted and caressed in exaggerated degree on their arrival in California. Afterwards, for the benefit of Mr. Mechlin's health, they went to reside in San Diego. When Gabriel came to his position in the bank, she was again warmly received by all her society friends. But this cordiality soon vanished. Her family went back to New York, and she and Gabriel returned from San Diego to San Francisco to find that he had lost his place at the bank. Then he endeavored to get something else to do. This was bad enough, but when she tried to help him, then her fashionable friends disappeared. Nay, they avoided her as if she had been guilty of some disgraceful act. The fact that Gabriel was a native Spaniard, she saw plainly, militated against them. If he had been rich, his nationality could have been forgiven, but no one will willingly tolerate a poor native Californian. To see all this was at first painful to Lizzie, but afterwards it began to be amusing and laughable to see people show their mean little souls and their want of brains in their eager chase after the rich, and their discourtesy to an old acquaintance who certainly had done nothing to forfeit respect. About that time the fever for stock gambling was at its height. The Big Bonanza was, in the twinkling of an eye, making and unmaking money princes, and a new set of rich people had rushed into “San Francisco's best society.” The leaders of the ton then, who held title by priority of possession, not forgetting that many of them had had to serve a rigorous novitiate of years of probation before they had been admitted to the high circles, were disposed to be exclusive and keep off social “jumpers.” But the weight of gold carried the day. Down came the jealously guarded gates; the very portals succumbed and crumbled under that heavy pressure. Farewell, exclusiveness! Henceforth, money shall be the sole requisite upon which to base social claims. High culture, talents, good antecedents, accomplishments, all were now the veriest trash. Money, and nothing but money, became the order of the day. Many of the newly created money-nobility lived but a day in their new, their sporadic, evanescent glory, and then, with a tumble of the stocks, went down head-foremost, to rise no more. But some of the luckiest survived, and are yet shining stars. Lizzie saw all this from her humble seclusion. Occasionally, at the houses of those few friends who had remained unchanged in her day of adversity, she met some of the newly arrived in society as well as a few of the fading lights, taking a secondary place. All the new and the old lights she saw, with equal impartiality, shifting their places continually, and she began to think that, after all, this transposing of positions perhaps was right, being the unavoidable outcome in a new country, where naturally the raw material is so abundant, and the chase after social position must be a sort of “go-as-you-please” race among the golden-legged.
Therefore, like the true lady that she was, Lizzie had quietly accepted her fate, and forgiven fickle society, without a murmur of complaint or a pang of regret. But what certainly was a perennial anguish, a crucifixion of spirit to her, was to see in Gabriel's pale face,—in those superb eyes of his,—all his mental suffering; then courage failed her, and on her bended knees she would implore a merciful heaven to pity and help her beloved, her beautiful archangel.
What Gabriel suffered in spirit probably no one will ever know, for though he inherited the natural nobility of his father, he was not like him communicative, ready to offer or receive sympathy. He was sensitive, kind, courteous and unselfish, but very reticent.
But if Gabriel had never complained, the eloquence of facts had said all that was to be said. In that hod full of bricks not only his own sad experience was represented, but the entire history of the native Californians of Spanish descent was epitomized. Yes, Gabriel carrying his hod full of bricks up a steep ladder, was a symbolical representation of his race. The natives, of Spanish origin, having lost all their property, must henceforth be hod-carriers.
Unjust laws despoiled them, but what of this? Poor they are, but who is to care, or investigate the cause of their poverty? The thriving American says that the native Spaniards are lazy and stupid and thriftless, and as the prosperous know it all, and are almost infallible, the fiat has gone forth, and the Spaniards of California are not only despoiled of all their earthly possessions, but must also be bereft of sympathy, because the world says they do not deserve it.
George and Clarence entertained a different opinion, however, and in suppressed, earnest tones they now reviewed the history of the Alamares, and feelingly deplored the cruel legislation that had ruined them.
Lizzie, unable to sleep, had again taken her place by the bedside, and sadly watched the beautiful face which seemed like that of slumbering Apollo. Would he recover, or was it possible that her darling would die, now when relief had come? Oh, the cruel fate that made him descend to that humble occupation.
Lizzie shuddered to think of all the suffering he would yet have to undergo. Oh, it was so inexpressibly sad to think that his precious life was risked for the pitiful wages of a poor hod-carrier!
CHAPTER XXXVII.—Reunited at Last.
The life of Gabriel hung by a very frail thread for several days, and Clarence did not have the heart to leave him. He did not telegraph to Mercedes their arrival, for he would then have been obliged to give a reason for delaying. He wrote her saying that Gabriel had accidentally fallen from a ladder, and not knowing how seriously he might have been hurt, George and himself had decided to remain with Lizzie, who was very much frightened and distressed.