“Because I did you a great wrong. Because I murdered the Don, and he was the best man I ever saw.” When Darrell said this he completely lost his self-control and wept like a child. Clarence wept with him, for he felt deeply Don Mariano's death, but thought he must speak kindly to his father.
“You did not murder him; don't think that,” he said.
“Yes, I did. My wickedness helped the wickedness of others to kill him. And our wickedness combined brought infinite misery upon this innocent family. But a merciful God brought you back, and I know you will devote your life to repair as much as it is possible the wrong your father did. I know you will be a good husband, but for my sake, also, I beg you to be a devoted son to the widowed lady whom I have injured so frightfully. A wrong legislation authorized us squatters, sent us, to the land of these innocent, helpless people to rob them. A wrong legislation killed the Texas Pacific, and such legislation is the main cause of the Don's death. But I, too, helped the wrong-doers.”
“Don't blame yourself so much,” Clarence remonstrated gently, trying to soothe his father. “George and Lizzie told me that all the family believe that the disappointment at the failure of the Texas Pacific was what killed Don Mariano. It preyed upon his mind; it saddened, worried and sickened him until it utterly undermined his health and broke down his nervous system. It did the same with Mr. Mechlin. So, you see, those who defeated the Texas Pacific are to blame for the death of these two most excellent men, but not yourself.”
“Yes, I am. No man can injure his fellow-man, and then shift the blame on some one else's shoulders, because others had a share in the wrong done. Each man must stand and bear his proportion of blame. I could and should have prevented the settlers from destroying the Don's cattle. If I had done so, he would not have been obliged to take them all at once. He could have sent them in small bands, but he was afraid of the murderous rifles of my friends. So the poor, dumb animals perished in the snow. But this was not the worst; the saddest was yet to come. Victoriano lost his health, and the Don lost his life. The good, the best of men, was right when, in his dying moments, he said: ‘The sins of our legislators brought me to this.’ That was a truth uttered by a just and noble soul as it passed away. Still, I must feel I am individually to blame for the sorrow brought upon this family. I know that if the railroad had been built the Don could have recuperated his fortune, but yet my share of wrong-doing stands there all the same; I must bear it myself. If I had not driven you away, you could have prevented their misfortunes. I was a monster. So now I beg and entreat, for my own sake, and as a slight reparation for my cruelty, that you be kind to that lady, as kind as if you were her own child.”
“I will, father; I vow I will.”
“That is enough. I know you'll keep your word. Now, my boy, heaven bless you, and your father's blessing will go with you always. Now, go, and when the ceremony is to be performed, send Willie to call me.”
As everything was ready, the marriage ceremony took place as soon as the priest arrived. Victoriano was brought to the parlor in an arm-chair, and managed to stand up, held by Everett and Webster. Doña Josefa wept all the time and so did her daughters, but everybody understood that memories of the sad past, but no fears for the future, caused those tears to flow.
The parting with her mother and sisters was most painful to Mercedes. Clarence feared she would make herself ill with weeping. He put his arms around her waist and said:
“Don't be disheartened. I have been thinking that Doña Josefa and all the family had better come to San Francisco to live. If she does, I think we can persuade George to bring his family also to reside there.”