He has, as a memorial of mother and daughter, a deed of the old home of Philip Hardin. It is given to the Church for a hospital. It is well so. None of the living ever wish to pass again its shadowed portals.
While waiting the time for their departure, the priest and Henry Peyton watch the splendid beauties of Lagunitas, in peaceful brotherhood. The man of war and the servant of peace are drawn towards each other strangely.
The Virginian often gazes on the sword of Maxime Valois, hanging now over the hearthplace he left in his devotion to the Lost Cause. He thanks God that the children of the old blood are in the enjoyment of their birthright.
Padre Francisco, telling his beads, or whiling an hour away with his breviary, begins to nod easily as the lovely summer days deepen in splendor. He is an old man now, yet his heart is touched with the knowledge of God's infinite mercy as he looks over the low wall to where the roses bloom around: the grave of Dolores Valois.
He hopes to live yet to know, that gallant father and patient mother will live over again in the happy faces of the children of their orphaned child.
In the United States of America, at this particular juncture, no happier man than Colonel and State Senator Joseph Woods can be found. His mines are unfailing in their yield; his bachelor bungalow, in its splendor, will extinguish certain ambitious rivals, and he is freed from the nightmare of investigating the tangled web of the mysterious struggle for the millions of Lagunitas. He is confirmed in his resolve to remain a bachelor.
"I have two home camps now, one in Paris and one in California, where I am a sort of a brevet father. I won't be lonely," Joe merrily says.
Joseph's cheery path in life is illuminated by his gorgeous diamonds, and roped in with his massive watch-chains. More precious than the gold and gems is the rough and ready manhood of the old Argonaut. He seriously thinks of eschewing the carrying of weapons, and abandoning social adventures, becoming staid and serene like Father Fran‡ois.
He often consoles himself in his loneliness by the thought that Henry Peyton is also a man without family. "I will capture Peyton when he gets the young people in good shape, and they are tired of Paris style," Joe muses. "He's a man and a brother, and we will spend our old days in peace together."
One haunting, sad regret touches Colonel Joe's heart. He learns of the intention of Natalie to spend her days in retirement and in helping others.