Padre Francisco is overjoyed. He noted the drawing near of the young hearts. A grateful flash, lighting the shining eyes of Dolores, told the story to Maxime. His defence of her father, his championship of the family cause, his graceful demeanor fill sweet Dolores' idea of the perfect "caballero."
The priest with bell, book, and candle, gives all the honors of the Church to the last lord of Lagunitas. Hard by the chapel, the old ranchero rests surrounded by the sighing forest. It is singing the same unvarying song, breathing incense from the altars of nature over the stout soldier's tomb.
He has fought the fight of his race in vain. When the roses' leaves drift a second time on the velvet turf, Maxime Valois receives the hand of Dolores from her mother. The union is blessed by the invocation of his priestly friend. It is a simple wedding. Bride and groom are all in all to each other. There are none of the Valois, and not a Peralta to join in merrymaking.
Padre Francisco and Donna Juanita are happy in the knowledge that the shy bird of the mountains is mated with the falcon-eyed Creole. He can defend the lordly heritage of Lagunitas. So, in the rosy summer time, the foot of the stranger passes as master over the threshold of the Don's home. The superb domain passes under the dominion of the American. One by one the old holdings of the Californian families pass away. The last of the Dons, sleeping in the silence of the tomb, are spared the bitterness of seeing their quaint race die out. The foreigner is ruling within their gates. Their unfortunate, scattered, and doomed children perish in the attrition of a newer civilization.
Narrow-minded, but hospitable; stately and loyal; indifferent to the future, suspicious of foreigners, they are utterly unable to appreciate progress. They are powerless to develop or guard their domains. Abandoned by Mexico, preyed on by squatters, these courtly old rancheros are now a memory of the past.
This wedding brings life to Lagunitas. The new suzerain organizes a working force. It is the transition period of California. Hundreds of thousands of acres only wait for the magic artesian well to smile in plenty. Valois gathers up the reins. Only a few pensioners remain. The nomadic cavalry of the natives has disappeared. The suggestion of "work" sets them "en route." They drift towards the Mexican border. The flocks and herds are guarded by corps of white attendants. The farm succeeds the ranch.
Maxime Valois gives his wife her first sight of the Queen City. The formalities of receiving the "patent" call him to San Francisco.
Padre Francisco remains with Donna Juanita. The new rule is represented by "Kaintuck," an energetic frontiersman, whose vast experience in occasional warfare and frequent homicide is a guarantee of finally holding possession. This worthy left all his scruples at home in Kentucky, with his proper appellation. He is a veteran ranger.
As yet the lands yield no regular harvests. The ten-leagues-square tract produces less fruit, garden produce, and edibles, than a ten-acre Pennsylvania field in the Wyoming. But the revenue is large from the cattle and horses. The cattle are as wild as deer. The horses are embodiments of assorted "original sin," and as agile as mountain goats. Valois knows, however, the income will be ample for general improvements.
His policy matures. He encourages the settlement of Southerners. He rents in subdivisions his spare lands.