A Little Girl in Old San Francisco

He came with a purpose beside dancing. A friend had said: "See if Westbury can't do something for you, or put you in a way to help yourself. He has some companies under way that are simply coining money."

"Why, I thought he went to America."

"He did and has been back a year perhaps. Lord Elsden is in one company. It has something to do with quicksilver, and there's a gold mine. You used to be quite cronies."

"Yes, he was a good fellow. He helped me out of one difficulty."

So he went to Thorley Wold not only to dance, but the day after the ball he took David Westbury over to Wrexford Grange and they went through papers and debts, some to the Jews that had been ruinous and were now pressing.

"You see," the younger man said, "if I stood alone I should let the place go. You must know of chances to make money out there in the new countries. I'd start off to-morrow if I could, and hunt up a gold mine."

"They are not always to be found," smiling with a touch of shrewdness. "And mining isn't just the thing for – "

"A scion of nobility. What did I read the other day? – some lucky fellow unearthed a nugget worth thousands."

"Yes – that does happen," nodding rather incredulously. "Well, if you want me to, I will take these papers to London with me and see what I can do for you. It's a fine old estate."

"And nothing to keep it on. Oh, I shall get out of it fast enough when the poor old Governor is gone. It's a good thing he's past worrying over it, or knowing it, for that matter."

So they returned to Thorley in time for dinner, and in the small dance that evening among the house guests, he took Laverne Westbury out twice, and heard part of her story.

Mrs. Westbury did not think particularly of the matter until Lord Wrexford had been at the house several times and paid her some marked attention, invited her and her daughter to visit Grosvenor Gallery and see an especially handsome portrait, the work of a friend of his who was coming rapidly up to fame.

"The fur on her wrap is so beautifully done that it seems as if you might blow it about with a breath. And she is an extremely handsome woman, was one of the court beauties a few years ago."

Mrs. Westbury was very much pleased with her escort. A title did go some distance in her favor, though she never made any vulgar snatch at it.

"What about that Lord Wrexford?" she asked of her husband one of the evenings they happened to be alone.

He looked up from the stock list he was going over.

"The man or the estate?" with a short, rather brusque laugh.

"Well – both." Her smile might have been that of an arch conspirator. A sudden thought occurred to him. There were many business proffers made to him in these days.

"He's trying to stave off some business until his father has gone. He was willing to cut off the entail, but the question arose as to whether his father was capable, and the lawyers declare he is not. Some parties are to bring suit unless certain claims are met. The indebtedness is enough to swallow up the whole thing. A fine old estate, too."

"It is a pity the title cannot go with it," she remarked longingly, with a meaning look.

"The young man can," and he laughed.

"I wonder some one hasn't – " and she made a suggestive pause.

"He might marry the daughter of a rich tradesman, I suppose. He is really a better class fellow, and would shrink from a lot of vulgar relations. Most of these Commoners have such large families, and the other class seldom have fortunes for their daughters. The Jews will get the estate in the end, I think, and I am really sorry for him."

"And he wants some help from you?"

"To tide over the present, he imagines. But it will be for all time. Now, if you want a handsome estate right in among good old families. You know we heard about it at Thorley. It wouldn't be a bad speculation if one wanted to live there. It's not such a great distance from London."

"If one could buy the title," and she sighed.

He gave a short laugh and then returned to his list.

She leaned back in her luxurious chair and dreamed. They really had something wherewith to purchase the title.

CHAPTER XVIII

TO SEE YOU ONCE AGAIN

Mr. and Mrs. Westbury had gone to Wrexford Grange. Laverne was glad to have a few days to herself. At first she wrote a long homesick letter to Miss Holmes. Already she was tired of her new life. Yet more than a year had passed – three years more and she would be free. But how long it looked!

After Uncle Jason's tender love she was cruelly hurt by her father's indifference. He was deeply immersed in business and proud of his successes. Indeed, why should he not be? He was shrewd enough to take no honor in coming up from the ranks. He preferred to have his patrons think he had always been quite high on the ladder of fortune. Making money was now his chief enjoyment, his one ambition. Laverne was a pretty enough girl, but not the sort that drew men irresistibly to her side. His wife was much more attractive. And then Laverne brought some remembrances that he wished strenuously to forget, that he had once dismissed from his mind. He had made a little romance of it for his wife's ears, and he had a vague fear that Laverne might recall some disagreeable fact that it would not be so easy to disavow. She never had, but he was not sure how much might linger in her memory.

There was always a gulf between the father and the child. He had demanded her mostly to please his wife, the rest to satisfy a little grudge against Jason Chadsey that he had happened to possess himself of the episode not at all to his, Westbury's, credit. From the bottom of his heart he wished Chadsey had come back in time to marry Laverne. It had been a most unfortunate step for him, he reasoned.

Laverne had been in a way fascinated by Mrs. Westbury's protestations of affection. She had appealed to all that was sweetest and finest in the girl's nature, all these years she had been studying men and women on the emotional side, she was not capable of any intellectual analysis. And though she could assume so much, at heart she had very little faith in her fellow beings, as she measured them mostly by herself. An attractive young girl would draw young people, and she sunned herself in the enthusiasms of youth, they were a tonic to her. She did not mean to grow old, but she had a quality rare in the people who cling to youth, she made no silly assumption further than to use all the arts and aids that she persuaded herself were quite as necessary as a good diet to conserve health. She enjoyed her world, her wealth, her little elusive pretexts and inventions, and was amused to see how easily people who pretended to discrimination were ensnared.

At first Laverne had been a new toy, a plaything, a puppet that she could draw in any fashion that she thought best. But presently she was amazed at the child's utter honesty, her shrinking from dissimulation, the surprise at some things she read in the clear eyes. It had been pleasant, but now she was tiring of her toy. Would she be the sort of girl who would draw lovers to her feet and dismiss them with a wave of her fan?

There was marriage, of course. This was really her first season. The daughter of a rich man would not lack offers. She wished she was a little less cold, self-contained, indifferent.

And now a new scheme had presented itself. Why should not Laverne be Lady Wrexford? If her father became the virtual owner of Wrexford Grange, why would it not be a fine dowry? And they could manage that Lord Wrexford should be judicious in expenditures. It might be best that the entail should not be meddled with.

Laverne did enjoy the solitude. She was coming to feel that she was watched continually, criticised gently, of course, but often it hurt. And she had not gone down to the real heart of anything. Was there a heart or was it all surface living?

She went out to take her drive each day with her maid. Several young friends had called.

One afternoon Preston brought up a card. "Mr. Victor Savedra," Laverne read.

"He requested especially to see you," Preston said. "I was not sure – " and she glanced inquiringly. "It is all right, quite right," the girl made answer, but her heart was in her throat, her voice husky. She stood there some seconds, fingering the card. Truth to tell, she felt hurt that Victor had made no effort to see her through all this time, knowing from his own family she was in London. It was hardly her place to appeal to him. Indeed, she had soon learned her old friends were not subjects of pleasure to her new relatives. And now she had quite given up hope with a sad heartache.

Laverne walked slowly down the broad staircase, lingered a moment, while she felt her color coming and going in great bounds. Then there was a step, a figure emerged from the reception room, and caught both hands in his. Neither of them spoke, but simply glanced in each other's eyes. He had changed, matured, and was a really handsome young man in the somewhat brilliant Spanish style. But the soft eyes had not lost their olden tenderness.

"Oh," he began, "I was afraid I should never see you again," and the glance seemed almost to devour her.

"You have been in London all this time." There was the faintest touch of reproach in her tone.

"And you? It seems to me if one can credit society news you have been very gay."

She flushed, and her eyes were downcast, the brown lashes making a shadow on her cheek.

"You must not upbraid me. I made some effort to find you. I was so amazed at the strange turn of affairs. Isola and mother wrote to me and begged me to call on you. At last I did learn where you were and sent you a note, directed to your father's care. It was answered by Mrs. Westbury, who explained that you were not in society, a gentle suggestion that I might have been rather forward, also that you were going to some French watering place, but no hint that I might be welcome on your return," and he half smiled.

"I never saw the note – I never heard. Oh, did you think I could forget an old friend when all things were so strange and I so lonely?"

Now the lashes were gemmed with tears. He longed to kiss them away. An infinite pity stirred his heart.

"Have you been lonely and unhappy? Forgive me, but I thought of you as gay and full of pleasure. I have not been much in ladies' society. I have made some fine friends among men, and it has been study, study, but I have achieved most of my plans and pleased the best of fathers. Last summer with some friends I made a walking tour of Switzerland. This summer I return home. I like America best. And how San Francisco will look after four years' absence! Nothing of the kind could happen in this staid old world. I wonder sometimes if I have not dreamed part of it. And if I have not dreamed about you! Oh, what a brute I am. Come and sit down and let us talk it all over. And your poor uncle – what do you hear from him?"

She wiped the tears from her eyes and in a broken voice said: "Nothing."

"Oh, poor child!" All his heart went out to her. He had thought nothing of love before. He had been but a boy, but he knew he loved her now with a man's love, and with a sudden resolve he determined to take her back with him even if it had to be his wife without his parents' blessing and God speed.

"No one hears, I believe," she replied when she had recovered her voice. "Only – I promised to come back to him when I was twenty-one and free, and he will be waiting for me, I know."

Then this new relationship had not been happy. He had besought Miss Holmes to tell him about it, but she had been very non-committal. He gathered from that she had not been favorably impressed with either Mrs. or Mr. Westbury, although under the circumstances there was nothing else to be done.

When they had recovered self-possession a little they began to talk of the old times, the old days that had been full of delight, it appeared, now touched by the enchanter, memory. The first time they had danced together when she was a little girl, his Saturday at the old house, and the ride they had taken down the coast. Snippy, and the verses they had tried to make for the dead Balder. How he had hated to tell her he was going away for four long years, and how glad he had been to get Isola's extravagant letters, "for you know she simply adored you," he confessed, with a smile.

"It has all changed," she said mournfully, "There will be no more San Francisco. The hill has been lowered so much, and our old house has gone with it. Olive was married in the autumn, you know."

"And Howard is turning into a fine young business fellow, father writes. Uncle Personette may well be proud of his children, who have had the kindest of stepmothers. I always liked Aunt Grace and your Miss Holmes. Mother thinks she couldn't do without her. And it's queer," laughing a little, "she declined a very nice offer of marriage that a friend of father's made her, the captain of a vessel going up and down to the Isthmus. She was very fond of you."

The sweet eyes filled with tears again. Had she left all love behind in the grand city guarded by the Golden Gate?

The room grew dusky. The maid came in to light up, and glanced sharply at them.

"Oh, what an unconscionable visit I have been making," and yet he laughed lightly, not at all troubled by the proprieties that he had really outraged – and he knew better.

How very charming he was, standing up there, just medium height, with one of the figures that is often likened to Mercury or Ganymede. The rich tinted Spanish complexion, the dark melting eyes, when he smiled – could they ever look fierce? the narrow mustache, leaving the red line on the short upper lip, the chin rounded out with youth and health, the hands dainty enough for a lady. They reached over and held hers, the eyes smiled into hers, but all the same there came a sharp pang at his going.

"For the next two weeks I shall be awfully busy," he explained. "Then come the Christmas holidays. I didn't have any last year. I just stayed and ground in the mill. I was bound to reach a certain point. But now I shall spend a week in London. I think I can persuade Mrs. Westbury to admit me."

Why should she not? Laverne thought.

A happy girl sat down to her solitary meal. She was no longer lonely. Christmas was near. Of next summer she would not think.

A letter came from Mrs. Westbury with news that scarcely touched Laverne, and perhaps after all had not much of real sadness in it. They had gone to Wrexford Grange to settle some important business, and before it was finished the poor old paralytic, who for the last year had been scarcely conscious of anything but breathing, had passed out of life. Lord Wrexford had insisted upon their staying until after the funeral. Would she mind if she gave up the Liscombes' dance? Mrs. Leigh would be pleased to chaperon her, but it would be in better taste to remain at home.

Laverne did this cheerfully. To be sure, the days were rather lonely, but the driving and a little shopping and going to some picture exhibitions with Mrs. Leigh filled them up.

There was a pile of notes and invitations on Mrs. Westbury's desk when she returned. Laverne often answered the least important. Between them she sandwiched Wrexford Grange. It was an old, old estate, the title dating back for more than three hundred years, and though it had been neglected of late could be put in excellent order again. Such grand rooms, such a splendid hall, such a great stone stairway with oaken railing. Family portraits and a copy of the First Charles, – the Wrexfords had been royalists, – but all these things had been hidden away until the accession of the son, with the old family silver, rather clumsy, she thought, but she was wise enough to know that age redeemed it.

"Oh," she began suddenly, "the Doncasters want you for their Christmas Bazaar. The Thorleys are coming up – yes, I think you must go. It is for the doctor's pet charity, those crippled babies. I think it would be a mercy if the Lord took some of the poor things out of the world, but while they are here they must be taken care of. It is only one day and evening. We must give a luncheon to Florence and Claire Thorley. I'm sorry Lord Wrexford must be counted out of the Christmas gayeties. Yes, write an acceptance."

When she came down to the bottom she glanced over the cards, smiling, then frowning, not sorry to have missed some of the calls.

"Victor Savedra," she exclaimed, "why – "

"It is those Spanish people at home, at least, the son is here at Oxford, and he called."

She confessed it very quietly, without a change of color or embarrassment.

"Oh, yes – let me see – he asked permission to call – I think I told you – sometime in the early summer – we were going away."

These little half truths annoyed Laverne, but she made no comment.

Mrs. Westbury had accomplished one step toward what she thought would be the crowning point of her life, and she was amazed that it had been done so easily. As Laverne was an important factor in it she was prepared to be very sweet.

"He is still at Oxford?"

"Yes, he will be through in June, and then he will return to America."

She was not even troubled when Preston told her the young man had stayed two good hours. In fact, Laverne was rather surprised at her amiability and indulgence. She saw very little of her father, but he, too, seemed awakening to a new interest in her. There were business and board meetings and dinners of directors, but he was always in excellent spirits. He sometimes wondered himself how it was that fate seemed to send everything his way. He was very lavish with Christmas money to his wife and daughter.

So she went to the Bazaar in the best of spirits. She really liked Amy Doncaster, though she was finding that the type of Olive Personette was by no means an uncommon one. Amy was deeply interested in her brother's hospital, and often visited it and made garments for the poorer patients.

It was quite a pet charity in one circle. There were hundreds of other things in the great city, but they had their share of patronage. The hall was dressed with evergreens, and though some of the half-hidden flowers were paper they looked quite as pretty and did not wither in the heat and light. Tastefully arranged tables, with handiwork both useful and ornamental, attractive for Christmas gifts; young girls in simple white attire, the fashion of those days, older ones with more elegance keeping supervision and adding dignity. Carriages came and went before the broad doorway, and visitors seemed generously inclined.

She was very happy, this charming American girl. At the middle of the century there were not so many of them to share and often fight for triumphs. Then, Mr. Westbury had won a standing of his own and was paving a golden path. It was not trade, something that was held in higher esteem. Miss Westbury might be quite an heiress. There was no older brother to demand a share. For we had not outgrown the idea that the brothers must be provided for first of all.

When the hall was lighted up and the young men began to throng in, the scene was brilliant and the moneychangers brought out their best charms and sweetest smiles. Mrs. Westbury had been in during the afternoon and had gone to a "high tea" at old Lady Carcroft's. So in the early evening she came again.

Fred Doncaster, who had elected the Church for a profession, since there was a very excellent living in the other branch of the family, and he being a second son, brought in his friend Victor Savedra.

"He is a Spaniard," explained Amy Doncaster to a group of girls. "And isn't he handsome! Fred brought him over once, they are great chums, and he has the most charming manners. Oh, Miss Westbury, he lives – well – it isn't far from that wonderful San Francisco where you came from, and they must be very rich, Fred thinks, though he never boasts of it, but it must be something like a big English estate. Oh, they are coming over here."

They made their way through, and Victor's face lighted with intense satisfaction. Laverne flushed "celestial rosy red." He reached over and took her hand, exclaiming, "What a pleasure! I am so glad to see you here."

"Hillo!" and Fred gazed from one to the other.

"We have been friends from childhood – isn't it?" smiling out of his delight. "And Miss Doncaster – I came almost purposely to buy some of your wares," glancing at that lady.

"Oh, thank you," she returned gayly.

The rest of the introductions were given and the party fell into a social chat. Mrs. Westbury entered the hall at that juncture with Mrs. Doncaster. A spasm of something like anger shot over her. Yes, she was quite sure that must be Victor Savedra. Was Laverne making secret engagements with him?

"Oh," Mrs. Doncaster began, "there is Fred's friend, a young Spaniard, who has been over here for his education. We were all charmed with him when Fred brought him to dinner one night, and wished we had made his acquaintance earlier, since he leaves us in the summer. The Spaniards, I believe, were some of the old settlers on the western coast. I don't quite understand all the distinctions of American people."

Mrs. Westbury recalled the fact that she had met the elder Mr. Savedra, who had come to say farewell to Laverne and to assure her that they would do their best to make Miss Holmes happy. Then she was formally introduced to the young man, who had a notably distinctive charm, partly due no doubt to his foreign air.

Fred certainly was in high spirits, and helped the girls in their sales, even if he did call them shopkeepers. Then he insisted that Miss Westbury should accompany him around to "spy out the nakedness of the land," he said, which in this case meant an accession of funds for the Hospital. "My brother would study surgery," he said, with a half protest. "Minturn is a born philanthropist, so between us both we shall care for bodies and souls. I'd worlds rather have my profession."

Amy and Savedra were talking just in front of them, now and then pausing at a booth, where the girl proudly introduced her companion. Some stalls were already sold out; indeed, every one seemed jubilant over the success. In a little rather private corner groups were having some refreshments, and at one they found Miss Doncaster and an admirer, who made room for them, and they had a merry time. Victor sat on one side of Laverne, and they exchanged bits of talk mostly satisfactory to each.

Savedra had accepted an invitation from the Doncasters. It was true Londoners were rushing out to country homes, or to holiday house parties, but there were hosts of them left.

"I had no idea the Doncasters knew you," Victor said. "I am glad we have a mutual friend. I shall spend all the holidays in town, and we must see a good deal of each other to make up for the lost time."

Her eyes drooped and a delicious flush overspread her face. How shy and sweet she was! He would not think of the time when he must go away and leave her behind.

Mrs. Doncaster accepted a seat in Mrs. Westbury's brougham. The young people would walk home, as the doctor headed the party. The girls had planned to have a little dance the night after Christmas, just an informal, suddenly arranged matter, and Laverne must be sure to come. They were to go to a Christmas dinner, but there was no engagement for Friday evening.

After they had set their companion down at her own door, Mrs. Westbury still commented on the success of the Bazaar and the prettiness of the girls.

"And I thought that young Savedra quite épris with Miss Amy, didn't you? He was devoted to her."

"They all like him very much." She was so happy there was no room in her heart for jealousy. Indeed, gladness forbade the thought of possessorship.

"And English girls don't mind marrying and going to the ends of the earth. That Miss Morven went to Canada to marry her betrothed, who was in some government position, and couldn't leave. And Lady Estee's daughter went out to India. Of course, Laverne, you will not give a second thought to Fred Doncaster. It will be two years before he can be ordained. And there's such a family, six children!"

"Oh, no," returned Laverne cheerfully.

She had it in her mind to say: "Your father has other views for you," but caution intervened. Still, when she glanced her over in the light of her room as she was saying good-night, she thought how really pretty the girl looked to-night, her soft eyes shining, her mouth settled in the curves of a half smile that would tempt any lover to kiss, the clear, beautiful complexion, the long bronze lashes that seemed to play with the dainty color on her cheek, as the sun over dimpling waters. Yes, she wanted the excitement of pleasure.