Mrs. Darrell had heretofore been the only will that had dared stand before it, but Mrs. Darrell, being a wise little woman, not always made direct assaults upon the strong citadel-oftener she made flank movements and laid sieges. This time, however, all tactics had thus far failed, and Mrs. Darrell withdrew all her forces, and waited, in "masterly inactivity," reinforcements when Clarence returned.

What exasperated Darrell the most, and had ended by putting him in a bad humor, was a lurking self-reproach he could not silence, a consciousness that having promised Don Mariano to pay for his land whenever the title was considered settled, that it was fair to suppose he ought to pay now.

But on the other hand, he had also promised the settlers to stand by them, and was determined to do so. Thus he stood in his own mind self-accused, unhappy and unrepentant, but resolutely upholding a lost cause. He avoided the society of his family with absurd persistency.

After meals he would fill his pipe, and march himself off to the farther end of his grain fields; resting his elbows on the fence boards, and turning his back upon the house which contained his dissenting family, would puff his smoke in high dudgeon, like an overturned locomotive which had run off its track, and became hopelessly ditched. In that frame of mind, he thought himself ready to do battle against all his family, but he knew he dreaded Clarence's return.

However, that event had at last arrived, and there was Clarence now on the porch-just come from Arizona-kissing all the ladies of the family and hugging all the males, not omitting the old man, who was literally as well as figuratively taken off his feet by the strong arms of the dreaded Clarence.

"Clary is so much in love, father, that he comes courting you, too,"

Everett said, laughing, as they all went into the parlor.

"I suppose so," Darrell answered, not looking at any one's face, excepting that of the clock on the chimney mantel.

Mrs. Darrel's eyes, however, were not in the least evasive-they met those of Clarence, and he read in them a volume of what was troubling his father's mind. He longed to have a talk with that true-hearted and clear-headed, well-beloved mother, but he must wait-for now came Tisha to announce that luncheon was on the table. She was grinning with delight to see her favorite Massa Clary again, and Clarence jumped up and ran to throw his arms around her, making that faithful heart throb with unalloyed happiness, for she loved him from his babyhood, just if he had been her own child.

"I love them all, missis-all your dear children," she would say to Mrs.

Darrell; "and they are all good children; but Massa Clary I love the best of all. Next comes Miss Alice. But Massa Clary took my heart when he was six months old, and had the measles. He was the best, sweetest baby I ever saw, and so beautiful." Thus Tisha would run on, if you let her follow the bent of her inclination, for Clarence was a theme she never tired of.

All sorts of questions now showered upon Clarence about New York, about Washington, about San Francisco, and about Arizona-all of which he answered most amiably.

"And are the Mechlins very grand? As rich as one might suppose? hearing the Holman and Alamar girls talk of the parties and excursions that Mr.

Lawrence Mechlin gave in honor of Elvira?" Jane asked.

"The excursion to West Point was to celebrate Mercedes' birthday," Alice observed.

"Yes, the Mechlins must be rich, to judge by their style of living.

Their social position is certainly very high," Clarence replied.

"You had a delightful time, Clary?" Everett said.

"Yes, indeed; most delightful," was the answer.

"We, too, have had lots of fun, with old Mathews on the rampage, like an old hen who got wet and lost her only chicken," said Willie, at the top of his voice.

"Willie!" Mrs. Darrell said, to impose silence, but as Clarence and Everett laughed, and his father did not seem particularly displeased, Willie added:

"And the old man gets so mad, that he perspires, and smoke comes out of his back, as if his clothes were on fire."

"Oh, Willie! how you exaggerate," Lucy exclaimed.

"I don't. He snorts and clucks and growls and snarls. Romeo says he miauls like a disappointed hyena."

"That will do. You must not repeat such unkind criticisms. Romeo is always ridiculing Mr. Mathews," Mrs. Darrell said.

"Old Mathews is in worse humor since the Don began to send his cattle away," Webster said.

"Why so?" Clarence asked.

"Because they made nice targets for his rifle," Everett replied.

"Scandalous!" Clarence exclaimed.

"He threatens to shoot George Mechlin, Tom Hughes says," Webster added.

"Why?" Clarence asked.

"Because he got the appeal dismissed," answered Webster.

"He is foolish to suppose that if George hadn't had it dismissed that no one else would," Clarence said.

"I met the old man this morning. He stopped his wagon to ask me if father knew that Congress had passed the appropriation for money to survey lands in California. I told him I hadn't heard, and he went off whipping his horses, and swearing at Don Mariano and George Mechlin,"

Everett said.

"I thought there would be a better feeling when the Don's cattle should be sent off, as they were the principal cause of irritation," Clarence observed.

"And it is so. Only those boys-Romeo, Tom and Jack Miller-are always ridiculing or teasing Mathews," Darrell said.

"Why, father!" Everett exclaimed; "the fathers of those boys are as bad as Mathews, and old Gasbang is worse yet!"

"Gasbang was always dishonest, but he is worse now, at Peter Roper's instigation," Darrell said.

"Gasbang says that he and Roper will send the Don to the poor-house,"

Everett said.

"Not while I live," Clarence replied; adding, "and how is everybody at the Alamar house-all well?"

Up started Willie and Clementine, eager to be the first to tell Clarence the great news.

"They had two arrivals," Mrs. Darrell said.

"Oh, Clary! you never saw prettier babies in all your life! Both have the loveliest blue eyes," Clementine exclaimed, joining her hands, as if in prayer, as Tisha always did when speaking of Clarence's babyhood.

"The boy has gray eyes," Willie interposed, with authority not to be controverted. "He hasn't no blue eyes."

"How do you know? You haven't seen them, but _I_ have," Clementine asserted; "and the little girl is exactly the image of Miss Mercedes.

She has Miss Mercedes' blue eyes, exactly, with long, curling lashes, the little thing."

"The girl looks like Don Gabriel, as she ought to," Willie stated in a peremptory manner, not to be contradicted, and whilst he discussed with Clementine the looks of the babies, Clarence was informed by his mother and sisters that Elvira was the happy mother of a big, handsome boy, and Lizzie rejoiced in the possession of a beautiful little girl, which weighed nearly as much as her boy cousin. That Dona Josefa and Mrs.

Beatrice Mechlin were nearly crazy with happiness, but that the craziest of all was Mr. James Mechlin, who made more "_fuss_" over those two babies than either Gabriel or George, and went from one house to the other all day long, watching each baby, and talking about them by the hour.

CHAPTER XXIV.-_The Brewers of Mischief._

Eight delicious weeks passed-the most delightful that Clarence and Mercedes had ever lived. The first of September had dawned, and on the 16th they would be married. With the first rays of the coming morn, Clarence arose and went to the west window of his chamber, which looked towards the Alamar House. As he peeped through the closed shutters, thinking it would seem foolish to open them so early, he saw the shutters of one window-in that well known row where Mercedes' room was located, and which looked to the east-pushed open, and a white hand and part of a white arm came out and fastened it back. His heart told him whose white arm that was, and of course he could not think of going back to bed. He began to dress himself, deliberating whether he should or not go to town that day and telegraph to Hubert to do as he thought best about selling another cargo of ores, or say to wait for him, that he would be at San Francisco on the 20th. When he was dressed, he sat by the west window and tried to read, but that white arm would come across the page and that white hand would cover the letters, so that he threw the book down and began to walk, trying to think about that business of selling the ore to the Austrian house, of which Hubert had been writing to him. Yes, he thought, the best thing would be to go to town that same day and ask Hubert couldn't the matter wait until the 20th. But should Hubert be coming, or should it be necessary to wait for telegrams, he might not be back until the following day in the evening. He would go immediately after breakfast to tell Mercedes that he could not see her that evening.

Mercedes and Dona Josefa were on the front piazza when he arrived, and Gabriel was talking to George in quite an excited manner, for him, as he was always so calm and self-contained. As soon as Clarence came up the piazza steps, George began to tell him that some of the last lot of cattle which had been sent off to the mountains, had got away from the herders and returned to the rancho on the previous day, and that morning a couple of cows of a very choice breed were found shot through the body, in a dying condition. The poor brutes had to be shot dead by Gabriel himself, to save them from further suffering. No one knew who had fired on the poor dumb animals, but circumstantial evidence clearly pointed to Old Mathews.