This time Clarence drove slowly down the hill, looking at both sides of the road, peering under the trees and bushes, still impressed with the idea that he might see her form or hear her voice. The moon was just rising, casting long shadows as it arose, but the shadow of that beloved, graceful form was nowhere to be seen. This added disappointment was added bitterness to his cup of misery, and he began to feel sick in body and mind, and he saw in himself a most wretched outcast.

Tano and Dona Josefa now came and saw the phaeton ascending the hill on the other side of the brook.

CHAPTER XXIX.-_Hasty Decisions Repented Leisurely._

When Victoriano had left Everett at his front door, exacting the promise that he would come to breakfast with Clarence next morning, he merely delayed long enough to learn that Alice was quiet, and Mrs. Darrell thought that with a night's rest she would be well next day. He then drove back home, and thinking that Clarence was going to stay, left the phaeton at the front gate to run down through the side gate to Mrs.

Mechlin's, to call his mother and say to her that Clarence had been sent off by his father, and had come to their house to pass the night. But as he hurried through the front garden, Victoriano remembered that the horses had to be put in the stable and taken care of, so he went in the kitchen to tell a servant he must attend to the horses immediately.

"Yes, _patroncito_, I'll do it right away," said the lazy Indian, who first had to stretch himself and yawn several times, then hunt up tobacco and cigarette paper, and smoke his cigarette. This done, he, having had a heavy supper, shuffled lazily to the front of the house, as Clarence was driving down the hill for the second time, and Dona Josefa and Victoriano returning from Mrs. Mechlin, came in through the garden side gate.

"Who is going in that carriage?" was the first question put by Victoriano to Madame Halier.

"It is Monsieur Clarence."

"And where is Mercedes?"

"She called you to go to Madame Mechlin's."

"No such thing," said Victoriano, going to look in the parlor; returning immediately to renew his questions.

But the madame could do no more than repeat all she knew, which was little enough, and that little thoroughly mixed in her mind.

All that Victoriano and Dona Josefa could ascertain, with some clearness, was that Clarence was going, and had come back, thinking that Mercedes had called him, but that on being told that Mercedes had called Tano to accompany her to Mrs. Mechlin's, he had gone away.

"I must overtake Clarence. There is some misunderstanding here, that is plain," said Victoriano, going to the back piazza to call a servant.

This time Chapo came a little quicker, not knowing whether he would be to blame, because the _Americano_ went off with his horses before he had time to put them in the stable.

"Bring me my bay horse, saddled, in two minutes, do you hear? Two minutes-not two hours-go quick."

"We cannot find Mercita. She is not in the house," said Dona Josefa to her son, much alarmed.

"She must be, mother. Call the other girls. Look again for her. I must run after Clarence, and learn why he is going, instead of passing the night here."

Fifteen minutes after Clarence had left, Victoriano was galloping behind him, wondering why he could not see him anywhere on the road.

Madame Halier and Dona Josefa continued looking for Mercedes most anxiously, but in vain. George now came up, and joined in the search for the missing girl.

As Victoriano crossed the brook and ascended the hill beyond it, Don Mariano and Gabriel came up into the court-yard. They immediately hurried into the house, Don Mariano knowing that Mercedes would be anxious for him to talk with Clarence.

Dona Josefa and the madame met them at the door, and related as well as they knew all that had occurred. They all agreed that the matter had better be kept from the servants, if possible, and they all went out by the front gate again, since it was useless to search in the direction of Mrs. Mechlin's house. Don Mariano and Gabriel saw George follow the path to the right and disappear. They followed him. George had heard the barking of a dog in the distance, and at first paid no attention to it, but when the barking would be followed by most piteous howls, he listened, and thought he recognized the plaintive whining of Milord. He followed the path, and as he did so, came nearer to the barking, and soon after Milord himself met him, with demonstrations of great satisfaction.

George had no doubt now of finding Mercedes. He let Milord be the guide, and run ahead, he following. In a few minutes he saw something white on the ground, and immediately after recognized Mercedes' form lying motionless across the path, as she had fallen. In a moment George had lifted her insensible form in his arms, calling out he had found her.

Don Mariano ran to him, but Gabriel, being more active, passed him, and was quickly at George's side, gazing anxiously at his sister's face.

"Give her to me, George," said Don Mariano, in a hoarse whisper, for he was so agitated he could scarcely speak. "Give my baby to me."

"Wait a little while. I'll carry her a little longer," said George, holding the unconscious girl.

"Father is too agitated to be steady enough just now," said Gabriel.

"I'll carry her."

"Let me see her face, for God's sake! Has she no life?" Don Mariano exclaimed.

"Oh, yes. She has fainted only. We will soon restore her to consciousness. Don't be alarmed. I think the parting with Clarence has nearly killed her-but she is alive," George said.

"But why did they part? Why did he go?" Don Mariano asked.

"That is as much a mystery to me as to you," George replied.

The fainting girl was tenderly placed in her bed, and all the care that loving hearts could bestow was lavished on her. But nearly two hours elapsed before she returned to consciousness. Then, after looking vaguely about the room for some minutes, an expression of pain came over her face, and looking at her father, she asked for Clarence.

"Victoriano has gone to call him," Don Mariano replied, hoping that this little fiction would come true, and believing it would if Victoriano could overtake the fugitive.

"I am so glad," she said, and with a sigh closed her eyes, lying so calmly that it was difficult to see whether she had relapsed into a swoon, or lay so quiet from sheer exhaustion.

In the meantime, he for whose love all this misery was suffered-and who shared it fully-was flying onward as rapidly as a couple of fast thoroughbreds could take him. Victoriano followed at full gallop, confident of overtaking him, or if not, of being in town before the steamer left. But the fates decided it should not be as the heart of the anxious rider wished, and when he rode up to the wharf the steamer was leaving it. He could see its lights moving swiftly away, and hear the shaking and revolving of the wheels on the smooth bay, as the black, floating mass glided off, like a cruel monster swimming away with the happiness of so many loving hearts.

Victoriano stood looking at the steamer with a disappointment so keen that it seemed unbearable. He could have rebelled against any power.

Then a sense of realization of the inevitable came like a revelation to him, and he felt overpowered, surrounded by dangers that he might not avoid, because they would come upon him unawares.

In this perturbed state of mind he was still looking at the steamer passing over the moonlit bay, when the freight agent for the steamer came to say that Mr. Darrell had left a note for him, and he would bring it if he waited. Victoriano not only would wait, but followed to the door of the freight office.

The agent said, as he handed the note, that Mr. Darrell had left orders at the stable to keep the two horses and phaeton until Don Victoriano sent for them. Eagerly Victoriano read the note. It ran thus:

_Dear Tano_:

Forgive me for not waiting to bid you good-by. I feared to miss the boat; and since Dona Josefa desired to postpone the wedding, I thought it was best for me to be away, under present circumstances. It would be too unendurable in my painful humiliation to be constantly dreading some other unexpected outbreak from my father. My presence would be a source of irritation to him, which might lead to worse results.

Say to Don Mariano and Don Gabriel I will write to them as soon as I reach San Francisco, perhaps before. My love to all of you, my good and beloved friends. Heaven bless you all.

I don't ask you to think kindly of me, for I know you will. I feel sick in mind and body; and how I wish I could have slept under your hospitable roof.

Tell Retty to write or telegraph how Alice is. I was so disappointed not to find Miss Mercedes when I drove back. I had felt so sure I heard her voice calling me, that I was faint with disappointment and thoroughly heartsick.

Good-by, dear Tano, again. God bless you all.

Ever your true friend, Clarence.

P. S.-I leave you my horses and phaeton

There was nothing for Victoriano to do now but return home. He went to the stable, ordered fresh horses put to the phaeton, and leaving his own horse with the other two, said he would send for them when they were thoroughly rested. He went to see Clarence's horses himself to be sure that they were well groomed. Two men were rubbing them down, and he saw that neither of the two fine animals had been hurt by their furious drive. He patted them, and they turned their pretty heads and intelligent eyes, expanding their nostrils as they recognized him.